Brian Hartley's set clips together like the fragments of memories blowing across Sanna bay, the most westerly point in mainland Britain, in Tim Nunn's elegiac drama. It starts off as an ungainly heap of driftwood but, piece by piece, it is given shape by its two actors - a window frame here, a sheet of corrugated iron there - until a byre stands proud on the stage. It is an impressive display of craftsmanship, more so given that it is designed to collapse in a spectacular finale.
Would there were anything so dramatic in Nunn's script. Written for his Glasgow-based Reeling & Writhing company, Only the Men is inspired by the recollections of poet Alasdair Maclean about his father, who became the only working crofter in this corner of the Ardnamurchan peninsula. In Katherine Morley's crisply directed production, Callum Cuthbertson plays a grieving son searching for a place to scatter his father's ashes, while James McAnerny haunts his thoughts as the dead man. They have the usual father-son communication problems, complicated by the death of a daughter and the contradictory attractions of big city life and Highland solitude.
The tension between the men is familiar from Oedipus on, but theatre is a present-tense business, and there can be no forward momentum when all the action is in the past. It takes most of the play to figure out what the son's problem is - a child's need to be heard - and, having no possibility of resolving things with a dead father, his musings seem aimless and self-indulgent.
However eloquently acted and atmospherically adorned by Katie Punter's flute playing, Only the Men ebbs and flows, giving no sense of why it should finish in one place or another.
· On tour until November 17. Details: 0141-548 1555.
· This article was amended on Thursday December 13 2007. We incorrectly attributed the above article to Rian Evans instead of Mark Fisher. We also misspelled Glasgow and had the publishing date as the 4th of November instead of the 3rd. This has been corrected.
