ADOLF HITLER meets Al Capone in Bertolt Brecht’s 1941 play, The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui.

Written during his Scandinavian exile, he swaps his German homeland for the docklands of Chicago, where gangsters are plotting to set up a protection racket in the cauliflower industry.

Significant milestones in Hitler’s journey to becoming Fuhrer are represented by Ui’s own victories in a stylistic production very well directed by Walter Meierjohann.

His wangling of support from Weimar Republic president Paul von Hindenberg becomes the gangster’s artful adoption of local politician Dogsborough as a reluctant ally.

The 1933 Reichstag fire and subsequent framing of Marinus Van der Lubbe becomes an arson attack on a cauliflower warehouse blamed on the innocent Fish.

As each scene concludes, a neon tickertape above the stage explains the parallels between the two men.

Ian Bartholomew cuts a sinister figure – becoming less the jovial yet menacing mobster, and more like Hitler as each episode passes.

As the play unravels, his hair becomes more slicked to one side and his physical demeanour slips gradually into that of the future leader of the Third Reich.

Finally, he stands at a grey podium, listing names of the US states he intends to conquer, his arm outstretched in front of him.

He is supported by a brawny all-male ensemble cast who play disgruntled businessmen, blood-thirsty gangsters, corrupted politicians and horrified bystanders.

Playhouse regular Leanne Best, as the only female cast member, switches mannerisms and accents as the barker introducing the play with sideshow flamboyance and a production line of different women.

Designer Ti Green’s ambitious stage set is visually captivating. Featuring barely any colour at all except for the occasional, and poignant, splash of bright red, it has the feel of a charcoal sketch.

The cast’s faces are similarly artificial, covered by thick white make-up like a pierrot’s mask and their features exaggerated with angular strokes.

Period film footage and montages of rolling news channels light up a huge screen at the back of the stage – a dramatic effect that is not overused. The judge’s bench dwarfs the courtroom scene that sees Fish condemned – its shape reminiscent of a giant tomb.

But for all this – and despite Liverpool playwright Stephen Sharkey’s snappy new translation of Brecht’s original script – the play lacks menace.

It is a series of events played out in chronological order with none of Ui’s ambitions explored in any depth. He is a monster, of that there is no doubt, but he’s a two-dimensional one.

Brecht’s warning, reinforced in his punchy epilogue, that the world is full of Hitlers-in-waiting, is in the end made but not truly felt.