When it was first staged in 1932, and no doubt for several years afterwards, Priestley's superbly-crafted debut play was considered bold, racy, innovative, shocking even. Focusing on the hedonism that lies beneath the surface of the world of a group of bright young things, it tackles subjects that were seldom spoken of in polite pre-war company.

Marital infidelity, which this group are ultimately revealed to have indulged in with some enthusiasm (though keeping it in the family, so to speak), is the least of it.

There's also drugs abuse. Manslaughter. Serious financial double-dealing (or maybe that should be triple-dealing). And there's (unconsummated) homosexual love too.

Add to that lot Priestley's interest in time, chance, and the theory that past, present and future can exist together, and you can see why it was such a big hit.

The plot is ingenious. The six principal characters, largely involved with a major publishing company, are enjoying a weekend at the home of two of them, Robert and Freda Caplan (Tony O'Callaghan and Georgina Sutton).

When a visiting, respected novelist Miss Mockridge (played with considerable presence by Shirley Anne Field) swings the conversation round to the death, apparently by suicide, of Robert's brother and publishing partner Martin and a mysterious musical cigarette box is produced, the assembled company go into reluctant-confessional mode.

Bit by bit the truth is teased out. Relationship after relationship is shown to be a sham. The cosy group starts to fall apart. All their futures are in doubt, as is the future of the publishing business.

And then Priestley gives the action a flick back in time. All that nastiness could have been avoided if only Gordon Whitehouse (James Cawood) had managed to find the music first time around when he was twiddling with the radio dial and they had all begun to dance rather than letting the conversation develop so disastrously.

Thought-provoking stuff, cleverly presented. Yet we've moved on. This play is a period piece which has been overtaken by style and events. Despite the excellent quality of the performance and production at Leeds Grand, it moves along at a disconcertingly slow place, particularly in the first half.

We have perhaps grown too used to the slickness of television drama, which is geared to the brief 21st century attention span. A play in which very little happens physically (although a great deal happens emotionally), in which the action is confined to a single room, the occasional comings and goings of some of the characters, one confrontation which leads to a pushing-down, and quite a lot of outraged shouting, does seem to plod a bit and at times seems almost to be sending itself up (which perhaps accounted for the occasional audience merriment at serious moments).

As for Priestley's time theories, which were new to many people at the time he introduced them. Well since then we've been there, seen the series and got the tee-shirt with a Tardis on the front.

However, this touring revival is ultimately entertaining and interesting, not least for the surprises that come when you see actors best-known for their soap-opera characters playing someone else on stage.

Can that really be Chloe Newsome, Alec Gilroy's granddaughter in Corrie, beneath that voluminous blonde wig playing Betty Whitehouse, the wife-of-convenience who seeks sexual solace elsewhere? And can Peter Amory, who spent years playing the wheelchair-bound businessman Chris Tate in Emmerdale and in Dangerous Corner gives a mesmerising performance as the amoral bachelor Charles Stanton, catalyst for most of the nastiness, really be so tall standing up? The cast is completed by another soap regular, Emmerdale's Nicola Wheeler, who is impressive as the lovelorn spinster Olwen Peel.

  • Dangerous Corner is at Leeds Grand until Saturday.