'This is modern day roasting!' declared young bard-ologist Woody as buffed-up boxers trash-talked each other before biffing in the ring. But this isn't Caesar's Palace Las Vegas, instead the neon signs around the stage spell out Troy, and we are seated with the other gods overlooking the groundlings huddled below us in the rain at the Globe Theatre Bankside watching heroic legends Hector and Ajax prowl the stage, write Ed & Woody Gray...

Director Owen Horsley has certainly stamped his mark with this spirited production of Troilus and Cressida.

A giant, fractured foot remains centre stage throughout the play, a constant reminder that the Trojans are broken people, immobile and under siege from a bedraggled Greek army, their once proudly venerated colossal statues reduced to rubble. Seven years of war has taken its toll on both sides, and this revival seems appropriate in a time of unceasing global conflicts and uncertainty.

The Las Vegas lounge bar vibe and glitzy showgirl shenanigans are amplified by Richie Hart's musical direction. Thersites, played by Lucy McCormick in full on Shakespearean fool mode, mocks the proceedings from the outset, spitting bile and spewing bawdy insights at the concept of a just and noble conflict and the wider morality of warfare.

Our celebrity-obsessed culture comes under fire when she doubles up her roles by playing Helen of Troy (who is actually Helen of Greece, abducted by Paris, and the reason for all this insanity), 'the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul'.

Helen lustily relishes the spotlight while others fight and die over her. In one scene, the face that launched a thousand ships is spotted casually launching her own fashion brand, presumably for a thousand shops. Thersites cuts to the bone, 'Wars and lechery: Nothing else holds fashion'.

The Trojan's male beauty contest, with generals in gaudy gold, sculpted armour, roused the rain-drenched groundlings, but Troilus and Cressida is a demanding watch. Firstly, there is no central character and tactical and philosophical discussions among the generals had me struggling to follow the true meaning at times.

Female characters are at the mercy of the weak and impotent, delusional male authority figures, shattered heroes, but Cressida and Helen's acts are also informed by the instinct to survive assaults and power struggles as much as by their own desires. Somehow, this seems underplayed amidst all the glitz and sleaze. Cross-casting the calculating and manipulative Ulysses as a woman adds another interesting dimension.

This production revels in the themes of infidelity and sends up the pomp and puff of masculine heroism in a way that engages throughout its lengthy duration. Samantha Spiro, cross-cast as auntie Pandarus, was a real spark throughout, with her 'Carry On, style delivery, right up until the last moments of the play when all her efforts to protect the young lovers from the destructive forces that surround them have come to nothing. She delivered the play's epilogue on the rain-soaked stage with great emotion, berating us, groundlings and gods, for our miserable whoring and complicity. Bequeathing us her STDs, she gave a special shout-out to a Winchester goose and I thought I heard a distant cackle from the Cross Bones Graveyard, before she sang the refrain 'Love, love nothing but love.'

We left the theatre to find our bus home as a chorus of soaked teenage groundlings lustily sung her refrain over and over into the Bankside night.

Shakespeare's Globe until 26th October.

Modern day roasting at Shakespeare's Globe - with a spirited production of Troilus and Cressida