Del Boy meets Homer in Kae Tempest's bold and vivid Paradise

In Sophocles’ Philoctetes, the wounded warrior is abandoned on the island of Lemnos by Odysseus but, following a prophecy that says the great archer is crucial to winning the Trojan War, Odysseus returns to fetch him. Kae Tempest’s new version whips up a storm of ideas, adding contemporary references, an all-female cast and unexpected plot diversions.

This is familiar territory for the poet and playwright. Brand New Ancients which which cast the gods as modern London families, was a brilliantly conceived everyday epic. Elements of Paradise, majestically staged by Ian Rickson, are similarly exhilarating. For one thing, it’s surprisingly, gleefully funny. A fantastic Lesley Sharp gives us a broad Cockney-accented Philoctetes – think Del Boy meets Homer. Achilles was “a mate of mine”, and the legendary bow of Heracles is “a good bit of kit”. He doesn’t sugar-coat his current living arrangements, either: “It’s a f---ing cave.”

Wiry and watchful, with hair scraped back and the leg of her tracksuit bottoms rolled up to reveal a festering wound, oozing pus, Sharp demonstrates how both physical pain and that of betrayal have warped this warrior. Philoctetes longs for his family, and is hungry for news of former comrades, but fears re-entering the world – and mistrusts any offer of help. He clings to his tale of victimhood, lust for vengeance, and his remaining pride.

The lead roles aren’t gender-swapped, rather played as men, allowing Tempest – who recently came out as non-binary – to interrogate typically masculine traits like macho toughness. Anastasia Hille is excellent as a brusque, blinkered Odysseus who will do whatever necessary to end a morale-shattering 12-year war, including corrupt a young soldier with arguments like “You tell one lie to one man, you save the entire nation.” Gloria Obianyo gives weight to the callow novice soldier Neoptolemus’s moral struggle, and his reckoning with the legacy of his father, Achilles.

The debate over the justification for and consequences of war is the strongest thread, gaining added resonance with news from Afghanistan. Although Odysseus talks about aftercare for soldiers, he’s traumatised too, and in treating Philoctetes like a weapon, he sacrifices more of his humanity. Even Neoptolemus commits an Abu Ghraib-evoking war crime.

Unfortunately, Tempest loses the dramatic thread as their vivid, arresting poetry is overtaken by bald state-of-the-nation polemic. Scattershot Britain-bashing ticks off hot-button issues like racism, social inequality, cybersex, freedom of movement, and the refugee crisis. “There is no glory in our country to fight for. Our country is Hell,” proclaims Philoctetes – to prim, scattered applause. The heavy irony of the title is driven home.

Tempest also veers off the original narrative completely, without offering a clear alternative. Chorus members are brought into the story, but they’re ill-defined as individuals; having fewer would help. Rae Smith’s design, with its muddy beach and makeshift camp, suggests another island – Lampedusa – but that requires more specificity in the world-building.

Instead, it’s the allusive, lyrical passages that work best: ESKA, as the all-seeing Aunty, dances through their silky rhythms.

There’s interesting dissection here of myths old and new, but in trying to create one for our age, Tempest can’t quite give us a play for the ages.

Until September 11. Tickets: 020 7452 3060; nationaltheatre.org.uk