The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. Maybe. It's certainly beginning to rule the stage. Two weeks ago at the Playhouse, Kindertransport mediated Nazi persecution via a daughter, mother, foster-mother and grandmother; fathers and husbands were referred to but not seen. Last week came Molora, the latest play by the acclaimed South African author Yael Farber whose work and production team have already been warmly welcomed by Oxford audiences.

I have to confess myself at a loss to match the play I saw to the author's message in the programme and the advance publicity. The claim is that this study of the terrible cycle of violence and revenge is closely, almost specifically, related to South Africa's own years of apartheid strife and her climb from the ashes of war (Molora is the seSotho word for ash') to forgiveness and tolerance.

Farber's immediate source was her reading of The Oresteia and what we see is a spirited version of this great story, whose main roles are for women, Klytemnestra and Elektra. There seemed no necessary South African connection at all. Orestes, who stays his hand at the last from killing his mother and breaks the revenge sequence, is no Mandela figure. The staging (Farber herself directs) definitely aims at Greek. A three-sided stage is constructed at the back of the Playhouse, the play (100 minutes) is taken straight through, there are only three speakers and a chorus. On the other hand, much violent action is shown, and the chorus doesn't have extended interludes of comment or apprehension, repeating instead single phrases at varying pitch and doing a lot of foot-stomping, though their native instruments (bows and percussion) are highly atmospheric.

Dorothy Ann Gould is a quite magnificent Klytemnestra, statuesque, proud and vengeful. Her account of the murder of Agamemnon is the evening's highlight. I wondered why she was wearing wellie boots, but they had a grisly part to play later, at the death of Aegisthus (one of the absent men), giving a whole new meaning to the phrase "my heart is in my boots". Jabulile Tshabalala is vocally underpowered as Elektra though her reunion with the long-awaited Orestes is touching. Sandile Matsheni is an athletic Orestes, and the final tableau of the siblings is effective.

Several African languages are used, by all the characters; so are verses from the Old Testament, and, suddenly, Shylock's speech on revenge. I thought it a mistake to have the Chorus's last words sung in an African language, which must have put them beyond the audience's understanding. Only Klytemnestra's final speech held out some hope - and not just for Africa.