-
- guardian.co.uk,
- Thursday August 24 2000 00:00 BST
The American dream doesn't just die, it is blown to smithereens in this joyously dysfunctional account of corporate and family greed, set in an America where clowns and a talking wolverine hang around with dubious airline tycoons and even more doubtful compensation lawyers.
Taking place in the aftermath of a plane crash, which only the wolverine survives, Brian Parks's play takes the form of a series of snappy comic monologues or brief interchanges that throw a spotlight on the dark lives that are only bearable if you are shooting up, of people who are all out to make a fast-buck, for whom self-belief is the only religion.
Stylistically, it has the energetic buzz of theatre designed for an audience with the attention span of a flea. The snappiness of the production adds to the disorientating effect and the whole thing seems like a particularly sick episode of The Simpsons played at double speed. Spotlighting the great sickness that is the US has never been quite such fun, although the play - if that's what you can call it - doesn't shirk at finding the tragic in the freakish. God bless America, she really needs it.
Till Monday. Box office: 0131-226 2428.
