The buzz of bluebottles and the visible evidence of maggoty, rotting, oozing flesh ensure that you are never in doubt about exactly what is at stake in Glyn Cannon's punchy and updated version of Antigone. Even when she is disappeared, entombed in a suspended box like a tragic David Blaine, the heroine is gone but certainly not forgotten.
In a modern state waging a war against terrorism, ruled over by the smooth Creon and his and spin doctors, stroppy teenager Antigone has walled herself up in her bedroom and refuses to come out after both her brothers are killed in a violent, murky incident. With one being given a state funeral and the other denounced as a terrorist, Antigone takes action that doesn't improve the bouquet in her bedroom.
Cannon's script is foul-mouthed, urgent and to the point, and reinvents this old story in a shockingly contemporary fashion. Hannah Eidinow's clever and striking production is a match for it in every way. Antigone, with its story of divided loyalties and hard decisions in testing times is, of course, very much a play for today, but Cannon's version is particularly interesting in the way it pitches Antigone and Creon against each other; the intransigence of both is a kind of misplaced fanaticism that inevitably leads to their destruction.
· Until August 30. Box office: 0131-556 6550.
