At least the title of this experimental new work is accurate. David Rosenberg’s voyeuristic production does climax with a brief spate of cartoonish violence perpetrated against a man in his underpants. What is harder to locate is a deeper underlying purpose to the piece, let alone the simpler engagement that arises out of being involved in an evening’s entertainment.

Rosenberg is a founding member of Shunt, a consistently clever theatrical collective that specialises in “interactive multisensory performances that strive to place the audience at the centre of the theatrical experience”. So it makes sense that Rosenberg is halfway through a two-year fellowship to research techniques that “facilitate participation and methods of empowering the audience”.

Sadly, this audience member did not feel especially empowered by his efforts at the Lyric. Well before the end of the hour-plus performance I was impatient to be set free.

The set-up is wonderfully novel, in the manner of Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Armed with binoculars and headphones (and rain gear if necessary), spectators occupy tiered seating outside on the terrace. Guided by a gracious but dodgy host (Simon Kane), our gaze is directed to two office buildings across the square. Up on the left, behind a wall of glass, sits a man (Nigel Barrett) typing a resignation letter on his computer. We know this because we hear the tape he is transcribing.

In another, smaller office below and to the right, a dark-haired woman (Hannah Ringham), in neck brace and polka-dot dress, is blowing up balloons. He is our hero, she a killer. Shuttling between the two is another, loquacious male named Kim (Neil Edmond).

As we spy and eavesdrop on the protagonists of this live-action radio play, our job is to piece together a mock drama that features obscene and threatening calls, an odd computerised slide show, a passionate snog and a ridiculously vicious homicide. In an absurdist touch typical of Rosenberg, a couple of oversized stuffed penguins make cameo appearances.

This interwoven parody of Hitchcockian thrillers and office politics is plain silly and, worse, pretty dull. Full marks to Max and Ben Ringham’s sophisticated sound design. But even there I harbour reservations. Rosenberg hopes that the use of headphones will “transport the audience into the rooms and into the heads of the protagonists”. We hear not only what is audible to them, but also supposedly what is happening in their bodies: an accelerated heartbeat, say. Nice idea. Pity that it fails to amount to much. Box office: 0870 0500511, to May 10

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