Self-indulgent flights of fancy

So this revival at the Greenwich Playhouse was always going to be tricky. It opens in "An Airport," as some chalk writing on the wall and a bit of imagination on the audience's behalf tells us. A man is trying to catch his flight, but he is refused entry because of a bomb scare.

Is he a terrorist? Are the other delayed passengers whom he makes conversation with? Or are they all future victims?

Six scenes later, having been to a "A Bedroom," "An Office," "A Changing Room," "A Bench" and ending up finally on "A Plane," we are still none the wiser.

The glib answer, presumably, is that, in a broad sense, we are all terrorists and we are all victims. Maybe this was more apparent in 2003 or maybe the original production was better.

The second scene, in which a man ties his lover to a bed, is deeply unpleasant, not because it depicts S&M fantasies, but because it equates them with an apparent human drive for dominance and submission leading, by implication, to actual terrorism.

This really is as pretentious as it sounds. There are some moments of relief, albeit in the form of some pretty dark comedy, but these are sparse and, for the most part, poorly executed -though not as sparse and poorly executed as the moments of profundity or character insight.

When the hanging body of an office worker is found in a toilet, there is a glimmer of hope for some provocative drama. This is soon eclipsed by a shoddy half-arsed attempt at farce as the female office staff go a bit bitchy while their neurotic boss gets a bit angry.

The characters in the following scenes are equally rooted in flat-pack stereotypes, with an embittered, racist old woman and bullying state security officers offering nothing in the challenging social comment.

Though some of the accents are cringeworthy, it would be unfair to lay the blame at the door of the cast who, at times, show some real talent, as well as commendable stoicism. The fault of this production must therefore lie within the play itself and the director's incomprehensible vision.

I really tried to find the same thing that he must have seen in this play, if only because fringe theatre and contemporary writing need all the support that they can get. Sadly, this is the worst of both.

Dealing with the idea of terrorism in the abstract might have seemed revelatory a mere five years ago, but this production exposes the Presnyakovs' play to be a flight of fancy which is not only self-indulgent but perverse.

Some dramatic redemption rears its head in the final scene in the form of a morbid twist that brings together some of the earlier, disjointed strands. Like the pangs of guilt felt by the delayed passenger, though, it is too little too late.

Plays until July 20. Box office: (020) 8858-9256.

CIARAN BERMINGHAM