Mark Strong, Lesley Manville are ferocious in pulse-pounding Broadway tragedy

Old “Oedipus” wouldn’t seem an ideal candidate for modernization. 

It’s hard to imagine the jaw-dropping fate of the legendary Theban king befalling any politician today. And even if his sticky situation were to somehow happen to an average Joe, it would go down as the greatest episode of “Maury” ever.

But British writer-director Robert Icke has wrestled Sophocles into 2025, breathtakingly so, with his starkly intense revival from London starring Lesley Manville and Mark Strong that opened Thursday night at Studio 54 on Broadway.

It works. It just works.

Although Oedipus is poised to become prime minister of the UK on the eve of an election in Icke’s telling, contemporary parallels to global politics abound. 

Most of them have been baked into this ancient story for more than 2,000 years, and only needed to be coaxed out by the brilliant mind behind “The Doctor” and Park Avenue Armory’s “Oresteia.”

The opponents of Oedipus (Strong) have questioned the circumstances surrounding his birth. Sound familiar? And an age gap with wife Jocasta (Manville), a la France’s Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron, raises our brows.

The somber recollection of a tragic mishap late in the play brings to mind Ted Kennedy and Chappaquiddick.

And so, almost instantly, we’re unbothered by the fact that characters with funny names like Creon are wearing business suits and watching the news.

From the off, Strong makes an imposing Oed. Granted, he’s far more robust than most of Britain’s mousy prime ministers of recent years. Keir Starmer’s practically Dilbert. But in the myth, the man’s a king. 

The actor, who was astonishing as Eddie Carbone in Ivo van Hove’s “A View From the Bridge” in 2015, splits the difference. He is both regal and breakably real.

And he smolders with Manville’s Jocasta, even if, gulp, he probably shouldn’t.

Manville, miraculously making her Broadway debut after a long career of sterling performances in the UK and as Princess Margaret on “The Crown,” starts off as the ideal spouse of a statesman — making the operation run smoothly, relaxing her stressed hubby and staying stern yet warm. 

What makes Jocasta such a live wire is her subtle undercurrent of concern; deep down she knows today will be the worst day of her life.

After the blind prophet Tiresias tells Oedipus his fortune, there is palpable worry in Manville’s portrayal, like a crystal glass that’s been placed on the edge of a busy bar.

While Icke is an artist who grabs hold of bold theatricality, his smartest change-ups are human ones. 

He presents Oedipus as a kind, if ambitious, father to his daughter Antigone and sons Eteocles and Polynices. The latter two aren’t actually in the original, only in other Theban plays. 

Their characters are added here to paint a picture of a sweet, supportive family unit that’s minutes away from being obliterated. The kids’ presence makes the ending hurt just as much as it shocks. 

Oedipus’ mother, Merope, is also thrown in for gravitas and a little dash of suspense. There has to be one or two people who still don’t know how this millennia-old tale plays out, right? 

She’s tenderly and hauntingly played by Anne Reid as a woman harboring a dangerous secret. Everyone in “Oedipus” is lying — little white lies, they think — and the result ain’t great. To say the least.

Reid, Strong and Manville are transfixing as awful revelation after revelation comes to light. Strong’s nice guy gives way to brutishness and boiling blood, and Manville’s heretofore stalwart Jocasta crushingly crumples when the grotesque truth is finally revealed.

I do wish “Oedipus” was put on somewhere other than huge and drafty Studio 54, which hardly ever suits plays. The audience is on the edge of their seat in interest, yes, but also to hear.

The crowd was unquestionably rapt, though, and eerily silent in a way that Broadway audiences rarely are. 

I also wasn’t convinced by a rushed final flashback sequence that, besides underlining the sadness of what just went down, is likely meant as a cool-down exercise after a hard five minutes. It doesn’t need to be there.

But what’s 60 seconds after two thrilling hours?

Most of the play takes place in real time in Oedipus’ sleek living room. And Icke puts a pulse-pounding clock onstage that counts down to the election results. But we all know it’s leading up to much more than that.

Oedipus is 100% certain he’s going to win. 

We know full well he’s going to lose, big time.  

And, as always, everybody’s eyes will be opened.