Hell on earth is currently to be found in Southwark Playhouse, where director Kate Budgen makes her mark with a feverish and visually arresting revival of Eugene O'Neill's grimy 1922 expressionistic drama.

A classic story of alienation about a man who finds he has more in common with a gorilla than he does with the human race, the story unfolds over eight succinct scenes. The man, a stoker who exists in the fiery bowels of a cruise liner, may be exploited and known only as Yank, but at least he retains some self-respect as well as the camaraderie of his fellow stokers, who look to him as a leader.

The daughter of a steel millionaire descends from the upper decks for a glimpse of the working man and, on seeing Yank, calls him a "filthy beast", which propels him on a journey through New York in an anxious search for identity. But no one can give him the help and solace he needs.

A clever cruciform design, some Berkoff-style choreographed chorus scenes, an unsettling soundtrack and brilliant lighting from Richard Howell (an endless riff on the theme of light and dark) make this a hugely visceral experience. It sometimes feels less as if it has been directed and more like something conceived as an endlessly shifting painting; one with strong religious overtones. It is at its best when most stylised: an encounter between the heiress and her aunt is weakly played.

So it is almost tragic that the production's visual audacity is entirely let down by a lack of vocal clarity. The first, thrillingly muscular scene is almost completely inaudible, while Bill Ward's physically impressive Yank is often impossible to understand, the result of a dodgy accent and an excess of mumbling.