Johan Zoffany, Royal Academy, review If you wish to understand why the German-born 18th-century painter Johan Zoffany is considered a good artist, then head straight for the sixth section of a new show at the Royal Academy, the first substantial exhibition of his work in Britain since 1977. There, visitors can pore over a staggering picture called The Tribuna of the Uffizi, which is often described as the best painting he ever made. Commissioned by Queen Charlotte, consort of George III, it took Zoffany the best part of the 1770s to complete. Amid a tumult of famous works inside the "Tribuna" room of the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Grand Tourists can be seen chin-wagging. Zoffany includes more than 20 portraits of miscellaneous toffs surrounded by replicas of masterpieces by Holbein, Rubens, Raphael and others. An emblem of the curious, acquisitive spirit of the 18th century, it is spectacularly detailed. As its rhythms ripple across the retina, the eye's muscles have to work overtime to keep up with the profusion of the artist's vision. The unifying bright red of the background, though, deftly prevents the composition from swirling into chaos. Part of the fun comes from spotting works of art (a Raphael Madonna here, a nude by Titian there), almost in the manner of the Where's Wally? children's books. But as well as being learned, the painting is full of hearty innuendo, as Zoffany satirises the less-than-lofty aspirations of the English "milordi" who set off on the Grand Tour in search of amatory, not artistic, conquests. A group of five men gaze adoringly at the sculpted bottom of the Medici Venus (one uses an eyeglass to get a really good look). Elsewhere, there are visual gags about buggery. The work is a wonderful reminder that the 18th century was as rowdy as it was refined. Perhaps this explains why Zoffany's royal patron wasn't enamoured with the finished piece, which was relegated to Kew Palace. Zoffany is at his best when piling up people, animals and things, almost to the point of overloading his paintings: The Sharp Family (1779-81) or Colonel Mordaunt's Cock Match are both cases in point. By all accounts Zoffany, who arrived in England in 1760 following a period in Rome, was an urbane chap with an eye for the ladies and an appetite for the finer things in life. His straightforward portraits are less satisfying. Likewise his paintings of scenes from the 18th-century stage, many of which were commissioned by the actor David Garrick. To modern eyes, these look wooden. Partly this is an issue of technique: Zoffany's meticulous application of paint lacks the flair and fluidity of, say, Gainsborough's brushwork. As a result, he is often overlooked. But the RA's exhibition, with more than 60 of his paintings, suggests that this is unfair. When he played to his strengths, producing rumbustious canvases bustling with energy and life, he was second to none. Until June 10.