Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold. But Mike Hodges, who made one of the great British movies in Get Carter, gets his own back on egomaniac stars and craven producers with sadistic relish in his second play. As satire, it is vigorously enjoyable; it only loses me when it veers off into Gothic fantasy.

It starts promisingly in a five-star London hotel. Behind an impenetrable door protected by a private bodyguard lurks a big movie star. As an inquisitive porter, the movie's nervous producer and his waspish assistant gather in the corridor, we learn that the reclusive star is keeping 100 technicians waiting with his brattish petulance. Inside the room, the star plays voodoo drums and disports himself with a trio of whores. In the corridor, panic reigns as power passes to the bodyguard, who wants a slice of the movie action.

As long as Hodges sends up movie madness, the play is on the button. The star's greed and narcissism is seen as a form of self-loathing. The producer is a gutless trimmer ready to pander to his property's every whim. Even the bellboy gets in on the act by remarking, of screen shoot-ups, that "if they used live ammo, the acting would be a lot better".

Hodges does not merely bite the hand that feeds him but chews it into pieces. But realistic satire gives way to crazy fantasy in the character of the bodyguard. He moves from born-again Christian to Buddhist to medicine man, ending up a gun-toting control freak who seeks to take over the movie. But it is hard to see precisely what point Hodges is making. He may be suggesting that bodyguards come to identify dangerously with the stars they protect or that security men generally are weird aliens inhabiting human bodies. All one can say is that, as the bodyguard goes berserk, the play itself goes off the rails.

It is a pity, because it belongs to a valuable canon of anti-movie satire ranging from Once in a Lifetime to Stones in His Pockets. Hodges also gives it a highly polished production, boasting good performances from Bruce Purchase as the porter, Tom Hodgkins as the producer, Victoria Davar as his tart sidekick and Burn Gorman as the bodyguard.

The play works well as long as Hodges is settling old scores; it loses its way only when he takes us into the realm of pulp fiction.

Until June 16. Box office: 020-7837 7816. A version of this review appeared in later editions of yesterday's paper.