Chariots of Fire, at Hampstead Theatre, Seven magazine review Theatreland has its political convictions and seldom, if ever, tolerates dissent. It makes it a pleasure, therefore, to review Posh - a piece of Left-wing agitprop that emphasises the worst aspects of Britishness and the Oxbridge ethos - in the same week as Chariots of Fire, which celebrates their very best. The latter has broken starter's orders, organising a West End transfer for itself before a single critic had pronounced judgment upon its opening at the Hampstead Theatre. It's a bold move. This production has ambitions to pick up the Olympic torch and run with it, but there is trepidation in some quarters about whether the Games will not take a heavy toll on overall box office takings. As the only critic to warn that The King's Speech seemed unlikely to find many followers as a play after the film had already told the story so well, I wonder if the punters aren't beginning to tire of the whole concept of familiar lengths of celluloid being regurgitated by stage directors. Hugh Hudson's classic about the experiences of Eric Liddell, Harold Abrahams and Lord Lindsey at the 1924 Olympics seems, too, to cry out for a vast cinematic canvas. Still, the cast and the crew involved in Edward Hall's stage production must be praised for, if not exactly taking gold, then at least taking part. The director has plumped for a theatre-in-the-round configuration: the audience surround a revolving circular stage with the track extending out into the stalls. When the great races that made the names of its three protagonists are re-created, it all feels a bit like school gym practice. Leave your glass of wine on the floor and it will assuredly go flying. What is novel about Mike Bartlett's adaptation is that it allows the most blue-blooded character in the piece to shine the most. Tam Williams as Lord Lindsey - who nobly pulls out of a vital weekday race so that the devout Liddell doesn't have to run on the Sabbath - proves himself to be both an actor and an athlete of distinction. The show's most striking scene is when he has - three times - to clear a high-jump with glasses of fizz perched precariously on each end of the pole. James McCardle as Abrahams and Jack Lowden as Liddell keep pace, and Simon Williams and Nickolas Grace as, respectively, the Masters of Caius and Trinity, prove an amusing pair of stragglers. Technically accomplished, adroitly choreographed and with a pleasing jauntiness about it - as well as the great joy of Vangelis's score - it serves as a timely paean of praise to our country and the Olympic ideal. To Jun 16; www.hampsteadtheatre.com This review also appeared in SEVEN, free with the Sunday Telegraph