Catalyst theatre company enchanted fringe audiences two years ago with its mysterious, beautiful production The House of Pootsie Plunkett. On the main stage of the Traverse, however, the company's brand of stylised, fairy-tale theatre looks horribly exposed. Partly this is the fault of the design: Bretta Gerecke has hung white sheets from the ceiling, behind which characters in cutesy, 1950s-inspired outfits and elaborate headdresses flit and dance, whisper and roar. The aim is an atmosphere of dreamy strangeness; the result is self-consciously arty and irritatingly fey.
The same is true of Jonathan Christenson and Joey Tremblay's text. Its adolescent musings on chaos theory, social responsibility, disappointment and desire are tooth-achingly saccharine and entirely without substance. The idea that the movements of a butterfly can trigger catastrophic climate changes is detailed in a tone of wide-eyed wonder that would leave children feeling patronised. The characters - a man with one shoe, a girl who sells paper butterflies, an orphan with ambition - are painted in diluted watercolour; they are barely there.
Christenson drenches his production in icing sugar, while the actors perform in a fever of naivety, gazing at each other as though awed by their very presence on the stage. The only remarkable thing about this piece, however, is its appearance in a theatre renowned for its stringent quality control and impeccable taste.
· Until Saturday. Box office: 0131-228 1404.
