Proof at the Maidment Studio

By PAUL SIMEI-BARTON

The idea that the rigorous logic of a mathematical proof can emerge from an unruly and deranged mind is an intriguing notion.

It has underpinned a recent surge of interest about things mathematical, as evidenced by the remarkable popularity of A Beautiful Mind, loosely based on Sylvia Nasar's biography of the schizophrenic mathematician John Nash.

David Auburn's multi-award winning play takes the association between madness and genius one step further, suggesting that if a tendency towards madness can be inherited, then perhaps the quality of genius could also be genetically transmitted.

This and a host of related ideas are scattered throughout the play, though Auburn seldom engages with ideas in depth. The result is surprisingly effective as the play succeeds in stimulating thought rather than offering neat resolutions.

In a rambling narration that tilts precariously between lucidity and incoherence, Geoff Snell, as a convincingly unhinged genius, speaks approvingly of the younger generation's taste for browsing - that leisurely mode of inquiry which seeks nothing in particular but remains open to random connections and unexpected insights.

It is an apt metaphor for the playwright's method. Auburn displays a refreshingly light touch, throwing out a profusion of complex ideas before casting them aside and moving to something more interesting.

It is a strategy that infuriated some British critics, who have argued that the play lacks intellectual rigour, especially when compared to Stoppard's treatment of mathematical themes in Arcadia.

The criticism seems unfair given that Auburn's interest clearly lies with the human story of Catherine, a 25-year-old depressive struggling to put her life together after the death of her father - a brilliant mathematician who in his final years suffered a debilitating mental breakdown.

The intellectual conundrums take second place to the emotional story that sees Catherine torn between the attentions of Hal, an enthusiastic young professor who wants to rifle through the unpublished notebooks of the great mathematician, and the overweening concern of Claire, her estranged currency-analyst sister.

Director Heath Jones provides a well-paced production that is thoroughly engaging, though at times it seemed to lack the elusive quality of lightness that characterises Auburn's approach to his subject.

Catherine offers an enormously challenging role and Sara Wiseman rises to the occasion with a convincing performance. On occasions I felt she appeared too solidly in control of her emotions and perhaps failed to convey the sense of vulnerability implicit in this young woman's fear of inheriting her father's madness.

The stand-out performance was from Fraser Brown as the ambitious young professor who must reconcile a growing attraction to Catherine with his desire to gain access to her father's notebooks. He somehow manages to both embody and subvert the stereotype of the maths geek.

Each scene is treated like a mathematical equation, moving inexorably towards an often explosive revelation that crystallises the meaning of the preceding dialogue.