Gaslight

The Irish Repertory Theatre, New York

IF you like your villains to come fully equipped with a cane, a cape, a devilish laugh and a handlebar moustache (to twirl in those particularly menacing moments) then the new play at the Irish Repertory Theatre in New York has got you covered.

Gaslight is one of those rip-roaring good versus evil melodramas of the sort that that were once often performed - and occasionally even enjoyed - at end of the pier concert halls in British seaside resorts at the turn of the last century. Crammed - actually stuffed to the gills - with drama and spectacle, they are as English as sticky toffee pudding, and sometimes quite as satisfying.

Just don't expect psychological complexity. Gaslight, with its rotters to hiss and damsels to cheer for, unfolds in a completely cartoon world where the battle lines are very clearly drawn. That's why - when I realized early on that it really didn't matter to me if the scheming villain actually strangled the histrionic wife - I relaxed and began to enjoy the Irish Rep's latest production on its own straightforward terms.

In modern psychology Gaslighting is the term given to the systematic attempt by one person to erode another's reality, by telling them that what they are experiencing just isn't so. The Gaslight Effect happens when you find yourself second-guessing your own reality, confused and uncertain of what you think, because you have allowed another to define your reality and tell you what you think, and even who you are. (The term has actually emerged from the premise of this very play, which was first performed in New York in 1941).

But if the premise is interesting, the writing is not. Clearly, playwright Patrick Hamilton prefers sensation to psychological insight, and so we are treated instead to a tense "look out, he's behind you" roller coaster ride.

Hamilton gives in, unabashedly, to the teeming opportunities to startle his audience. (And to tell the truth, he does this rather well). It's hokum of course, but it's so finely spun, and like the cast of this production he is clearly enjoying himself immensely.

Poor unsuspecting Mrs. Manningham is the lady of some means married to her gold digging, criminally insane, murderous husband. The poor dear doesn't suspect a thing. That's why, when small household objects go missing and her scheming husband suggests it's her doing, she goes right off the deep end.

At first she protests her innocence, then she defends it, and at last she wonders if he's right and she's wrong. Slowly she begins to suspect, and her husband cruelly assures her, that she is going mad, exactly as her mother did many years before.

This kind of narrative is genuinely chilling, but the writer consistently plays it for melodrama rather than insight, and so we are left to guess at the characters' deeper motivations.

In the lead roles both David Staller and Laura Odeh do well with this material, alternating lithely between naturalism and farce, as the play and the production demand. Those pesky missing household objects - a small painting, a broach, a shopping list - cause Mrs. Manningham far more distress than they might do most people.

In fact, we watch appalled as she is brought almost to the edge of her reason, hoarsely protesting her innocence to the point where an audience member might yell, "Oh for God's sake, it's only a shopping list!"

And if you were to yell it would probably only heighten your enjoyment of this highly strung production. After all, the play presents scenes of such egregious psychological abuse that it's difficult to sit through them without commenting.

Playing the retired detective who can't resist solving his last crime, Brian Murray gives a spirited performance, balancing acrobatically between comedy and pathos. Patricia O'Connell's understated turn as the head maid is a highlight. Watching her face crumple as she tries to contend with the complexities of serving in a house of horrors is a delight.

As the highly sexed servant girl Nancy, Laoisa Sextan brings a believable Irish element to the proceedings, projecting her will even onto her employer.

The elegant lighting design conveys the high Victorian atmosphere of this period piece with ease, adding even more drama to this already sensational production.

(Gaslight, directed by Charlotte Moore, is now playing at the Irish Repertory Theatre, 132 West 22nd Street. Call 212-727-2737.)