The Rise and Fall of Little Voice

This touring production of Jim Cartwright's play - about a painfully shy singer who can imitate the stars - has been billed as an adult fairy tale of sorts.

It's certainly not kids' stuff - this may be a Visible Fictions co-production but it's for 15 and over thanks to the language and a surprising amount of bared flesh. It also isn't really sophisticated enough to qualify as a drama.

Sorting the characters into straightforward goodies and baddies is, however, problematic. Presumably we're not supposed to have much sympathy for merry widow Mari (Wendy Seager), who'd rather be out on the pull than trying to coax her grieving daughter Little Voice out of her bedroom. Equally, talent manager Ray Say (Stewart Porter) ultimately amounts to a ruthless shark with a calculator where his heart should be.

The difficulty is that while this pair wear their hearts on their sleeves (having had years to cultivate their desperation), heroine Little Voice (Denise Hoey) remains a frustrating enigma. Presumably grief counselling would have been more effective than coaxing her out of the house to perform in public, but it's difficult to understand why, after eventually delivering a show-stopping turn, she refuses to repeat it.

Hoey's singing is very impressive when she gets behind the mic for her big moment. The part - originally written for Jane Horrocks, who went on to star in the film ' doesn't just require a great singer; the actress must also imitate the diverse likes of Bassey, Garland and Monroe, and Hoey delivers in disarmingly effortless style.

Sadly, the excellence of this medley serves to highlight how lacklustre the rest of the production feels. The cast clomp around Becky Minto's angled set, reiterating the blinkered agendas of their respective characters, until things come to a head and LV's similarly shy admirer Billy (Scott Garnham) shows up to save the day.

Clever use of sound effects and an on-stage narrator are stylish touches, but the dimensions of the set force the actors to regularly walk through mimed tables and doors, and the use of canned applause in the nightclub scenes also serves to disconnect the live audience.

Ultimately, though, it's difficult to see what director Douglas Irvine could have done to make this linear, predictable tale worthy of the vocal talents that it demands of its lead actress.