Theatre is like church: you go there to know yourself better. That's an idea that playwright David Greig takes literally. His central character - known only as the Man, although he could be a Keith - doesn't know himself at all. He has lost his memory after a mystery accident in deep snow on a mountain pass.
The Man's struggle for identity is transparent, but the other characters on the hotel terrace where he recuperates are equally uncertain. The woman from the consulate claims to be Welsh but was born in Essex, schooled in Yorkshire and employed all over the world. The hotel proprietor is a different nationality every time he enters. And the backpacker who claims to be the man's wife has lost all worldly possessions.
This quest for self-definition is a perennial theme in Greig's work and, although there is something circular about a playwright creating characters who don't know what their character should be, he has rarely focused the debate as sharply and as amusingly as here.
Although dealing with the potentially distressing subject of memory loss, Greig is on top witty form as he questions how much personal traits can be attributed to the national character and, more affectingly, how much each of us is trapped by the personalities we have made for ourselves. The more the Man - played by a beneficent Hugh Ross -hears about his past, the less he likes the sound of the person he was.
Vicky Featherstone's polished production looks great on Neil Warmington's set of wooden shutters, with crisp performances from Frances Gray, Paola Dionisotti and Jonathan McGuinness in a bright, breezy and brainy play.
· Until March 26. Box office: 0141-552 4267. Then touring.
