Ella Hickson’s debut play Eight was a state-of-the-nation piece, which used a series of witty, spicy monologues to explore a range of today’s twenty-somethings who, according to Hickson, have nothing to fight for and little to believe in. Her new Edinburgh effort, Precious Little Talent, takes one such lost soul – the jobless and fairly joyless English lass Joey – and plonks her in central Manhattan, a place where the Broadway lights and beaming citizens radiate optimism. What follows is a slight but entertaining love story, which pitches Joey’s cynicism against New Yorker Sam’s puppy-dog enthusiasm, and lets us watch as the two struggle to meet somewhere in between.

Hickson’s talent for voicing young adults is undeniable: it is what made Eight such a self-assured debut and is also why her Old Vic 24-Hour Play – a keenly observed sketch about a fledgling teenage relationship – was the night’s runaway success. She has stuck to similar terrain here and the dialogue between Joey and Sam is as tight, rhythmic and entertaining as we have come to expect. It isn’t a particularly revolutionary scenario, but there is a lack of pretension and authenticity to Hickson’s writing – a willingness to record life and let it speak for itself – that makes it a refreshing pleasure to watch.

There is also a nice theatricality to this show, which raises it above its ever so slightly formulaic plot. Hickson displays an encouraging willingness to experiment with form and uses a range of neat tricks to explore Joey (Emma Hiddleston) and Sam’s burgeoning relationship. One such trick is her double description of their first encounter, which Hickson uses to emphasise these characters’ clashing sensibilities. For the slightly younger Sam (a charming and unaffected performance from Simon Ginty) the encounter unfurls like a fairytale, with Beethoven’s moonlight sonata swelling up, as if from nowhere, to serenade these two star-kissed lovers. The story from Joey’s perspective is a much more practical affair – it turns out the impromptu sonata was actually the result of a hidden iPod – and her cynical observations bring Sam’s romantic embellishments crashing down to earth.

The only weak link is John McColl as Joey’s father George, who seems slightly too heavy for this show. It isn’t really his fault – whilst the younger characters speak for themselves, father George seems to be speaking for the play and its themes. His scenes are laden with symbolism and have been inserted to lend this play a stature I’m not so sure it needs. McColl drags himself around the stage and sinks deep into his script and seems unsuitably mannered for this predominantly light-hearted affair.

As was the case with Hickson’s play Eight, it is when she doesn’t push for profundity that she taps into some truths. There isn’t enough time for Hickson to develop her weightier ideas here so, when she steps outside the realm of teenage romance, the play starts to feel a bit clunky. It’ll be good to see her first full-length effort, which will hopefully allow her to stretch out her ideas – not simply squeeze them into nicely conceived but slightly see-through scenarios – and elevate her work to the next level, from smart and funny observational skits that glisten with sparky prose, into something slightly more sustained and substantial.

Various times till 29 August 2009