Sometimes in the theatre it is the way you tell the story that matters most. and sometimes it is just the story that is crucial. The latter is certainly the case with Jane Harrison's play, which tells the true stories of just a few of the many thousands of Aboriginal children who, in the century up until the early 1970s, were forcibly removed from their parents by Australian state welfare agencies.
Some were adopted by white families, but many grew up institutionalised in children's homes, where sexual and physical abuse was rife. Harrison's play, performed by an Aboriginal cast, brings these true and harrowing stories alive, cutting them one into another like a rough-and-ready patchwork quilt. It has already been seen at this address but it deserves its place here again, not just because these stories should be heard, but because this strange, ancient business of sitting in the dark that is called theatre is also a healing way to tell them.
This is an evening of theatre that is simple, direct and fierce. It is childlike but not childish. It is scrupulous about not manipulating its audience and yet I found myself watching its conclusion through tears. This is about as simple as it gets in terms of stagecraft and yet it has more power than a £1m West End blockbuster.
The cast of five each play a specific character - but also represent all the stolen children. A connection is forcibly made between the children they depict and the actors' lives, none of which have been untouched by a policy that tore families apart over successive generations. Many Aboriginal families are only now beginning to pick up the pieces and some were totally destroyed. At the end, the cast clutch their suitcases and stare out into the auditorium, as if looking for something that has been irrevocably lost and cannot be reclaimed.
Near the beginning of the last century, the then so-called protector of Aborigines declared that the policy of removing their children caused families no distress. "The mothers soon forget." They didn't, and Stolen is here to make sure that we don't either.
· Until December 1. Box office: 020-7328 1000.
