Getting wasted can be fun; watching other people getting wasted is frequently rather dull. Unless it is Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, the same tends to apply in the theatre, too. So it proves with Gary Duggan's account of a two-day bender that takes three young men high on alcohol and drugs on an odyssey through the streets of Dublin, the names of which trip off their tongues like a religious litany.
The trouble is that coming in the wake of Conor McPherson, Mark O'Rowe and many others, Duggan's entwining monologues often sound like some kind of over-familiar generic Irish play about the underbelly of life. The writing only intermittedly flares, though when it does, it roars: there is a terrific vomit of words capturing life down among the discarded Happy Meal containers on O'Connell Street.
But Duggan's callow youths are too lightly drawn and not interesting enough to grab your attention. We hear too little of would-be writer Bernard's dreams or drug dealer Dave's insecurities. Only bartender Ray, torn between his desire to be a Jack-the-lad and his rusty love for long-time girlfriend Linda, springs fully formed on stage. His two wildly differing accounts of sex provide the best sustained passages of writing.
It is the absent women - objects of desire and fear - who haunt a journey that is not just physical, but also a pilgrimage into the self exploring the pressures and insecurities faced by young men. Jim Culleton's production is nicely judged, and Barry Ward, Sam O'Mahoney Adams and Darren Healy are all terrific, though the latter's accent is thick as tar. Perhaps in losing themselves the trio do begin to find their real selves, just as in writing Monged, Duggan is edging towards finding his own voice.
· Until December 1. Box office: 024-7655 3055.
