The posters warn about scenes of nudity which are hardly surprising where the story of Adam and Eve is concerned. Even so, the in-yer-face nature of the naturism comes as a surprise. One's usual reaction to a naked couple on a beach, say is tactfully to avert one's gaze. This is difficult here, since they are addressing us most of the time in passionate poetry by John Milton that can hardly be ignored.

But well done to director Rupert Goold for facing the matter head-on, and not copping out by having the performers (Christian Bradley and Vinette Robinson) hide behind trees or hedges. As a matter of fact this would not be possible, since designer Ben Stones's version of the Garden of Eden is utterly leaf-free, a series of white pillars being its only adornments.

The first production by Mr Goold as artistic director of the Oxford Stage Company, Paradise Lost is a revamped revival of a show he offered to warm approval two years ago when he was boss of Northampton's two theatres. Milton's sprawling epic poem deals with Satan's expulsion from heaven and his subsequent revenge upon God through the corruption of the beloved creatures of his creation. The great poet, a trifle immodestly perhaps, offered "things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme"; it is fitting that a similar challenge should not be baulked in respect of the stage.

The two-hour play that writer Ben Power was invited to produce (as the programme tells us) now runs, with interval, much closer to three. As with Romeo and Juliet, where the Prologue speaks of "two hours' traffic of our stage", the story could clearly not be crammed into so tight a framework. Or perhaps it could. Mr Power has necessarily cut great swathes of text including some of my favourite bits and, not surprisingly, all the many classical references which few people understand today. Why not a few dozen more lines, especially when the pace of this otherwise very exciting play lags towards the end?

Such longueurs as there are arise chiefly when Satan is absent from the scene. As presented in an excellent performance by Jasper Britton, he comes across more as a stand-up comic than the Prince of Darkness. This is partly through his many droll asides but also because of his close resemblance, facially and tonsorially, to Gene Wilder and sartorially, in his spattered white suit, to Sir Les Patterson though I suppose the stains here are blood rather than booze.

Four other performers (Christian Bradley, Caroline Faber, Stephen Fewell and Vinette Robinson) present the various denizens of Heaven and Hell with versatility and skill. Charles Aitken, a young actor of considerable promise, gives us a character called The Son sometimes as a 'hoodie' narrator (a modern touch that rather jarred with me) and, in the final stages of the drama, as Jesus Christ himself.