The Lounge, nestled beneath the foyer of the Leicester Square Theatre, is a remarkably appropriate place to stage a production of The Waiting Room. Thanks to the dimly lit interior and the rows of chairs in close proximity to both the actors and each other, the stage becomes the entire lounge; the audience can themselves be part of the waiting room. Coupled with director Jenny Eastop’s use of staging (at one point Harriet, played by Beth Eyre, plays an invisible game of noughts and crosses above the audience’s heads), there is a pervading sense of proximity in this rather enclosed atmosphere. I was reminded of that claustrophobic feeling we get sometimes in confined, silent spaces with strangers – a feeling which writer John Bowen skilfully expands and explores with the set-up of this play.

Strangers Harriet (Eyre), a well-off and well-to-do woman, and Paul (Mark Rush), an art school dropout-cum-sales buyer, are shown to the same waiting room by the emotionally-devoid, “robotic” man (Paul Valentine), whose exact occupation can only be guessed at until the end. The dialogue between them becomes an interesting study into human interaction when it is unplanned, unexpected and takes place in a space where both time and society seem to be suspended. There are no social rules or etiquette that can dictate how to conduct yourself or a conversation in this waiting room; this is made clear in the unhindered, humorous yet inevitably awkward progression of dialogue that unfurls between the two characters.

Eyre and Rush play starkly opposite characters, and their particular quirks and characterisations throw light on those of the other. Such is the structure of the play that as they reveal more of their characters to each other, they also reveal more to the audience, and the piece is driven by a high level of acting as their stories unfold and a possible connection is unearthed between them.

The climax of the play, which has a total running time of only 40 minutes, rests on the revelation of what, exactly, they are waiting for: the moment that provides the piece’s power and punch (and separates The Waiting Room from Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, although there seem to be allusions to it in the lulls of a seemingly meaningless conversation, or the “it passes the time” reference). Yet while the prevailing messages of reconciliation and unity are clearly transmitted at the end through a simple tableau of hand-in-hand, the ending’s predictability renders the messages slightly obvious and not hard-hitting enough to be lasting.

The Waiting Room played at the Leicester Square Theatre until 21 January. For more information see the Leicester Square theatre website.