Remember Monica Lewinsky? And those tapes of telephone conversations made by her so-called friend, Linda Tripp, that almost brought down the presidency? You can't help feeling that this arty staging of the Lewinsky/ Tripp phone conversations, which range from blow jobs to blow dries, is simply too little, too late. This piece - with its double-edged, sniggering title and dumb, giggling women - is hardly up there with The Colour of Justice, the play about the Stephen Lawrence inquiry that also used verbatim transcripts.
It is at its most interesting in its study of the mechanics of betrayal, as the unsympathetic Tripp - a monster masquerading as a mother figure - encourages airhead Lewinsky to spill the beans on her affair with the president, so that Tripp can get all the evidence down on tape. Why, asks Monica breathlessly, do I keep hearing double clicks on the phone line? Why, Bambi might well have wondered, do those men have guns? You don't have to spend too much time in Monica's company before the unsisterly thought occurs that some people seem to invite disaster upon themselves.
Using only verbatim dialogue taken from the taped conversations, Laura Strausfeld's production puts on the style, but never manages to persuade that by offering us Monica and Linda in several positions these characters are ever going to amount to more than bit players in their own minor tragedies.
· Until August 26. Box office: 0131-226 2428.
