As shocking as it seems in the 21st century global village, marriage between races is still illegal in some countries.

Athol Fugard's apartheid-era play that forms part of Assembly's South African season may date from 1972, but its depiction of state control of the most intimate acts remains timely, and could apply as much to the recent outcry regarding same-sex marriages as the situation Fugard depicts.

A white woman lies naked in bed with a black man, sharing private moments that go beyond sex. If it weren't for the shadowy figure sitting in a wheelchair in the corner, this could be scene from some multi-cultural Eden. As it is, such a liaison is a risk to both their lives.

While even the idea of an immorality act sounds like something from a dystopian fiction, the full horror of such an invasion of human liberty never quite hits home in Kim Kerfoot's production for the Theatre Arts Admin Collective. While a show lit solely by torches that double up as intrusive camera flashes is an intense experience, and the exchanges between Bo Petersen and Malefane Mosuhli as the lovers remain impassioned, it never quite transcends the play's specific backdrop to have the electric charge required. Ends August 27

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Having it large on a Friday night is all a boy and girl making their way in the world can hope for in Luke Barnes's new play, which forms part of the Underbelly's Old Vic New Voices strand. Over a very big weekend, the pair start off on very separate back-street booze cruises, but end up on a grotesque collision course that may or may not have been a good night, but will end up as more pub banter material anyway.

The story is told via a relentless pair of criss-crossing monologues, with Barnes's thrill-seekers grabbing microphones in Cheryl Gallacher's production for the young Scrawl company. This makes for a mile-a-minute grab-bag of stand-up theatre that maps out a no-hope generation's last-gasp letting off of steam in lieu of anything resembling hope or aspiration.

Young people may have been doing this for years, but there's a motor-mouthed verve in Barnes's tumble of words, especially as delivered here with such confident swagger by Cary Crankson and Ria Zmitrowicz.

With a traffic cone-strewn shopping trolley doubling up as flash limousines and dodgy mini-cabs, Barnes is suggesting it's okay to be young and foolish, but, judging by the ease with which the pair move on the morning after, happiness is very much elsewhere.

Ends August 26

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War, in this play by Cat Jones, is just one big old pub fight. Or so says Ray, the ex-squaddie on the run from a prison sentence and seeking refuge in his spit-and-sawdust Doncaster local. Here his estranged wife Carla, barman Simon and rookie barmaid Leanne attempt to pacify Ray, the embodiment of disenfranchised working-class machismo, who has effectively been failed by the system that he serves.

Developed with ex-servicemen prisoners by Second Shot Productions, Jones's play – another in the Underbelly's Old Vic New Voices season – gives voice to a largely misunderstood underclass in a production of considerable power overseen by director Elle While. The quartet of performances are thoroughly believable, despite some over-writing. Only the ending undermines everything that comes before, with a sentimental quasi-reconciliation that turns things into melodrama with a fudge too far.

Ends August 26

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Patriots and nationalists from all countries take note. Gold medals may have abounded for Team GB at London 2012, but as the inventive About Milk company make clear, heroes will always let you down. St George himself is revealed as a mixed-up kid forced by society to be a tough guy.

Here, a quartet of waxed-moustache sporting gentlemen and a solitary lady toughen up young George with excursions into morris dancing, heavy drinking and bare-chested flag-waving, all to kill a dragon.

But what if, like weapons of mass destruction, the Islamist threat to freedom and a thousand and one other red herrings, the dragon doesn't exist? Pride clearly comes before a fall in this playful dissection of male grooming involving songs, bicycles and make-believe Chariots of Fire style triumphalism.

Beyond such fripperies, there is a serious point to director Lucy Skilbeck and About Milk's inventive take on historical myths, which looks to the reasons why there are more male suicides being recorded in the UK than ever before.

The sucker punch of such a playfully well-honed delivery gives much food for thought in a piece of work that itself puts the boot into the man's world it occupies.

Ends August 26

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