We must, it seems, be grateful for small mercies. A recent German production of this rarely performed Schiller drama ran to an eye-watering 10 hours, so at least Chichester is letting us off lightly with a mere two and three‑quarters.

Yet despite the best efforts of skilled adaptor Mike Poulton to wrestle the original 1799 trilogy into a coherent stand-alone work, the minutes pass so slowly that it feels as though we have joined Wallenstein himself in fighting 15 hard years of the Thirty Years War.

Mein Gott, the Thirty Years War. Unless you’re fully versed in the astonishing intricacies and dastardly machinations of this religion-fuelled 1618-1648 conflict, during which our unreadable hero commands the forces of the Holy Roman Emperor until hubris finally gets the better of him, the evening is going to be a long one.

Historical specificities elude us from the start as, increasingly, do vast swathes of dialogue, reported events and, even more alarmingly, actual characters.

After years of fighting, plotting and counter-plotting, Wallenstein (Iain Glen) is tempted by the Swedes into betraying the Emperor with the offer of the prized kingdom of Bohemia.

It’s hard, though, to care about the knife-edge fate of this proto‑European Union, as Glen’s vocally showy performance, perhaps understandably given the intractability of the material he’s working with, is impressive surface pomp underpinned by no discernible emotion.

Angus Jackson’s gloomy, static production sees loyalties and family ties tested, young love thwarted and Jeremy Irons’s son Max show off his model cheekbones in a decent stage debut but it’s hard not to feel that the recent Schiller revival should have called it quits after the triumphs of Don Carlos and Mary Stuart.

Until 13 June. Information: 01243 781312, www.cft.org.uk.