It's the reason they give for climbing a mountain: because it's there. The mountaineer's mantra is amusing because, in its simplicity, it stands as a metaphor for life; why do we do anything? Well, what else would we do?
Alan Wilkins's debut play is set up a mountain, but the characters he traps in a bothy in a torrential storm are engaged in various acts just as inexplicable as bagging the next Munro. There's the old man who's decided to rebury the bones of the leader of a religious sect 50 years after her death. There's the keen climber who insists on weighing himself down with a 4kg rock in his rucksack. And there's the woman who's spent five years secretly taking revenge on her husband for his infidelity.
None of them is at all sure what has driven them to such peculiar behaviour and all have even less to say when their inconsistencies are pointed out. The old man is not religious, the climber frequently gets taxis and the woman is destroying her marriage because of how much she loves her husband.
But just because they can't explain themselves, Wilkins argues, isn't to say their instincts aren't justified.
In its own naturalistic way, The Nest stares into the same existential abyss as Waiting for Godot. The isolation of the Scottish Highlands gives the characters pause to consider their place in the greater scheme of things; although, as one of them points out, the clarity of thought you get on a hillside doesn't count for much when you're back at work.
Like the play, Lorne Campbell's production is strong on slice-of-life atmosphere and has notable performances from Candida Benson as the troubled wife, Lewis Howden as the maverick climber and Finlay Welsh as the enigmatic old man. For Wilkins, it's an assured, thoughtful debut, if theatrically unspectacular. Why should you see it? Because it's there.
· Until May 2. Box office: 0131 228 1404. Then touring.
