A hot summer night in the Californian desert shortly after the first Gulf war. A cat talks to a coyote, the moon looks down, and Gabriela goes a little crazy waiting for Benito, her soldier husband, to return from the field. It is a case of magic realism meets Sam Shepard in this moonstruck drama written by José Rivera, best known in the UK for his screenplay for The Motorcycle Diaries.
It is an evening that combines the seductive and the irritating in equal measure, and there might have been rather more of the latter if Roísín McBrinn's production didn't brim with confidence and ooze atmosphere.
It is no surprise at all when the moon suddenly leaps off the fridge and starts complaining that Shakespeare got his gender wrong. This playfulness is rather appealing, but the central relationship between Gabriela and Benito, while physically hot (this is one occasion when sex on stage doesn't make you squirm), is emotionally unsatisfying. And while Rivera tries hard to make the personal political, the economic and social details just don't add up.
All the talk of weapons and guns in the context of both the US military machine and male sexuality is too obvious, as is the couple's relationship where he calls her Private and she calls him Sir or Master, even though she's been reading Shakespeare and the Koran and he never got past fourth grade. Other revelations - Benito's confession of the razing of an Iraqi town - are casually thrown away.
McBrinn's production, given a beautifully simple circular, star-spangled design by Paul Wills, makes the most of what Rivera gives her to play with, and the performances are red-hot, although sometimes inaudible. The title alone made me wish I'd liked this more, but it left me cold.
· Until February 5. Box office: 020-7503 1646.
