Taking as its inspiration all sorts of creation myths from Frankenstein to the Bible, David Rudkin's Red Sun stumbles into tentative life before fading and dying.
In a culture that bears more than a passing resemblance to the Aboriginal, a people are being "herded to their place of slavery" in some mysterious "transports".
The shaman Wana-Apu, tired of witnessing such oppression, creates a mystical figure from clay and dust, a being he hopes will serve as an avenging angel. Yet as we know from the copious source material, the road to disobedience and anarchy in such situations is never long.
Thus Wanu-Apu and Adamu soon become an allegory for the inevitable sullying of new creation, perhaps for original sin, but it is undeniably tough work sitting through an evening's worth of unmitigated allegory only to arrive at an all too predictable conclusion.
Because Adamu is a creature possessed of a giant's strength but only a baby's perceptive powers, he has to be taught even the most rudimentary skills such as how to feed and clothe himself. Rudkin raises a few smiles with his depiction of an ad hoc singing lesson, but Adamu's similarity to a toddler, with his incessant repetition of the same few words and phrases, renders the whole piece tediously childlike.
Iain Armstrong and Mick Jasper work stoically at the unforgiving text, with Jasper capturing Adamu's latent menace through a chillingly blank expression. Yet Geoff Bullen's simply staged production can bring forth nothing that lifts the piece from the level of the derivative.
Rudkin's earliest play, Afore Night Come, was revived to Olivier Awardwinning-acclaim at the Young Vic three years ago, but those hoping for repeat success will be gravely disappointed here. At best, Red Sun lulls its audience into the soporific state that Wanu-Apu's religion prizes so highly.
Until 4 April. Information: 020 8680 4060.
Red Sun
