Mandy's life has been on the slide since she met local gangster Den. He left her when she got pregnant with Laikeisha, now eight, only popping round occasionally to put on the frighteners. Meanwhile, what with the drugs and the drink constantly on tap from resident yardie Dwayne, Mandy appears to have hardly got out of bed for years and is only holding her life together because of the support of her brother Raymond and loyal friend, Paula, both of whom could do with a little support of their own. The front door is off its hinges and looks like staying that way because Mandy can't get out of bed in time to make the town hall appointment to get it fixed, an anti-social eviction order could be triggered at any moment and daughter Laikeisha is tired of her neglectful mother's broken promises. But worse is just around the corner.
A decade ago, Beatrix Campbell's brilliant study of crime and community, Goliath, was turned into a memorable theatre show by Bryony Lavery. More recently Campbell and Judith Jones co-wrote All the Children Cried, about women who have killed children. It is the only play I've ever seen about Myra Hindley - and I've seen more than can be good for me - that didn't feel like exploitative tabloid theatre.
But the duo come a cropper with this piece, set on a Hackney housing estate which is almost as chaotic as Mandy's life. You do wonder what the theatre company Sphinx - who apparently helped develop the piece - and director Deborah Bruce were thinking of in letting this play out on its own before it could toddle, let alone walk.
Jones and Campbell's subject is a good one: their justified rage over the creation over the last 20 years of a permanent underclass which ensures that Britain has the highest rate of child poverty in Europe. But Blame seldom rises above being a noisy episode of EastEnders, and although the second half sees the characters finally finding their voices, their sudden transformations from deadbeat losers to articulate, self-conscious beings is as improbable as it is surprising.
· Until March 17. Box office: 01904 623568. Then touring.
