No one is more obsessed by the theatre than the theatre profession. David Mamet said as much when writing about A Life in the Theatre, his 1978 backstage comedy: "Our theatrical drolleries, necessities and peculiarities may be diverting to others, but they are fascinating to ourselves."
Unless you're in Equity, "diverting" is as much as you can say about this play about two actors racing through a series of repertory potboilers. As a portrait of theatrical mishaps, camaraderie and insecurity, it is merely whimsical, showing little of the urgency that characterises Mamet's best work.
It has two basic jokes, both of which you'll find in a routine edition of French and Saunders: one, that sometimes theatre goes wrong; and two, that being rootless and exposed, actors are sometimes thin-skinned and volatile.
It's hardly life-changing stuff, much as it is a joy to savour Mamet's way with terse, frugal and perfectly nuanced dialogue. Written before American Buffalo, his debut hit, it bears the hallmarks of his later work, but without the compelling themes. Harold Pinter is the only other writer who could sustain an entire scene on the use of a single misguided word - "brittle" - to such funny and revealing effect.
Whimsical it might be, but there are tensions that Tony Cownie's production underplays. Jimmy Chisholm, as the old pro, understands his character's blend of pride, skill, arrogance, jealousy and fear, but Joe McFadden, as the bright young pretender, is naturally too amenable to allow much friction to develop between them. Mamet excels at surly, masculine grunts of communication but, instead of being elliptical and gruff, McFadden tends to emote even the briefest of lines.
Still, such niceness is in keeping with a play that Mamet wrote "with love [about] an institution we all love". There is no dark subtext to explore and, indeed, the production is at its most strained when it tries to add a note of existential poignancy to the closing moments.
· Until January 31. Details: 0131-248 4848.
