It was going to take an exceptional play to outshine Simon Stephen’s Harper Regan and although Pornography contains some sharp and intricate scenes, it never reaches the clarity and power of his earlier piece. This is largely down to the structure, which sees the gentle but biting dialogue of Harper Regan replaced with a series of interlocking monologues.

Stephens writes best when his volatile characters spark off each other, so it’s no surprise his two-hander scenes work best here. By comparison the monologues frequently struggle to come to life, with Stephens’ delicate script faltering under the pressure. Crucially this feels like a play with something to say about the 7/7 bombings, which is a shame because the real power here is in the terrifying flashes of loneliness that Stephens teases out of his more convincing characters.

As we jump between the ensemble cast’s stories, a vague picture of the days surrounding 7/7 emerge. Stephens never looks directly at the bombing itself, and instead skirts carefully around its edges, picking up some forceful characters along the way. Though given little time on-stage, Sheila Reid dominates as a fiery but frightened ex-professor. After doggedly walking the deserted 7/7 London streets, Reid’s exhausted widow stumbles across a barbeque. Stephens is able to lend real magnitude to tiny moments and the kindness this old-lady encounters at a stranger’s doorstep creates a powerful and lasting impression.

The script is consistently colourful and there is real emotion to be found, as well as some feisty one-liners; ‘What is the point in buying aubergines when there are people in the world dressed like that?’ There are some detailed performances here, particularly from those alive to the subtlety of Stephens’ script. Reid stands out with a compact performance which manages to raise some easy laughs, whilst also drawing us into her character’s acute and endless loneliness.

The incestuous brother and sister work well too, even if their story does begin to feel a tad manipulative. There is a great moment before the brother and sister are about to have sex for the first time, when the suicide bomber’s monologue kicks into action. Frozen in time with this murderous man and this naked brother, the audience is trapped between two evils with no easy way out.

The play is slightly let down by its measured monologues, which miss that quiet realism that Stephens channelled so well in Harper Regan. Sean Holmes’ directing sometimes confuses matters, with numerous links drawn between essentially isolated characters. The best bits come when Holmes holds back and allows his persuasive visuals to do the talking: whilst Billy Seymour’s student delivers some icy monologues, he is most effective when trapped down-stage, slowly and consistently lighting matches. The silent, monotonous threat of this young boy’s actions cast an ominous shadow over the play’s second half.

The pressure builds as the bomber approaches his final destination, with the flickering stage-lights hinting at the imminent explosion. But although the pace and pressure is skilfully handled and the stage-craft carefully thought through, the scenes never really add up to much. Once the play is over, the backstage is flooded with a projection detailing the victims of the 7/7 bombings. It feels like a cheap way to end with a flourish and also suggests some doubt in the play’s ability to adequately express or explain the tragic events of three years ago.

Till 20 September 2008