Off Broadway

Crave

 (Center Stage; 70 seats; $18 top)

By MARK BLANKENSHIP

Relationships fall apart in Sarah Kane's 'Crave,' starring Michael Chmiel, left, Ryan Farley, Heidi Armbruster and Julie Fitzpatrick.

A Bosley Theatrical Prods. presentation of a play in one act by Sarah Kane. Directed by Justin Quinn Pelegano.
 
M - Heidi Armbruster
C - Julie Fitzpatrick
B - Michael Chmiel
A - Ryan Farley
 

Few playwrights understood suffering like the late Sarah Kane. In the 50 taut minutes of "Crave," the British scribe uncovers the darkest moment in failing relationships, when the animal need to stop hurting will make a lover try anything -- begging, tears, booze, pills -- that might bring relief. As always, though, Kane makes her agony exquisite by wrapping it in poetry, writing with observations so sharp they feel like absolute truth.

As much as with its language, the play also entices with its loose form. As in "4.48 Psychosis" -- the study in self-collapse that recently came to BAM with Isabelle Huppert -- Kane trades stage directions and recognizable characters for stream-of-consciousness. We catch loose bits of story in "Crave" -- a woman remembers being abused as a child, a man regrets having an affair -- but the larger purpose is capturing the sensations of heartbreak.

With a script this amorphous, creatives are required to make bold choices. For his part, director Justin Quinn Pelegano aims for something like traditional narrative, divvying the quartet of speakers into two distinct couples who direct large portions of their dialogue at one another. The text mostly supports him -- the language here is far more naturalistic than in "Psychosis" -- and, by crafting distinct relationships, Pelegano gives the audience an anchor as the disjointed words sail by.

The actors, too, make clear choices, expressively detailing their snapshots of emotional turmoil. Ryan Farley impresses with a lengthy monologue about all the things he wishes he could do with a former lover ("smell you and offend you when I touch you and whimper when I'm next to you and whimper when I'm not"). Though it's essentially a list, he imbues the speech with a growing sense of longing.

Specificity also serves the production when the play defies simple narrative. Sometimes, actors must leave their primary roles to become therapists, parents or narrators, but the switches are made clear with simple gestures and shifts in Andrew Lu's lighting design.

And yet, for all its impressive perfs and careful plotting, this "Crave" lacks the primal feeling of Kane's writing. A cold impersonality creeps in as we're carefully walked through each new thought, denying any sense of spontaneity.

For one thing, even though they're talking to each other, the actors rarely make eye contact. Thesps generally stand in a straight line, speaking straight ahead from a stage area designated by a chair and some scattered props. Even when they break ranks and touch each other, the actors keep their faces on the crowd. Working alone, they might overcome this presentational style. But since the cast has been so obviously paired up, their lack of interaction reads like a willful attempt to deny emotional engagement.

Feeling also suffers with a conceit that has everyone daub themselves with red paint by show's end. The heavy implication in the final moment is that they've all committed suicide and are streaked with blood.

That's a valid choice, but since it's quickly obvious that everyone will end up painted, the visceral impact of the suicide image is dampened by the intellectual game of waiting for the actor at stage left to finally get his splash of color.

This leaves us with a "Crave" more easily considered than felt. Of course, there's plenty in Kane's dark world that's worth considering, so for some, this could very well be the perfect iteration of the script.

Sets and lighting, Andrew Lu; sound, Pelegano; production stage manager, Devlin Goldberg. Opened Feb. 22, 2006. Reviewed Feb. 24. Running time: 50 MIN.