BONES is the story of a white South African woman whose husband is dying in front of her.

"Can you imagine sitting opposite each other for 37 years, letting the wireless fill the silence?" she asks. Bones is also the story of a young, black maid, who claims to have healing powers and leverages them for healthy financial gain. "I charge more for the soul, " she says, as she extracts a fortune from her 'mistress' in a bid to save the mistress's husband.

It is also the story of a young black man, beaten and then burned to death by police, and cast in a shallow grave, and of others who 'disappeared' in the Apartheid state, and of others still, 'the ancestors' buried in what is now developed land, who seek reburial amongst their people. "Help me, cut me down, " the young man whimpers, periodically, while the ancestors sing the songs of their people, the Xhosa.

There are moments in each of these stories that ring with truth: moments that convey the impression that British playwright Kay Adshead has confronted the violence and wonder of the South African transformation and has felt these in her bones. There are moments of wry humour.

There is glorious, magnificent music that creates a world in the austere Sam Beckett theatre, a world which has been governed by a very different and cruel rule of law, but which is also governed by different rules of community, culture and inheritance. These are tremendous achievements for a playwright who is not South African, and for Dublin theatre company Calypso.

But these remain moments, and this theatrical experience is also marked by crude plotting, mawkish writing and heavy-handed direction. Kay Adshead's attempt to tell these three tales in one is badly contrived. She exploits the shock value of an extreme case of Apartheid violence in the service of an unlikely tale of repentance. Bairbre Ni Chaoimh ably exploits the script's potential for striking tableaux, beautifully lit by Nick Anton, and, most notably, for music: led by the sublime Solomon Ijigade, the chorus, all of whom are African, are magnetic.

But Ni Chaoimh brings a heavy touch to a script already marred by a tendency to overt conflict and declamation. The two lead characters are so firmly established so early in the play that there is no visible development; emotions are heightened so early that the denouement is an anti-climax. This despite a strong performance by Susan Fitzgerald and a striking one by British actress Evelyn Duah.

Bones is a long way from completeness as a play.

But it hints at greatness . . . perhaps simply because the author was bold enough to tackle one of the great stories.

Bones is at the Samuel Beckett Theatre, Trinity College Dublin until 8 September. Tickets /20//15//12.

Bookings: 01 8721122