The Steamie

Having recently celebrated its 21st anniversary, Tony Roper's quintessentially Glaswegian play is once more brought to the stage in this unexpectedly vibrant production.

It's Hogmanay 1953 and the washing's piling up. Four working-class women slave through the night, gossiping about life, their dreams, and the excellent quality mince from Galloway's butcher.

Dreicht the wash-houses of the 50s may have been, but the sweeping scale of Kenny Miller's industrial backdrop evokes the majesty and grandeur of a city brimming with opportunity, and somewhere, nestled in the skyline, a new life awaits – a life Dolly, Doreen, Magrit and Mrs Culfeathers covet. It’s this yearning for social betterment that so intricately paints the play as an accurate depiction of social history. Alison Peebles's new production makes this clear from the start by reinstating David Anderson's original political songs. Although his cutting lyrics ensure the television adaptation is distanced from the mind, it feels like a setback: the actors were clearly cast on strength of acting rather than strength of voice.

Dialogue ranges from the mad to the moving, with every line fired in true broad Glaswegian. It may confuse newcomers to the dialect, but the still-relevant content of the play ensures that they will not feel alienated. Peebles adds small, affectionate details, like the soap bubbles that gently descend before the curtain-fall. The acting is assured throughout, with Jacqueline Hughes in particular shining as naïve newlywed Doreen. The frequent danger, inherent in any comedy, of characters becoming caricatures is smartly avoided and by the end you cannot help but feel enormous warmth for all of them. When the bells toll there is the poignant knowledge that life will gradually improve for the quartet. And, after the few hours spent in their joyful company, you come to realise that there are few so deserving.