Despite it being one of my favourite plays (big Rattigan fan here), I sometimes find The Winslow Boy difficult to characterize, depending on the emphases given to it by a particular production. You can see it as a courtroom and political drama with historic overtones, despite the courtroom and chamber of the House of Commons being offstage. You can see it as a drawing-room comedy (there are enough witty lines to make it so) with high dramatic moments. Or, as I did here, watching Jan Palmer Sayer’s production for CoPs, you can see it as a bittersweet, slowly-unwinding family tragedy, leavened in occasional moments, where some (not all) have a nearly-happy ending, but with pathos triumphant. And I think this is right.

When 14-year-old naval cadet Ronnie Winslow is expelled from Osborne Naval College for the crime of stealing a five-shilling postal order, his father Arthur Winslow only has to ask him twice if he is guilty before being convinced of his innocence and equally convinced of the necessity of having this fact established, proclaimed, and accepted.

Elder brother and Oxford wastrel Dickie can’t believe he should be cashiered over so trifling a matter, and his mother is mostly concerned with whether he caught a cold standing in the rain, summoning the courage to come in and face his father.

But it is sister and women’s suffrage activist Catherine who is her father’s strongest supporter, as much concerned with the justice as with the fact – a concern that will eventually set her against the family of her recently-contracted fiancé.

When the Winslows manage to engage the services of Sir Robert Morton, the most sought-after advocate in England, Catherine is suspicious of Morton’s motivates, but he easily convinces Mr Winslow that there is a greater requirement than justice: that of ‘right’. Once himself convinced of Ronnie’s innocence, they set out to persuade the government to “let right be done”. As the play ends, Ronnie has moved on in his life with some insouciance at the justicial and moral wrangling going on in his name, and the various adults in the room have to pick up the pieces.

That of Sir Robert Morton is generally seen as the headline role, but it is Arthur Winslow who has more by far to do. Chris Janes was excellent, completely commanding the stage that was his drawing-room, yet capable of the occasional wry comment on the strangeness of human behaviour. There were some nice touches in his physical acting such as the arthritic leg and visible ageing on the face, although I would have liked to have seen a more pronounced slow-down towards the end in his vocal delivery and general mobility.

There is something almost Shakespearean in the depiction of the father-son relationship, and Winslow’s realisation in their initial scene that his stern demeanour may be a barrier to honesty and thus justice was, I felt, very well done. I think this moment is the first hinge in the play: Winslow the father seeing that establishing Winslow the son’s innocence is his essential fatherly duty, far more important than any other family obligation, and Mr Janes never wavered, even though his character pays the heaviest price.

Julia Arundale’s portrayal of Catherine Winslow was, for me, the stand-out performance of the evening. I completely believed that she was pleased with her fiancé Watherstone reaching agreement with her father over their engagement, but equally not sorry to see the relationship eventually end. Her degree of exasperation with the wheels of justice was pitched perfectly, her gentleness towards the family solicitor Desmond Curry was touching, and she was absolutely her father’s daughter, with superb stage presence.

I think Rattigan intends Sir Robert to be something of a cypher. It’s slightly odd that he places Morton so firmly on the wrong side of the history of women’s suffrage, but perhaps it is merely a dramatic device to give spark to the relationship with Catherine.

Their dialogue provides both with hope that less-highly charged circumstances might be enjoyed between them in future, but Catherine’s prediction that he will see her in the Commons one day is nevertheless a challenge to both.

I felt Stephen Deaville was just slightly behind the part for some of the time, not entirely comfortable with the received pronunciation, but nevertheless smooth enough to show the gulf between him and the Winslows on first meeting, effectively portraying the advocate’s glee at how his arguments are received, and clearly enjoying the sparks with Catherine.

The role’s pivotal scene – the cross-examination of Ronnie at the end of the first act – was well played with both relish and pace, although my one real disagreement with the production as a whole was in allowing Ronnie to move around the set during his cross-examination from Sir Robert. Maybe this was for reasons of audience sightlines, and by all means to allow Sir Robert to wander, but this was a trial, an interrogation, a court-martial: I think Ronnie’s feet should have been nailed to the floor at a spot towards the back and then the audience’s gaze controlled with lighting.

I saw Martyn Leonard play young Ronnie on the night I attended, although he shared the run with Charlie Evans. This was a terrific and nicely understated performance from a young man. He may have been as tall as his mother but he convinced me that he was only a 14-year-old boy, with body language and vocalisation that was absolutely spot-on for the period and his situation.

As his mother Grace, Hannah Leonard was equally impressive: her tightly-controlled despair at the family’s increasing hardship, endured at her husband’s undiscussed insistence, was believably played – as was her joy at being able to discuss the drawing-room curtains with Jo Manser’s proto-OK magazine reporter.

As mentioned earlier, the play has pathos aplenty, nowhere more so than in the character of Desmound Curry, staunch family solicitor, long-term admirer of Catherine, and former England spin bowler. His hope that Catherine’s breaking with her fiancé might leave the field of play open for him was touching, and the beauty of the speech that Rattigan gives him in this scene speaks to far more than just this character’s predicament. Curry is a minor role in comparison with the others, but Pete Bryans played him with such class that I was silently willing there to be additional dialogue that I was unaware of, that Mr Bryans might have the opportunity to do more.

The rather unimaginative Watherstone was played by Adam Chamberlain, a thankless role but a competently played one, and Jonathon Wallis played Dickie Winslow, the elder brother who has to give up his Oxford studies and the focus of his father’s incomprehension at the ways of the increasingly-modern world. Mr Wallis was excellent in the role, suitably louche when required, and yet with an unspoken realisation that the change in family circumstances had actually done him a roundabout favour.

The main cast was completed by Brenda Onyon as the “untrained” parlour-maid Violet, another perfectly-pitched performance. A lesser  playwright would have the maid as the comic, but Rattigan knew better and gives her the climactic speech of the play.

Chris Janes’ set design was as straightforward and unfussy as the character he was playing, and the props and furniture were all in keeping; credit to Pete Bryans and Angela Reiss. The newspaper with Titanic headlines was a nice period touch. All of Shelagh Maughan’s costumes looked good (although Watherstone’s morning suit did appear to be a size too big for him) and sound and lighting were effected flawlessly.

But Ms Palmer Sayer added a further layer to this production – as furniture, rugs, and picture frames were gradually removed, presumably to be sold off, there was an increasing sense of menace. Triggered by the intransigence of the state, Arthur Winslow had set in motion a monster, a steam-roller, flattening his family’s fortunes and their expectations of conventional comfort, all in the name of justice and right for a son who didn’t appear to care a great deal anymore. But Rattigan’s point is that right is nevertheless required – as Sir Robert says, it’s very easy to do justice, but much more difficult to do right. Jan Palmer Sayer and her excellent cast and crew did right.