Michael Frayn is a clever humourist, a master of the witty phrase, the extended satirical anecdote. These talents … ensured that at least I laughed a great deal throughout Clouds, Frayn's new play….

Clouds is set in Cuba—or at any rate an empty blue sky with beneath it just six chairs and a table. Into this void step Mara and Owen, two English writers come to report on life after the revolution. She … is a lady novelist of the Edna O'Brien type; he …, a jumpy, neurotic journalist…. Accompanying them on the tour of the country is Angel …, their slow-moving, slow-talking Cuban guide…. Also on the sightseeing tour is Ed …, an idealist academic from the wilds of Illinois, who, on visiting a new town site, manages to see future socialist worlds in piles of industrial sand. Finally there is Hilberto …, the party's happy-go-lucky, cigar-smoking driver. Is he the real Cuba?…

Clearly there are significant portents about human nature being suggested in all this. What do we really see when we try to report on things objectively? How do you tell 'illusion' from 'reality'? What is time and material progress?…

At the end of Clouds, the symbolic fivesome drive off into the Great Continuum. 'Pure light! Pure emptiness!' one exclaims. So many illusory stereotypes, so many real clichés, you can almost see through the seams in the characters.

Marcuse, Kolokowski—relax. As a 'thinker', Frayn is a minnow. He does little to strengthen Britain's second-rate philosopher squad. Nevertheless, Clouds is entertaining theatre….