Well, that's not what I was expecting.

If you don't want a spoiler about this production, then best to click off now and come back to the review after you've seen Kneehigh Theatre's new take on Rebecca for yourself, because they've done something quite brave and unpredicted and it would take the edge off it if you've had a tip-off.

So if you're still reading, then you've been warned, because what director Emma Rice and the crew at Cornwall-based Kneehigh have injected into Daphne du Maurier's psychological thriller is a large amount of comedy. Unlikely as that sounds - and to begin with my own eyebrows raised as much as the colleagues I told about it afterwards: 'Comedy?!' - it turns out there are loads of opportunities to see the funny side of life at Manderley whilst losing nothing of the suspense and foreboding of the novel we all know and love.

Speaking of foreboding, the striking artwork associated with the production, Girl With An Orchid by Robert G Harris, was displayed on the curtain before it rose to ensure a mental image of the late Rebecca herself loomed large in our minds. That rose away to be replaced by a prone mannequin being lowered to the stage, beneath a battered small boat that settled amid rocks, accompanied by the mournful strains of a group of fishermen singing a traditional folk song, setting a macabre scene in which her dead body was at the heart of the following action.

But the unexpected laughs then were immediately upon us, supplied by young footman Robert, here re-imagined as Robert Tonkin, a touchy-feely sentimental young Welshman with a love of answering the telephone, of dancing energetically and with a mum going through the menopause. Any more than that will spoil some of his best lines, delivered by the superb Katy Owen, playing both Robert and Ben, who is an utter joy to watch.

Giles, Beatrice, butler Frith and a clever puppet of Jasper the dog provide more mirth; as Maxim's sister Bea has demanded a return to the costumed balls of the past tradition, Frith quips to the unenthusiastic Maxim: 'You know how she is when she wants something... best to cave now.'

Imogen Sage as the new Mrs de Winter is very interesting. The in-your-face production style does not demand very nuanced performances, with characters painted in rather broader brush strokes, but this Mrs de Winter has a fragility and simultaneous force of character even in the early scenes, in which she in turn bounds at her new housemates with the enthusiasm of Jasper the labrador and shrinks from them as comparisons with her predecessor are keenly absorbed.

Well-chosen music (There May Be Trouble Ahead...), the on-set mixture of beach and decaying ballroom, and the constant contrast between comedy and suspense creates a sense of the growing confusion and disorientation of Mrs de Winter, and is increasingly building to great effect by the time we reach the excruciating scene involving a broken vase.

The malevolent Mrs Danvers is rightly not a source of amusement and effectively ushers in much of the dark suspense and dread in her scenes, though there is one deliciously comic moment built on us knowing what the young bride doesn't when 'Danny' suggests dressing her for the big reveal at the costume ball: 'It would be a surprise for Mr de Winter, would it?' the girl excitedly supposes. Mrs Danvers: '*Momentary pause* Y-es.'

There is a genuinely spooky moment towards the end of the first half, contrasted quickly with a burst of cheery folk song and the news that a steamer has gone down on the rocks - yes, those rocks - which is ramping up the tension as we approach the inevitable discovery.

A palpable sense of the hovering pressure bearing down on our protagonists is conjured up cleverly by the ghostly boat suspended above the stage going into the second half, though we begin to see the hunted become the hunter in Mrs de Winter's case: 'You're not afraid any more, are you?' observes Maxim nervously.

As the enchanting Imogen Sage morphs from timid child to scheming vamp before our eyes, Mrs de Winter has become a force for Danvers to reckon with when this electric production reaches its final showdown.

Judging by the thundering applause and appreciative whistling that echoed around the Marlowe as this opening night came to a close, others agreed that Kneehigh's gamble has paid off.

Rebecca is at the Marlowe Theatre, Canterbury until Saturday, April 4, at 7.30pm, with matinees at 2.30pm on Thursday and Saturday. Tickets cost from £14.50. Visit www.marlowetheatre.com or call 01227 787787.