Moreover, a production has to be exceptionally good to justify a £40 price tag in the cramped auditorium of the Trafalgar Studio 1. And a piece which may well, as they say, "play well in the provinces" will not necessarily hold the same stock with a metropolitan audience. Unfortunately, Visiting Mr Green is one of those shows.

The story starts and ends in the Upper West Side Manhattan apartment of the 86-year old Mr. Green, a Jewish refugee from the pogroms of Russia, for whom the recent death of his wife of 59 years has turned him into a reclusive, quietly suicidal and cranky old codger. Into his life comes, literally by accident, eternal bachelor Ross Gardiner who has been ordered by a judge to spend one evening a week doing chores for Mr. Green after nearly mowing him down in traffic. Revelations about their lives - which would amount to spoilers if detailed here - roll along, turning their initially frosty relationship into one where two lonely people are able to find some succour in one another's company.

It is not surprising to hear that this production has been successfully cloned around the world and had a well-received tour of the UK provinces. This is because, despite the modern setting in one of the world's most urbane cities, it is peculiarly provincial. Written a mere twelve years ago, it may have been on the cusp of being outmoded then but, in broadly tolerant, inclusive London in 2008, it really feels ancient.

In some ways this is testimony to how far things have progressed socially in our fair city. As someone who grew up in, and occasionally visits, the provinces, where various prejudices still have their sharp edges, I can imagine a play like this still causing a real stir among less cosmopolitan theatregoers. Similarly in countries such as Israel or Croatia where violent bigotry is still part of the social and political fabric, the themes of this work must still have the power to stir liberal consciences and upset conservative ones. But not in London.

Warren Mitchell, who lived at the centre of a maelstrom around his portrayal of racist Alf Garnett in TV's Till Death Do Us Part, is, in many ways, the best person for this particular job. He looked like he was having a couple of "senior moments", stumbling over some lines and apparently being thrown by a particularly theatrical bit of coughing from an audience member. However, his stillness shows he is a master of his craft and – while it is easier for a senior citizen to play a senior citizen – it is his own frailty that occasionally turns the frailty of Mr. Green into lumps in our throats.

On the other hand, Gideon Turner's mannered performance as Ross makes him less convincing as Green's foil. Spending too much time being angry when he probably shouldn't be and not raising the pitch high enough when he should be, he fails to shine in this role. The naturalistic dialogue does not trip off his tongue as well as it might, which is a shame.

There is much that is witty and engaging about this piece which is worth cherishing. But is has the aroma of a playwright yet to find his feet and railing against iniquities in an relatively unsophisticated manner. The play's didacticism is a little too overbearing and past its sell-by date to resonate with an audience that learnt its lessons some time ago already.

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