Sweet Beef Theatre’s Crying Shame is a cabaret founded in loneliness which scatters sketches, songs and lip-synching across themes of alienation, attempted recovery and the often-lazy solutions offered for mental ill-health. Rowdy rather than reflective, the ensemble presents their impressive dance, singing and comedic skills in a sequence of scenes which meander around the topics. The queer dramaturgy: that is, a structure which interrupts itself, refuses resolution and eschews slickness while celebrating individual sexual and gender identities, is both the point and the problem with the production. It lumbers through the skits, deliberately avoiding the obvious but not quite managing to evolve the cabaret format into an incisive examination of loneliness. Rarely witty but frequently funny, Crying Shame is a boisterous hour that baulks at pressing home its melancholy, loitering rather than focusing.

The cast do capture the energy of the later night Fringe atmosphere, winding up the crowd and throwing in, early in the production, a couple of show-stopping routines. More sensitive moments tend to dissolve into the riotous routines and while the overall impact is unsettling and unsatisfactory, Crying Shame has the appeal of a young company exploring avenues and gradually finding their collective performance identity. 

Crying Shame, Pleasance Dome, until 25 Aug, 9.30pm; main picture: Fotómetro.