Irma Grothuis's new play, a monologue of about 75 minutes, has some adult fun with its fairy-tale origins, but it cannot escape them. The seven dwarfs are unlovely little men, with Doc as a nasty chief and Dopey a sex-smitten, well, dope. But they do live in a house in a forest and bring up a white-skinned girl with a view to a royal marriage. Stark reality it's not.

The girl is a commoner, daughter of a woodcutter and an obsessive mother who literally gave her right arm to have a child. Now her child is a queen, believed by her subjects to be of royal origin, and pregnant with a son after 10 barren years of wedlock. For rather contrived reasons, she is bent on telling her people - the audience - the truth, and blow the consequences.

So we hear it all: her life as a child, the nocturnal romps with Dopey, the virtual seduction of the bachelor king, the less than happy decade of loveless rule with a fed-up husband. The queen's one satisfaction is that she had a destiny, and fulfilled it. Her subjects want an heir, and won't make waves.

Put so baldly, the work does not seem to be strong on substance, but in ways it represents a triumph of style over content. It is well written in a tongue-in-cheek vein, combining satirical wit with self-mockery.

Grothuis is fortunate in her actress, Sile Nic Chonaonaigh, who sets a challenging tone from the start. The monologue form is more difficult than is sometimes obvious, but she keeps the game in session, engaging the audience with charm and flair. It is an impressive performance, flowing with the writing to obscure the limitations of content.

Runs to September 15th; bookings at 1850-260027