A troubled teenager is thrown out of home by his single mother and is taken in by a lonely middle-aged pederast. The man watches the boy - the object of his desire - as if watching a film unfold inside of his head, while the teenager's night-time odysseys through the city lead him first to become involved with crazy Daisy and then in a destructive gay relationship with the emotionally manipulative Paul.
Scripted by Meredith Oakes, and directed and choreographed by Dominic Leclerc, Shadowmouth is inspired by the moody, on-the-edge photography of Nan Goldin and her violet-eyed nighthawks, and belongs to a growing and increasingly important strand of contemporary British theatre where neither the word nor the physical have the upper hand.
Shadowmouth is as much about the gaps between the words as the words themselves, and the actors speak as eloquently with their bodies as with their mouths. At its very best, the piece has the impact of landmark shows such as Tiny Dynamite. There are moments when bodies somersault over each other like Slinkies down the stairs in a desperate pas de deux of desire, longing, loneliness and - in one case - ownership.
If Leclerc's production and Liz Cooke's design combine with a jangling soundtrack to successfully create the shimmer of the city at night, Oakes' script offers a tart conduit to everyday survival. The boy's mother, a woman who has closed her heart to hurt is of the opinion that tiramisu is a cure for unhappiness.
It doesn't entirely work. There is something a touch neurotic and bloodless about it and, even at 70 minutes, too much of other people's unhappiness can become tedious. But although its scope is small, it is beautifully executed by Leclerc and his cast.
· Until June 17. Box office: 0114-249 6000.
