The Lottery Ticket

International Bar

Absurd, inventive and allusive, Spacecraft's show is An BΘal Bocht for the new millennium, where a starving Irish family is only a shady deal away from a few bob and where million-pound jackpots are available twice weekly. Biting social satire? A bit. Roddy McDevitt (who writes, directs, acts, sings and plays bodhrβn) leads the cast through a hilarious, high-energy screaming session. This is kitchen-sink drama of sorts, except that the ill-fated HeeHaw family hasn't got one - just a television and a table-cum-Magimix. Their aspirations include a Dβil seat for Dad, a helicopter firm for No 1 Son and the status of Poet of National Reconciliation for Sonny. Their grab for glory, with the help of a lottery ticket, unfolds via an astonishing number of good jokes and silly ensemble routines. It nearly lost a star by going on for 90 minutes, but can hardly be faulted for embodying greed.

Harry Browne

Runs until Saturday

Knives In Hens

Players Theatre, Trinity College

An unnamed peasant village somewhere in Europe, a close-knit but suffocating community some time in the past, an unfaithful husband, his wife and her relationship with a reviled miller: these are the ingredients for Fβda Theatre Company's production of a 1995 play by the Scottish playwright David Harrower. The set is wonderful, the lighting and original music are fantastic, the performances by Cathleen Bradley, Brendan Laird and Chris Corrigan exude professionalism and Deirdre Molloy's direction is strong. Everything is here for a memorable theatrical experience - except a convincing text. With its short scenes reminiscent of Bⁿchner's Woyzeck and its society and rustic locale recalling Lorca's, you would expect Harrower's script to deliver. Although it is well staged, the misogynistic world fails to convince. The young woman at the centre of the play may win control of her world through the power of language and the act of naming, but her victory is communicated badly by a nebulous text that fails to explore the ethics and motivations of the actions it presents. In short, this is an accomplished staging of a weak play.

Ian Kilroy

Runs until October 6th

Deflowerfucked

SFX City Theatre

I expected to lose my innocence, if not something more substantial, by attending this play. Not that sex was the main thrust, but it made frequent appearances. Deflowerfucked consists of a stream of sketches performed on a long, perforated table-like stage, through which the actors bob up and down like pistons. The sketches reflect an adolescent mixture of sharp situational wit and stupidity taken very seriously, as though conceived during a drugged-out party. To pull this off, Joe Corbett, Derrick Devine, James Hosty and Emma McIvor had to have their bits polished, their timing perfectly synchronised, their movements painstakingly choreographed - and they did. They laughed, cried, spoke lines at breakneck speed, played instruments, danced, feigned sex, screamed, cooked, vomited. Impressive. Apart from the fact that it ended on an incongruously sinister note, Deflowerfucked was great fun.

Christine Madden

Runs until Saturday

Trainspotting

Project Cube

Unlike the film of Irvine Welsh's 1994 novel, which went some way to promoting heroin chic, Harry Gibson's stage version is brutally realistic, down to the ritualistic details of preparing needles and smack for a seemingly endless round of hits. The Cube is stripped to its bare walls and floors, and we are led through the grim memories of Mark (Fergal McElherron) as he and his associates shoot up, scam off the dole, score the next hit, puke, shag, and die. Not very glamorous. Louise Drumm skilfully directs her strong cast - McElherron, Emma Lowe, Dermot Magennis and Peter Daly - through the episodic scenes of a life fuelled by addiction, despair and a dark sense of humour. While the story flags towards the end of its mad dash to begin all over again, the production is unashamedly honest, and without the distance that the filmic version allows. It achieves the kind of stark power only theatre can provide.

Susan Conley

Runs until Saturday