Antigone is one of the great plays about the futility of war, and it should sing to us at the moment. The fact that it doesn't here suggests that there is a lot wrong with Liz Lochhead's new version and Theatre Babel's production.
The idea of weaving Sophocles's Oedipus Rex and a variety of other sources into a single play to tell the story of the house of Laius is an excellent one, offering the potential for a family tragedy with an epic sweep.
But the team behind the wonderful Medea appear to be just going through the motions. Graham McLaren's production is so static, it looks as if the cast had been glued to the stage.
Things seem promising as Peter Collins's Oedipus contributes to his own downfall by promising to rid the city of the plague. But, with a few exceptions - Jokasta talking of the forcible removal of her baby: "I wept tears and milk" - the writing is uninspired. Even Jokasta's great anti-war speech lacks passion and fire.
The space is totally unsympathetic and encourages declamatory performances. And using photographs, including one of Saddam, is a mere nod to contemporary relevance. The dead do not speak to us, they are just dusty.
· Until August 24. Box office: 0131-226 2428.
