In 1961, the first audiences of Samuel Beckett's Happy Days would have instinctively tuned in to its atmosphere of post-apocalyptic desolation. The playwright never says as much, but to people living in the shadow of the cold war, the lifeless landscape surrounding Winnie as she sits buried up to her waist in sand would have been a vision of nuclear catastrophe. It is interesting that in 2007 the dazzling sunlight beating down on designer Tom Piper's mound of sacking reminds us of an apocalyptic vision of our own: as her umbrella bursts spontaneously into flames, this Winnie could be a victim of global warming.
Sitting exposed beneath a relentless sun, Alison Peebles chirrups away in the role, cheerfully underplaying her discomfort as she roots through her handbag and busies herself with her nails. Happy Days is about neither nuclear fallout nor global warming, but uses such imagery as a metaphor for the human condition. As Beckett sees it, Winnie is trapped in an existential nightmare, yet is content to pass the time with "mustn't grumble" stoicism.
In Dominic Hill's crisp, faithful production, a rosy-cheeked Peebles plays Winnie as a well-to-do Glaswegian, her melodious voice carrying the shrill edge of a school marm, her mood changing as quickly as the turns of the stream-of-consciousness script. In the first half, it is as if she is unaware of her own philosophical insights, which she blurts out only to dismiss with a platitude or a grimace. In the second half, buried to her neck, her hair taking on the wispy curls of an elderly woman, she finds the cruel truth of her condition - ageing, sexless and almost alone - less easy to ignore. It is a bright, witty, sensitive performance that shows Beckett's play is as unsettling as ever, whatever your preferred apocalypse.
· Until June 9. Box office: 01382 223530.
