Four giant newspaper-mountains dominate the Young Vic stage. But this is no arty symbol. You feel that the six actors from Ramallah's Al-Kasaba Theatre who emerge from this extravagant pulp-dump are trying to show that there is a reality that not even journalism can capture - the urge to tell stories is unquenchable, even under occupation.
Since this show first appeared at the Royal Court a year ago the Palestinian situation has dramatically worsened, yet Amir Nizar Zuabi's remarkable production still boasts a surreal gallows humour. In the most astonishing item Hussam Abu Eisheh plays a beleaguered West Bank resident chatting by phone to his son in London and claiming, "We're fine, thank God," even as he records the decimation of his family. And in the scene that follows, two lovers greet each other in a restaurant with cries of "How are you doing? Still alive?" before exchanging amatory tokens of bullets and gas canisters.
Satire is the dominant weapon of these potent Palestinian storytellers. But the satire contains its own implicit protest at being forced to live in a state of enforced madness. When the best a man can promise his girlfriend is that "I'll bring you a hut in a refugee camp" it is an outraged comment on a life of reduced expectations. And when Georgina Asfour says that the world of checkpoints, poverty and bloodshed has become a daily reality, it is a heartfelt cry for a return to mundane normality.
The show offers no solutions. But how can artists succeed where generations of politicians have failed? For all its humour, the production is also detectably more sombre than the version I saw at the Royal Court, but that is hardly surprising since, as one of the actors remarks, "Death is our morning and evening." I still recommend it unreservedly to all inquisitive theatregoers. On the other side of the Thames David Hare's Via Dolorosa offers an outsider's eloquent response to Israeli and Palestinian life. This show, performed in Arabic with English surtitles, is a vital complement in that it is a report from the inside. It leaves you with the unforgettable sensation of being trapped in someone else's nightmare.
· Until August 3. Box office: 020-7928 6363.
