I have, no doubt that the production of Samuel Beckett's Happy Days, now at the Gate, is the best of the many I have seen. Tim Hatley's set, a hill of red clay against a cyclorama of blue sky with a hint of fleecy cloud, is attention-grabbing and emits, under Alan Burrett's lighting, a sense of claustrophobic heat. The eye is drawn to its centre where, buried to the waist, is Winnie.

So far, so promising, and the extra dimension soon makes itself felt. It is Rosaleen Linehan, who uses her special flair for comedy to project her physically static character into the audience's consciousness. She brings to her role immaculate timing, a versatile voiced and mobile features, all of which combine to fill her lines with the sense of an interpretation which is funny, meaningful and complete.

At the start of the second act, when she has sunk into the hill to her chin, one senses a change of mood. As she strains against the earth, which presages the next terrible stage, of her descent, a strain of anger and bitterness has entered her persona; but the fight must go on and life has to be savoured to the last. It is a wonderful performance, gripping and satisfying.

The relatively small role of Willie is a critical presence, parasitical and nostalgic, in this world of strange echoes. Barry McGovern fills it with brilliance - representatively male and demanding long after he has exhausted his claim on life. He is the perfect complement to Ms Linehan's unique heroine.

Karel Reisz directs the production, here for a very short run prior to its inclusion in the Gate's now-famous Beckett Festival, due in New York next July. For connoisseurs, those who aspire to that status and others who just want to enjoy themselves, it is fervently recommended.