But the production does dismally little to carry it forward imaginatively

But the production does dismally little to carry it forward imaginatively. Having Moth (Grant Gillespie) sing “Love Me Tender” to a karaoke machine is a feeble idea. Wouldn’t this lot be addicted to the linguistic conventions of e-mail and palm-top computers?It doesn’t help that Unwin’s mostly laugh-free account of the play blurs the distinction between the lords and the visiting retinue of the Princess of France. Instead of coming across as possessing a superior emotional maturity to the men, these young women are just champagne-swigging, shopaholic ladettes. So you wonder here why they are allowed to dictate the terms of the postponed happy ending.One performer stands out from a cast that is largely left struggling in impossible circumstances.

Nick Fletcher is delightfully funny and charming as Berowne, investing this character’s defensive verbal dazzle with a slightly rueful sense that, deep down, he knows that brilliance is not enough. Apart from him, this Love’s Labour’s Lost does not feel like a labour of love.Gardner Arts Centre, Brighton, until 10 March (01273 685861); then touring until 28 April to Darlington, Chelmsford, Cambridge, Wolverhampton, Guildford and Ipswich. History has that wonderful and seemingly arbitrary way of dealing with reputations. Saints in their lifetime can, soon after death, become sinners when their biography is written, and vice versa.

And while some figures remain in our collective memory, however distorted our recollection, others who were once legends are lost for no good reason. Then they are suddenly rediscovered and pored over, like an old love letter found in a chest of drawers. History has that wonderful and seemingly arbitrary way of dealing with reputations. Saints in their lifetime can, soon after death, become sinners when their biography is written, and vice versa.

And while some figures remain in our collective memory, however distorted our recollection, others who were once legends are lost for no good reason. Then they are suddenly rediscovered and pored over, like an old love letter found in a chest of drawers.
Hildegard of Bingen, a 12th-century nun in what is now Germany, is a classic example of both processes. Considered inspired by contemporaries – for her music, manuscripts and mysticism – but rather difficult, she was celebrated as a model saint soon after her death in 1179. Yet she faded from view, and it was only in the 19th century that her feast day was marked again.For once, the church was one step ahead of a secular world that did not pluck Hildegard from obscurity until 1983. In that year, a recording of her work A Feather on the Breath of God by the Gothic Voices ensemble became a surprise, award-winning bestseller. By 1997, The Face was acclaiming her “the feistiest woman since Boadicea, the smartest since Athena”.Fiona Maddocks approaches this roller-coaster of reputation with a wry smile and a steady eye for the baseline between these peaks and troughs.