Amy Rosenthal's tale of learning to love yourself and coping with the insecurities of both youth and age is written straight from the heart, and it shows. The story, about 55-year-old Nancy who loses her job and finds herself as a nude model for a life-drawing class - much to the apoplexy of Nina, her uptight art historian sister - comes from a long tradition of boulevard theatre.
Yet just as Ayckbourn's comedies so often reveals the darks truths of suburban life, so too does Rosenthal succeed in showing the real hearts beating beneath the saggy middle-aged breast, or indeed the rather more perky bosom of lovelorn young Zelda, unhappily in love with 48-year-old art teacher Philip. This is a play that at its very best moments sings with truth and pain.
The other members of the art class - ranging from cake-making Bridget to unhappy, hard-as-nails Josie - are stock types, largely there to provide the laughs, and Tamara Harvey's otherwise excellent production - both energetic and graceful at its best - is as fuzzy as the script on the concept of middle age.
For all its bravery in showing the middle-aged female heart - and the wrinkled middle-aged female body - the play subscribes to an outdated stereotype which imagines all women over the age of 50 still dressing like their grannies. It matters because it undercuts the thrust of the play, making it cosier and less challenging.
When I first caught this play in a small fringe production at the Chelsea Theatre back in 1999, Rosenthal's talent and its commercial potential stood out. On second viewing there is no reason to change that first impression. It's not going to change the course of British theatre, but it will make a lot of theatre-goers very happy, and that's quite an achievement in itself.
· Until February 12. Box office: 01923 225671
