Suzanne Valadon, a native of Montmartre in the latter part of the 19th century, had a rich and bohemian life. She never knew her father and, at the age of 18, had a son who would never know his. Her illiterate mother did little to advance her in life; but advance she did, through her own efforts and talent.

Factory worker, fruit seller and circus girl; these were the faltering steps that led her to become an artist's model and, in time, a valued painter whose work now shows in the Museum of Modern Art in Paris. Degas was her mentor, and she refused to allow marriage to interfere with her art or with her many lovers.

This play, scripted by Miriam Gallagher, aspires to give its audiences a true sense of this remarkable woman. It does not succeed. The method is essentially that of narrative, with two actresses (Mia Gallagher and Caroline Moreau) reciting in turn details about their subject, with some relevant posing, movement and music to provide some colour.

The effect is bland, an inherently undramatic work that hardly conveys what must have been the raw realities behind such a story, and ends inconclusively. The actresses are clearly not without talent, but I am reminded of an old critique which seems to fit the bill; they've got the snaffle and the bit all right, but where's the bloody horse?