Appetite for Beckett

A gaunt man in two overcoats, with a steady gaze and the sparsest of gestures, holds our rapt attention as he gives an erratic account of his attempts to get to see his mother. It's Samuel Beckett's Molloy, of course, the first in his trilogy of novels, which presents a man without occupation or fixed abode, who has difficulty remembering his own name, but insists on linguistic precision and relishes semantic nuances. (International Bar, Suffolk St, 6 p.m., until Saturday.) The adaptation of the novel to a dramatic monologue by The Gare St Lazare Players (see Festival Diary) is skilful and seamless; Conor Lovett's performance of Beckett's enduring text - in turns witty, dry, cerebral, earthy - is delicate and disciplined. Twelve years ago at the Dublin Theatre Festival we were treated to the debut of I'll Go On, Barry McGovern's performance of the adapted trilogy; here is another masterly interpreter of Beckett, his light Cork cadences introducing a different tone from the gravelly Dublin drawl of McGovern and before him, Jack McGowran, but who, like them, sends us hungrily back to the novels.

From minimalism to excess: Smashing Times's production of Somewhere Over The Balcony by Marie Jones (Bewleys, 8.15 p.m., until Saturday) badly needs a restraining hand. Set on the balcony of a flat complex in west Belfast, as three women form a raucous chorus to the day's events on an anniversary of internment, it shows, in a series of oneliners, the way their lives have absorbed and domesticated elements of the surreal.

Surrounded by British army helicopters and troops, and foreign photographers covering the Troubles, these women, without men, try to keep their families together. There is some sharp observation here, smothered in a blanket of overwriting and overacting, marred by uneven accents and two musical numbers which are, quite simply, a mistake.

Two more feisty young women present a series of comic sketches in Gee-Bags (Ha'penny Bridge Inn, 8.30 p.m., until Saturday). Writers and performers Maeve Coogan and Maeve Sweeney are fearless in selecting satirical targets and have a wide range of accents and modes. It's hit and miss and goes on too long: in particular, the "housewives against graffiti" sketch doesn't need a reprise. But they're a talented pair and a pared version of this show would do them more justice.

To soothe the brow of the flagging Fringe-er, Morag McLaren's late-night cabaret, I Never Do Anything Twice (Bewley's, 11.15 p.m, until Saturday) is highly recommended. A Scottish soprano with great dramatic presence, she brings us on a polished, witty tour from the back-stages of international opera houses, through musicals and farce. She can make her voice do anything - and does. Brava!.

The Fringe Festival Information number is 01-670 4567.