Desperate situations in Israel, Palestine and Iraq have, ironically, generated fruitful dramatic expeditions into these countries in recent years. Sadly, The Fever Chart is not destined to join this admirable list of works, not least for the fact that it shifts oddly into Iraq just when we feel that American playwright Naomi Wallace might be on the brink of saying something illuminating about Israel/Palestine.

The three short pieces — two three-handers and one monologue — appear to have been rather opportunistically bundled together. Originally presented between 2003 and 2006, they also suffer from their lack of up-to-the-minute topicality, without covering events far enough in the past to benefit from some reflective hindsight. The themes that link them tend to the expandably nebulous: occupation, oppression and, more specifically, pigeons.

The playlets, unshowily directed by Katie Posner and Marcus Romer, are described in the programme as surreal visions, and we soon find ourselves hoping that we’ll pass from this 90-minute Fever into more peaceful sleep. It’s not a promising sign that such a tiny studio space had ample empty seats even on press night.

Vision One, A State of Innocence, is the most disagreeably peculiar, as an Israeli soldier, a Palestinian mother and a mysterious Russian Jew gather in a deserted zoo in Gaza. It’s no help that the three actors — Lisa Caruccio Came, Sidney Kean and Daniel Rabin — are cast awkwardly out of their logical age ranges here. There’s grief aplenty but it’s hard to care.

Between This Breath and You is more promising, even if stricken with an excess of Wallace’s intense and wearying dialogue. “I won’t have the opportunity to ravish this cold world the way I’d like to”, says Israeli nurse Tanya (a nicely emphatic turn from Caruccio Came), as she discovers an unlikely bond with Palestinian Mourid (Kean) in a West Jerusalem clinic. Rabin has to content himself with a ridiculously redundant role, as the sort of hyper-eloquent caretaker only to be found in works of fiction.

Finally it’s off to the aftermath of the first Gulf war, as an engaging Iraqi pigeon fancier (Rabin) uses the demise of his beloved birds to deliver an account of a country stripped of both dignity and basic human essentials by punitive UN sanctions. It’s fine as far as it goes but frustratingly unlinked to what has preceded it. It’s a strained ending to an effortful evening.
Until 3 April. Information: 0844 871 7632. www.ambassadortickets.com/trafalgarstudios