Ten-year school reunions can be treacherous events. A woman returns home to attend hers, only to find her own secrets and her mother’s illness overshadow the petty atmosphere of competition and frustrated pasty desires. Glitch, a solo show that relies heavily on a dense script and the performer’s charisma, deals with social isolation, disappointing achievements and the unending anxiety of contemporary life. Edith Alibec’s script is dynamic and packed with the telling detail: bad sexual encounters, the lingering memories of religious hope, and the messiness of a bedroom all build towards a bleak commentary on how the minutiae of life can obscure both meaning and anguish.

It is only towards the finale that the core pain which drives the character is exposed; before that moment, a turgid listlessness and vague irritation at the world of work and adult life appear as symptoms of something undefined but horrific. Explicit and tough, the script touches on themes of rootlessness, ambition and the lingering effect of teenage desires and optimism. With no harmonious resolution, and a consistent return to the same moments and themes, Glitch itself can feel frustrating in itself, but its aimlessness is, at least dramaturgically, effective. In the small details, it exposes the horror of mundanity. 

Glitch, Assembly George Square, until 26 August, 1.15pm.