Eigengrau

They forge and end their relationships on the internet, their belief systems are hopelessly confused and they're crap at communicating: thefour young Londoners in Penelope Skinner's smart, sour drama are engaged in the bruising process of discovering that, in the twenty-first century, growing up can be very hard to do.

Cassie is a feminist activist whose principles are undercut by an appetite for rough sex. Her flaky flatmate, Rose, whom Cassie 'got off Gumtree', puts her faith in mystical New Age nonsense and convinces herself that a man who treats her like dirt deep down does, in fact, adore her. Marketing professional Mark, the manipulative object of Rose's obsession, 'unfriends' her on Facebook before attempting to get into Cassie's knickers, and measures people's worth according to what they earn. And his friend, Tim, adrift after the death of his beloved nan, is desperate for someone to love and to love him. Put them all together and the inevitable outcome is a matrix of pain, mixed messages, humiliation and crushing disappointment.

Polly Findlay's production is agonisingly funny, and sometimes just plain agonising - a scene in which Rose, played with toe-curlingly myopic neediness by Sinead Matthews, gets on her knees to give Geoffrey Streatfeild's contemptuous Mark a protracted blowjob is savagely cruel. But there are potentially fascinating thematic threads that turn out not to lead anywhere much: it's a great shame that Cassie's compromised feminism isn't further explored. And the play declines into heavy-handed symbolism and narrative improbability in its later scenes. Still, the performances are cracking all round, and Skinner's writing conjures a sense of being lost, lonely and perplexed in the the midst of hectic urban life - her title refers to the grey our eye sees in darkness - that carries a quietly potent modern misery.