Ten or more years ago, Field Day offered Terry Singleton's facetious exploration of Oscar Wilde's relationships with himself, his mother and, rather more peripherally, other events and individuals and events which impinged on his life and his assertions. Wild Catz Productions have both resurrected and buried the text in their new production.

Set simply in a setting of black tabs and a few pieces of elegant furniture, Karen Brosnan's staging is, to say the least, understated. Her directorial view does not appear to have been based on any predetermined vision of the purpose of the work, nor on any analysis of the meaning or theatrical significance of the words in the text.

It meanders through the author's pastiche of Wildean language without any great clarity of enunciation or purpose, and there is a woeful uncertainty among many of the players which underlines their collective lack of professional thespian skills.

Mark Shinnick's Oscar is so effetely simpering that he presents the playwright as a mere smirking homosexual rather than as a would-be revolutionary aesthete or even, through his elegant writing, a social commentator. The cross-dressing in costumes that are best described as eccentric simply does not work, and the level of coarse acting evident, with exaggerated facial expressions and cramped, cliched and inexpressive gestures, does not give effect to the emotional distancing which the author's text needs, to give it its best theatrical effect.

Running nightly at 8.15 p.m. until January 22nd. To book phone 01- 6795720