Back in 2004, Complicite and the National Theatre presented an eye-catching production of Shakespeare’s drama of desire, duty and justice that highlighted themes of voyeurism and surveillance in a sexualised and politically volatile society. This staging by Charlotte Conquest for the Creation Theatre Company in Oxford displays similar motifs: here, once again, are ever-watchful CCTV cameras; here are the prisoners in Guantanamo Bay-style orange jumpsuits. While competent, though, her direction is undistinguished.

Lucy Wilkinson’s design makes the North Wall’s handsome brick-and-timber auditorium – a converted school swimming pool – into a split-level, graffiti-spattered setting. Here squaddies pay prostitutes clad in lurid Lycra and faux fur for oral sex. Young men and women writhe, bump and grind to electronic music. But if Conquest has a point to make about modern morality, she’s not stating it clearly enough.

Isabella’s assertion “More than our brother is our chastity”, when faced with the option of sacrificing her virginity for Claudio’s life, ought to sound startling; here, delivered by Amy Stacy’s rather prim and pallid Isabella, it feels almost inconsequential. The dichotomy of the character’s fervent religiosity and sensual language – and the irresistible attraction she holds for the ascetic Angelo - offer a rich variety of interpretations in a contemporary setting, where fundamentalism and sexuality might have made dramatically potent bedfellows. Sadly, the production never dares so far.

Instead, Conquest suggests that lust is, in this case, entirely in the eye of the beholder. Adam Newsome’s Angelo fantasises feverishly about a scantily clad Isabella at her toilette; and Noel White’s witty Duke regards her longingly from beneath the disguise of his friar’s cowl. Meanwhile, a giggly Juliet coos with delight as the baby she is bearing out of wedlock kicks, a mincingly camp officer Elbow gets covert S&M thrills from menacing a pimp, and the relationship between Richard Neale’s Claudio and Alexander Caine’s louche, melancholic Lucio seems to be rather more than friendly. The germs of a few intriguing ideas are here, but they lack focus and conviction. Some doubling-up of roles among the cast adds some interesting texture. Caroline Devlin transforms herself from Mistress Overdone – whom the actress endows with an interesting world-weariness – to the wronged Mariana, Angelo’s abandoned lover, making a connection between two sexually experienced women divided by economic and social circumstance. And Lucy-Anne Holmes is both an air-headed Juliet and a serious-minded, responsible Provost, implying that the play’s moral muddle is not presided over, or untangled, solely by men. This rather bland production could do with a good many more pinches of such spice.

Box office: 01865 766 266, to April 12

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