I saw a lovely production of a play called Static at the Traverse on Thursday. Tale of a girl whose deaf boyfriend is killed in a car crash and her struggle to come to terms with his death. Tellingly, I haven't bothered to find out who wrote it.

It was brilliantly produced, I thought. Nice set - though Mr Grimes would beg to differ. Nice lights. Very intricate soundtrack that leapt about from genre to genre. Nice story idea. A couple of brilliant performances and lots of very heartfelt emotion. And some brilliant lyrical signing from the (deaf?) actor.

But the script was a funny little thing. The start of the play was bittily irritating. I spent the first fifteen minutes thinking I was going to hate it. Despite the fact that it featured that adorable little girl who has featured in something else I've seen recently though I can't dammit think of what it was. But she bless her had to leap from searing emotional angst to mundane calm in minutes which I thought was careless writing.

It got better and featured some lovely language and some better thought through scenes. But still peppered with oddly inappropriate cliches. Easy to blame the writer of course but I at least felt this lovely idea could have been better executed.

Joyce MacMillan - just discovered her blog which is quite exciting - suggests that the play itself is a little too trite. And memorably ends her review:

"the final impression is of a generation who now urgently need to get a life, and to get over the shock of discovering that they, too, are not immortal."