This is not the kind of play that would pop up at the Bush or Royal Court in a million years. But there is no doubt that Amy Rosenthal (daughter of the more famous Jack) is a real find, one of an increasingly rare breed of writers with a strong commercial bent, a strong sense of humour and something to say.
Watching this story of a fat, fiftyish woman called Nancy, who after redundancy and a pickled-onion binge, finds herself through nude modelling for a life-drawing class, I was reminded of the techniques of feminist plays of the 70s. But there is not a lot of female solidarity here. It is the way Rosenthal gives high comedy a dark edge, particularly in the relationship between Nancy and her spiky, apparently more successful art-lecturer sister, that is interesting. Although she can be deliciously acerbic, at her best, Rosenthal writes like a female Alan Ayckbourn.
This is not a flawless play. But even when it is at its most schematic and the characters at their most obvious, Rosenthal succeeds in keeping your attention through the sparkiness and charm of her writing.
The production, like Nancy, is initially lacking in self-confidence and the performances are uneven. But Rosenthal has the makings of a real star. A commercial production house should snap her up and nurture her carefully like a precious plant. One day she is really going to deliver.
Till December 11. Box office: 0171-352 1967.
