Lizardskin

When mysterious men mysteriously enter the lives of wounded young people, you can pretty much guess how it will end: horrible secrets will be revealed, seductions will be attempted, and someone will probably die. It is to Jen Silverman's great credit, then, that her new play Lizardskin manages to dance around these tired traditions without ever falling into them. Genuinely emotional and quietly surprising, the play is at once eerie and witty, and never quite goes where you think it will.

As the children of a diplomat who frequently moved from country to country, young Norway and Moscow (yes, those are their names) never had friends to play with as kids. Now grown (or almost), they still rely upon each other for emotional support and entertainment, playing twisted games (and mind games) that delve into their psyches. When the siblings meet the mysterious and seductive Max, they hope that he will be the friend they never had... and maybe more than a friend. As they introduce Max to their games, their many secrets begin to unravel, leading to emotional confrontations and new perceptions.

Shattering the fourth wall and presenting the play in a not-exactly-linear style, Silverman (and director Katherine Kovner) keep the mood surreal and fantastical, letting the characters argue amongst themselves about what did or did not actually happen in the story. But while the presentation might be avant-garde, the story and the characters are realistic and recognizably human.

Unfortunately, in trying to be refreshingly realistic, the script does tend to become a bit dull as it nears what should be its climax. Reality does not make for the most exciting drama, and while it deflates very nicely, as my friend commented when we left the theatre, it still deflates.

 If the script has some weaknesses, the cast more than compensates. As Moscow, Norway and Max, respectively, Paul David Story, Melissa Miller and Chandler Williams share an excellent chemistry with plenty of sparks in it. Mr. Story is full of teenage angst and bravado that doesn't quite hide the vulnerability beneath, while the luminous Ms. Miller brings a wry intelligence to her role. Mr. Williams, who shone in last year's Rope at the Zipper Theater, keeps every promise that excellent performance made, walking the line between secretive and sympathetic. Corinne Merril's sparse set of empty cages speaks volumes about the characters and their own metaphorical cages before the play even begins.

As mysteries go, Lizardskin is a smart, unassuming piece that quietly undermines expectations in original and enjoyable ways.