Since its publication in 1925, Kafka’s The Trial has consistently managed to intrigue and alarm readers. This stage adaptation by Stephen Berkoff, presented by Edinburgh University Theatre Company, proves that messing with the medium does little to dispel the potency of its symbolism.

One day, Joseph K (Simon Ginty) is arrested. He does not know why; he does not know who by. From this point onwards he is drawn into a lengthy and mysterious legal procedure in order to prove his “innocence". Yet he fails to get anywhere.

In a play that relies strongly on space, impressions and group choreography it is almost impossible to single out strong or weak characters – the mechanism of the plot slickly binds together a play which is greater than the sum of its parts. There's a blank, faceless quality in the way the Chorus step in to play various minor parts or provide background commentary which works well. The flamboyant appearance of the court painter Titorelli (David Leon) in the second half of the show is the single injection of individuality into the mechanics of The Trial.

The set is minimal, relying on a series of metal frames to evokes the surreal and nightmarish landscape of The Trial. Equally striking are the costumes and makeup: black and white with only hints of red, while all the actors are masked in white face-paint. It is sinister and grotesque: clearly a lot of thought has gone into ensuring a disturbing atmosphere pervades the production. In particular, the scene between Joseph K and the Laundress (Alice Bonifacio) brims with a tension and eroticism that weaves a hypnotic spell over the audience, who become subject to a sense of engrossing unease.

The overall visual appearance is mesmerising, and although this is a show rooted in the surreal, it is staged with beautiful precision – a precision which is ultimately haunting.