The first play of the Dublin trilogy that also comprises the better known Juno and the Paycock and The Plough and the Stars, Sean O'Casey's tragic comedy of poetry and politics was a sketch for the more fully fledged dramas to come. That is not to say that this comic catastrophe isn't a minor masterpiece in its own way as it combines lyricism with humour, the swank of the Dublin dialect with impending tragedy and the wraith of guilt that wraps itself around you and haunts you for the rest of your life.
Set in a large mouldering house in 1920, during the last phase of the Anglo-Irish war that led to the 1921 peace settlement, tinker Seumas Shields has sublet his crumbling bedsit to poet Donal Davoren. Gossip among the pair's many noisy and colourful neighbours, who also make their homes in the once majestic rooms, quickly solidifies into myth with Davoren cast as a Republican gunman on the run. Pretty Minnie Powell is particularly attracted to the romantic idea of a love affair with a wanted man, and Davoren does nothing to dissuade her from the notion.
In a sense, the crumbling house (wonderfully realised in Michael Taylor's design) is Ireland itself and the inhabitants a cross-section of the dreamers, hotheads, fools and bigots who are helping to tear her apart as much as the vicious Black and Tans. O'Casey views his characters dispassionately but not unkindly; you sense that he hates their stupidity but loves their humanity. He gives them a grace even when they are at their most foolish.
Dominic Dromgoole's production is very good indeed recognising something rhythmic and elegant under the surface, and there are performances to write home about, particularly Aidan McArdle's discomforted Davoren, who finds his life turning from farce to tragedy, and Frank McCusker's blustering Shields.
· Until November 6. Box office: 020-7328 1000.
