ABOUT three-quarters way through The Censor, which recounts the brief encounter between a pornographic film maker and the man with the licensing scissors, the young man next to me gasped: "Oh no, she's just ****."

Then he giggled. A doctor would tell you that's a typical response to shock. And shock is about the most appropriate way to describe most of the audience's reaction to a scene which included defecation as a sexual fantasy.

If this was for real - and it looked real - the actress responsible must have amazing control of her bowels.

But this isn't the only shocking and controversial scene in this play, which attempts to explore the relationship between artist and critic, love and sex.

Although there is no nudity, and the bad language is limited, there are some graphic sexual scenes. These are made the more disturbing by the accompanying verbal description, delivered in cold clinical detail by the maker of the porn movies, Miss Fontaine, played with studied detachment and exquisite arrogance by the superb actress, Sarah Parker.

The storyline follows the growing relationship between Miss Fontaine and the man who wields the scissors, the film censor, as she attempts to get him to reassess the film.

He wants to throw it out as hard porn; she wants a classification so that it can be seen by a wider audience. What he sees as titillation, she says is a crucial event in the evolution of the world.

Their relationship is further complicated by The Censor's wife, who continually humiliates him with a succession of blatant infidelities.

Exactly what message this play, which does have the odd light moment, is trying to put over, I really don't know. There seems to be several messages - most of them depressing.

Miss Fontaine extols the benefits of freedom from repression. "Perverts", she says, are victims of society, and in the future will be celebrated as "recognisable visionaries".

Perhaps this is writer Anthony Neilson's vision of the future. It that's the case it's rather frightening. But the finale of the play seems to suggest something far more conservative. A continuation of the status quo.

This is an all-round polished production from the award-winning, Manchester based Rocket Theatre Company.

There are excellent performances from all the cast. Paul Sullivan is remarkable as the repressed, unhappy and humiliated censor. A man who thinks little of himself and expects humiliation around every corner. And Susan Cormack makes the most of her part as his bored, uncaring wife.

This play is at times shocking, sometimes controversial but never less than intriguing. You continually wonder where the relationship between Miss Fontaine and The Censor is going.

Recommended for those who don't shun the controversial, are not easily shocked, and can see the artistic merit of performing a normal private physical function on stage. JENNIFER BRADBURY

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.