IT begins with two piercing screams, setting the tone for Jackie Fielding's shrill performance as Mari, the mother from hell. Hell in this instance being a rundown northern house with the electricity on the blink and dampness seeping into the walls.

Her tarty clothes as loud as her never-shut mouth, Mari fills her life with dirt-cheap vodka and dirty, dodgy men, neglecting her daughter to the point where Little Voice is reduced to agoraphobic silence.

Behind a curtain of hair, Little Voice (Jade Williams) hides away in her bedroom, listening to the old records that nourish her only link with the late father she so misses. Damaged and timid, this broken nightingale seeks refuge in impersonating the voices, mannerisms and movie lines of 20th century divas Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland and Edith Piaf. This is her voice, her solace, her escape, but the world around her will consume her.

Ray Say (James Hirst), louche talent agent and purveyor of bull, is in the last chance saloon, having his cynical fill of Mari but seeing a golden ticket to ride in Little Voice's extraordinary gift for mimicry. He entices the quivering bird from her cage to the lowest of low clubland joints, run by Mr Boo (Tony Mooney), a man with jokes as funny as sciatica.

Jade Williams gives a remarkable performance at 22, heartbreaking, tragic, almost too upsetting to watch. When Little Voice at last breaks free, finding tentative love in the arms of fellow quiet soul Billy (a sweet David Judge), it is a northern fairytale finale to gladden the heart, and Williams deserved a far longer ovation at Thursday's performance.

The production's problems lie elsewhere. Jim Cartwright writes in the heightened manner of Greek drama, his language rich with imagery and arcane words - "I beseech you, I beseech you," says Mari to Little Voice, as she surveys the wreckage of her charred life - and it should be played in the Shameless manner, not as lightweight, superficial sitcom.

Unfortunately, Fielding is too close to farce, particularly in a drunken ironing scene that sacrifices grim drama for pratfall laughs. This is a misjudgement by guest director Asha Kahlon, the first beneficiary of Harrogate Theatre's new academy for nurturing talent. Far better in her handling of tragedy than comedy, she is yet to find her own voice.

The Rise And Fall Of Little Voice, Harrogate Theatre, until November 4. Box office: 01423 502116.