Best known for In the Solitude of the Cotton Fields and Roberto Zucco, Bernard-Marie Koltes has won a cult following since his death from Aids in 1989. This monologue dates from 1977, and it is perhaps most interesting as a precursor of the author's later and better work. Written in the wake of a breakdown and a suicide attempt that were linked to excessive drug-taking, it is a night-time odyssey through the underbelly of the city by a man trying to make sense of his life and outsider status as a foreigner. In the inhospitable city, he must cast himself upon the kindness of strangers.
The best thing about these 60 minutes is the setting: the production is staged in the Arcola's second space, which opens directly on the back streets of Dalston in north-east London. Taylan Halici's lost soul rushes in from the cold and tells us of his plight, appealing to our better natures in a derelict shed-like building where the rain pours down through a wiry screen and puddles spread across the floor. It is undeniably effective and very atmospheric - but it doesn't hide the fact that this story of alienation and paranoia is repetitive and too often seems like a polite rant. Halici captures all the quiet desperation of his character, but the unvaried delivery can be monotonous and the acoustics of the space are not sympathetic.
The Arcola is the most imaginative of theatres in the way it embraces and reflects its local community. Koltes' monologue takes on further meaning when performed by a Turkish Cypriot in the heart of London, although it is perhaps a pity that the translation has not been fully transposed from the French capital to our own.
· Until October 9. Box office: 020-7503 1646.
