There are rows and rows of a certain grade of terraced housing in Leeds which, but for the appearance of cars and the disappearance of outside toilets, has remained unchanged for generations. Armley resident Andrew G Marshall has taken the enduring nature of these dwellings to create back-to-back narratives in which everyone is in and out of each other's business.
Marshall's play is crowded, intimate and initially a bit confusing. You come straight in off the street, as it were, pitched into a room where a third of the cast sport bowlers, another third wear headscarves and the final third have highlights. Then it dawns that Marshall is working with multiple time schemes and, moreover, multiple generations of the same family.
His idea is to dramatise the three ages of Leeds - the original factory suburb at the turn of the 20th century; the depressed post-industrial community of the 1960s; and the smartly urban student mecca of the present day. Sam, in 2004, likes going to clubs; Lynda in 1960 has problems with the loan club; and Molly in 1910 is in the club.
It's an impressive feat to keep so much contrapuntal activity in motion, yet I couldn't avoid feeling I was admiring the play's construction rather than engaging with its characters. There's a sense that these are stories that have been told many times before, and there comes a point where bluff, folk wisdom hardens into cliche.
A cast of six flit through an extraordinarily complex sequence of costume changes; and though Robert Pickavance gives a finely controlled study of suppressed fury, there's a homogeneity to some of the performances that leaves your head spinning rather than the pulse racing.
· Until June 5. Box office: 0113-2137700.
