In many ways all this fuss over a ten minute nude scene is a shame, and I only hope that the hype (admittedly encouraged by the producers, with all those bare-chested press shots of Radcliffe) eventually dies down, as this revival of Peter Shaffer’s Equus is a powerful and engaging piece of theatre in its own right.

Originally staged in 1973, Equus hasn't dated half as badly as Shaffer’s The Royal Hunt Of The Sun, given a ropey revival at the National last year. The play tells the story of psychiatrist Martin Dysart who agrees to handle the case of a boy who has committed a monstrous crime against six horses.

This boy, Alan Strang, played by Radcliffe, comes to Dysart as an angry, frightened and deeply confused young man who, under the twin influences of his very religious mother and his atheist, socialist father, has allowed his obsessive love of horses to grow into a form of worship. As Dysart begins to pick apart Alan's fervent and complex inner life he becomes aware of his own staid, passion free existance and begins to wonder that, if he cures Alan, he may be dooming him to the same.

For all the fuss about Radcliffe, the real star of the show is Richard Griffiths, who makes Dysart both Alan’s saviour and, at the same time, a deeply unhappy and unfulfilled man. He begins with a masterful soliloquy which intrigues and engages the audience in, gaining their trust. Griffiths is completely assured and his performance is even better than his recent triumphant turn in The History Boys.

And, yes, in answer to the question that everyone will be asking, Radcliffe also acquits himself well, leaving Harry Potter far behind and suggesting he has a promising acting career ahead of him. He succeeds in making Alan seem both menacing and vulnerable. There is a fair amount of nudity, but it is never gratuitous; both Radcliffe and co-star Joanna Christie take off their clothes for one scene which is handled subtly and successfully. His voice is perhaps a little too quiet on occasion but his performance, while initially hesitant, picks up pace as the evening wears on.

Perhaps more importantly, there is a strong sense of chemistry and trust between Griffiths and Radcliffe. Through working on the Harry Potter films together, they have obviously developed a deep bond which translates well on stage, allowing both actors to give strong and startling performances in their scenes together.

Designer John Napier has created a simple yet deeply moody set, introducing onstage seating to give the production an in-the-round feel and create a real atmosphere of intimacy. The set is kept simple, with just a raised platform and a series of boxes, plus a series of six entrances on to the stage, like horses’ stalls.

The ‘horses’ add to the sense of menace in Thea Sharrock’s claustrophobic production. Large metal cage masks have been placed on the actors’ heads, and this along with their long athletic bodies and the metal shoes they wear give, brings a convincing equine quality to their performances. They toss their heads and their movements are skittish, as they stamp their metal feet on the floor, adding to the effect. There is a beauty to the way they look, a lithe and other-worldly air.

This is a powerful piece of theatre, unsettling and intriguing, and hopefully these qualities will transcend the superficial buzz around Radcliffe’s nudity. In many ways, it’s critic proof – a certain section of his fan-base will book tickets regardless – but those not in that camp, and I was one of them, should not simply dismiss this as a bit of silly stunt casting, this is a gripping revival and well worth seeing.

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