One hot summer day long, long ago, I was ruing my decision to take A-Level French as I sat at an exam desk in a stifling school hall staring blankly at the literature part of the paper centred on Flaubert’s Madame Bovary. At that moment, the messing around in class and always referring to the English translation of ‘Madame Ovary’ – oh, how witty we were – as the ‘original’ just to wind up our ineffective French teacher, felt rather misjudged. A couple of years earlier I’d been introduced to the anarchic works of Alfred Jarry by one fellow schoolmate, Adrian Edmondson – whatever happened to him, I wonder? – and I remember thinking, I wish we could have studied this particular 19th-century Frenchman instead. This thought resurfaced while watching the Barn’s latest main-stage production, The Massive Tragedy of Madame Bovary, as I mused whether this is what the book might have looked like in an alternative universe had Flaubert and Jarry collaborated on the novel.

Written and adapted by Peepolykus, the same gang that devised their popular version of The Hound of the Baskervilles, any illusions that we were in for a straight re-telling of the French classic were quickly dispelled as we were introduced to a pair of rat-catchers and a blind beggar in nothing short of a vaudeville routine. This set the tone, and for the next two hours we were treated to a plethora of characters all played by just four actors (as is written in the script) who were all at the absolute top of their game. Frankly, they had to be, to make this hugely physical and inventive play work. And boy, did it.

This highly visual production had everything – from slapstick, sight gags, wordplay, frequent breaking of character, countless costume changes, innumerable props, audience interplay and pure filth, to moments of real tenderness and pathos. In the scene where Emma is in church having a mental breakdown, her desperate plight was improbably enhanced by the ridiculous antics of the characters around her.

Among all the revelry, slapstick and sight gags, Emma, played by the outstanding Lorna Thompson, was quick to ensure that the play was brought back on track whenever it threatened to descend into complete anarchy. This frequent breaking of character and the fourth wall was an effective device and ensured that due reverence was paid to the original book. Peepolykus, despite their irreverent approach, clearly had a soft spot for Emma Bovary and didn’t want the message to be lost by reducing the book ‘to a list of highlights’, so when we were told ‘if you deny Madame Bovary her death, you kill her’, we knew we weren’t in for a comedic or upbeat ending. Played with a true deftness of touch, the final scene was incredibly moving and you could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

Over recent years we’ve come to expect much from the creativity of Lou Wallace – her production of Lilies on the Land is still one of my Barn favourites – but she took this to another level with this ambitious retelling of the French novel. Not constrained by having seen any previous productions of the play, she allowed her juices to flow – nay, gush – freely. Her set, designed by Chris Janes, was suitably inventive. The revolving door was a stroke of genius, enabling the play to maintain its fluidity throughout, despite it having a staggering 46 scenes. The wall with small cupboards / doors was reminiscent of Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In and it allowed for quick character interjections with maximum effect. The bistro area with musicians completed the set and we were treated to well-chosen snippets of contemporary pop songs sung live to frame the scenes and accompany the legion of transitions.

There were numerous clever effects to boot – a disappearing / reappearing bed, radio-controlled rats, a flamboyant scooter and a luminous ballgown which descended from above, right on cue. The overall impression was of a cartoonish circus of which Terry Gilliam would have been proud. Assembling a tight-knit quality team of pitch-perfect actors was essential to allow the director to bring her creative vision to life.

Lorna Thompson’s portrayal of Emma Bovary was sumptuous and utterly convincing. She gave her character a real sense of contemporary realism, never allowing the clowning going on around her to detract from giving us an understanding of the sense of desperation Emma was feeling. Danny Swanson gave us a hugely endearing and restrained Charles Bovary, reserving his larger-than-life comedy for his other roles – the cabbie being my personal favourite – and audience interactions. Gavin Palmer clearly relished each of the individual roles he’d been assigned and I particularly enjoyed the completely different shades he brought to Emma’s suitors, the rakish Rodolphe and reflective, artistic Leon. Josie Melton was a delight and it was lovely to see her in such a comedic role. Her facial expressions were an absolute joy and she made the most of all her cameos – from her squeaky Justin to her nefarious moneylender, Lheureux.

But to single out the actors and director is a travesty in what was very obviously a massively collaborative production which was much more than the sum of its parts. We had evocative and intuitive lighting designed by Trevor Wallace, fabulous costumes and props galore. The contributions from the musicians, Rob Wallace and George Curry, was immense – the operatic scene was delightful – as were the additional sound effects such as the echoing voices in the cathedral. Everyone connected with the show should take equal share of the plaudits and it wouldn’t have been out of place had they all been summoned to the stage to take a bow from the appreciative audience.

Some years ago, the Grauniad (sic) gave Peepolykus’s own production of TMTOMB a rather peevish two stars. They would’ve done well to have got Lou Wallace to direct it. I may have failed my French A-level on that sunny day long, long ago, but on this day, I award Lou Wallace and her joyous Bovary team five stars. With distinction.