In tackling Boys from the Blackstuff, there are challenges in exploiting the dramatic tension of the piece and in ensuring its 1980s characters from Liverpool 8 are recognisable and relatable. And many of these challenges are met in this production. The opening scene uses theatrical anticipation to the full. Against a back projection of choppy waters, in front of which cranes hang at crazy angles with endless sheets of corrugated metal on the stage, the lights go up on five men at booths in a benefit office. The dehumanising fortnightly ritual of signing-on is underway.

Camaraderie and banter between the five are at the core of the show but so are their differences and fallouts. So too are the pressures that worklessness and cash-in-hand work bring to their domestic lives and health. Humour wrapped up in their banter works brilliantly, with laugh-out-loud moments all the way through. Angie, wife of one of the five, Chrissie Todd, crawls back and forth on hands and knees between front and back doors, fending off callers, while all the time pretending she’s not there.

In desperation, Yosser, “Gissa job. I can do that,” seeks help from the church. Not fussy about which he goes to, his meetings with priest and rector in Liverpool’s Catholic and Anglican cathedrals, at either end of the eponymously named Hope Street, are tragi-comedy at its best.

But, with few parallels drawn between the hardship of the 1980s and the tough times faced today by those on zero-hour contracts or in low-waged service jobs, little is done to build engagement with the characters.

Whilst we know that Chrissie keeps chickens and Angie became pregnant at just 19, their world seems distant, and their blazing row feels performative. Ms Sutcliffe and Moss from the Department of Employment’s fraud team feel two-dimensional. When she refuses to hand in their suspects because she sees the madness of the world they, and she, are in, it doesn’t evoke the sympathy it should.

There are moments where staging choices don’t support the drama. Snowy’s death by falling from a building site is not given its full weight by lighting or by back projection. And the build-up to the police arriving to arrest Yossa is thin, so that the choreographed scene in which they beat him up lacks the impact it should have.

The joy of Boys from the Blackstuff lies in its clever balance between banter and anger. The humour and banter work well but the production needs to do more to build connections with the audience if we are to be with the characters in their pain.

Alan Bleasdale’s script Boys from the Blackstuff was adapted by James Graham. It was directed by Kate Wasserberg and presented by Bill Kenwright Ltd – the Liverpool Royal Court and National Theatre production.

Boys from the Blackstuff is on at the Birmingham Rep until 22nd March. It has an age guidance of 10+. For further information see birmingham-rep.co.uk.