Terracotta is the colour of earth, the colour of human shit, perhaps the colour of life itself. It is the colour that Nicola decides to paint part of her flat at the close of Jess Walters's new play, a beadily observed three-hander about growing up and breaking away and the damaging legacy of abuse.
Walters has little new to say on the latter subject, and the absurdity of the suddenly conjured happy ending undercuts the power of a play that for the most part is written with a good ear for the emotional eloquence of the coarsest vernacular. The play also has a curious structure: for a long time the sun-bathing Nicola is the sole presence on the roof and her dialogue is conducted through a skylight with the off-stage Ian, her cousin, who is supposed to be painting her flat. This feels like a play-writing exercise rather than a play. It is only 90 minutes long, but even so it sprawls.
In its favour, the piece plays cleverly with its potentially dangerous rooftop setting. It also has a vigorous comedy as it charts the strange, growing relationship between unhappy, damaged Nicola - who injures herself further with sunburn and cutting her flesh - and podgy poet Ian, who thinks he lost his virginity to a frozen chicken but in fact had it stolen from him aged eight on a visit to his cousin's house.
It is the acting that really carries the play, in particular Kellie Bright, who gives a revealing, near-naked performance in more ways than one. As she emerges from the darkness of her fear, a glorious, scrawny, teenage Aphrodite smothered in yoghurt, she convinces you that against all odds, Nicola may indeed have found her place in the sun.
At Birmingham Rep (box office: 0121-236 4455) from Wednesday till March 25.
