A marriage made in the tearoom

Hijra
Bush, London ****

Seven years ago Jonathan Harvey made his debut at the Bush with Beautiful Thing, a gay coming-out fantasy that was so touching and feel-good you could almost feel the audience tingling with delight. The Bush has done it again with Ash Kotak's debut play.

Like Harvey's work, it is a gay wish-fulfilment fantasy, it is funny and true - about feelings, if not realities - and it has a will-o'-the-wisp quality. It will probably look incredibly insubstantial in a few months, let alone years, but it provides an enormously enjoyable evening and offers a comedy of recognition for the Asian community and, for the rest of us, an opportunity to peep into an unfamiliar world.

On a visit to Bombay with his mother and aunt, Nils is constantly pressured to marry. When Sheila, unlucky in love and unlucky with her mother, turns up, it looks as if this will be a marriage made in the tea-room if certainly not heaven. But Nils has a secret called Raj, whom he has fallen for big time. Raj is the adopted son of a Hijra, India's third gender, who are both despised and revered because people believe they have the power to grant wishes and cast spells.

So it proves. Raj transforms himself into Rani to beat the immigration authorities, and he and Nils secretly marry and attempt to make a new life in Wembley. But they don't count on the nosiness of the local community, where gossip is a way of life, and Sheila's mum's capacity for revenge.

This is a play that knows it is a piece of fluff and revels in the outrageousness of fantasy. But in painting a picture of how we'd like things to be, rather than as they really are, it throws up a fascinating portrait of a community torn between past and present. There is an interesting take on motherhood, too, with the behaviour of the mothers of Nils and Sheila in sharp contrast with the enabling actions of Raj's mother, a fantasy we'd all like.

Ian Brown's production plays up the farcical elements of the play but never lets it slip into full-blown camp, and the performances are so lovely and well-judged you want to hug the actors. I suspect that Kotak is more likely to end up big in TV or film than the theatre. But grab a bit of him while you can, and rediscover the joy of having such a good time you want to skip out of the theatre with a silly grin.

Until December 9. Box office: 020-7610 4224