In essence, Meat is quite a simple tale of a family struggling to survive in the early days of Thatcherism. Mr Grotius, a butcher, supplements his income by renting cold storage space to a mysterious stranger called Jack Black; his daughter, Shona, pretends to work night shifts in a factory, but in fact walks the streets as a prostitute. As a commentary on the dehumanising effects of capitalism, Sarah Colvin's play doesn't quite hit its mark; it's actually far more compelling as a portrait of a family caught in a web of its own secrets and lies. Kate Nelson, the director, not only realises this, but makes the careful interplay of truth and fiction the driving force of her production.
Every scene is introduced with a hilariously kitsch, deadpan display of magic, accompanied by a blast of mildly gothic early-1980s pop. The more absorbed you become in the family's story, and the more you suspend your disbelief, the more surreal these interruptions seem. Nelson's cast achieve a similar effect with their wonderfully honest performances: characters that might otherwise come across as cliches (Shona, the tart with a heart; Jack Black, the cartoon demon) in fact feel startlingly like real people. Colvin clearly has a strong ear for the way families communicate - but it's the production that makes her play really special.
· Until August 24. Box office: 0870 745 3083.
