Before Sam Shepard’s 1970s admonishment of the American Dream begins, we’re left in a voyeuristic state gazing upon a dilapidated home. It’s here the emblematic zest of the play begins to seep in. Resting in the crooked attic sleeps the past of a family in crisis: a pram, books, and then the packed away patriotism we can all relate to: a dusty American flag, folded neatly and abandoned. As the play begins we realise it’s the “curse” of inheritance that traps them, something sadly familiar now as students graduate into a world ecologically and economically screwed.

The action takes place in the Californian home of the Tate’s, our typical dysfunctional family. Mum Ella (Carla Mendonça) is the frustrated housewife to Weston (Christopher Fairbank), the absentee, alcoholic father who occasionally arrives to deposit artichokes into an empty fridge. Then there’re the kids: young, rambunctious Emma (Alice Haig) and the brooding Wesley (Christopher Brandon). Both parents have aspirations to move away and independently from one another they sell the house to different buyers resulting in adultery, confusion and ultimately going nowhere.

A familiar tale for us Brits as we abuse our bankers but can’t seem to get rid of them.

Curse is an enigmatic play but director Mark Thomson admirably makes sense of the sporadic monologues and metaphor laced, languid language which make it much more than a family portrait. Sadly, Brandon failed to grasp the natural fluidity of the words and far from capturing the Brando brand of brood, his frozen gait and internal angst came across as constipation rather than contemplation. But where the script and it’s countless meanings come to fruition is when Fairbank totters onto the stage, trousers undone and a bunch of laundry for Ella to do, it’s through his gravelly voice we begin to understand the wider concepts this play deals with. The most common of which is urbanisation and of course our inevitable denial of the self, and rightly, all these wise warnings are given to us through animal allegories: an eagle that catches a cat becomes entangled with its prey and neither can let go. A familiar tale for us Brits as we abuse our bankers but can’t seem to get rid of them. Georgia McGuinness’ set captures the mood impeccably, especially with the working stove that sends a dank haze across the auditorium, as we inhale the dark atmosphere, Emma’s words echo: we transform “to atoms. To tiny little swimming things making up their minds without us. Plotting in the wombs.” Whilst breathing in the recycled air the irritating truth becomes clear: just like our predecessors, we will find new and glorious ways to trap the next generation. It’s not an excuse Shepard offers, merely an informed observation.

http://www.lyceum.org.uk/webpages/show_info.php?id=1041

Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh, until Sat 11 Apr,