Drama will make you squirm, think

This Neil LaBute play is harsh; the characters are foul-mouthed and cruel; traces of humanity are hard to locate.

Yet, you might be surprised at how well “The Shape of Things” works, first of all as a psychodrama and, second, as an intellectual argument about the manipulative power of art.

The result was an evening that often made me squirm; sometimes made me roll my eyes; but always made me think.

Here’s the only guarantee I can make about “The Shape of Things”: You will discuss it on the way home, probably passionately, and maybe long into the night.

This is not to imply that it is necessarily a great piece of theater. This play is a better piece of intellectual provocation than theater, which is oddly fitting since LaBute’s theme is: Is provocation art? Or is it merely shallow manipulation?

The play is about Adam, a shy English student at a small college who meets a good-looking, fiery art student named Evelyn who is about to vandalize a sculpture (she considers this an artistic statement). He’s the security guard who fails to stop her. But somehow, for some reason, they end up falling for each other.

The only other two characters are Adam’s friends, Jenny and Phillip, who are engaged. They don’t like Adam’s wild new girlfriend, and they don’t like the changes she has prompted in his personality, even though these changes are mostly for the better. He’s thinner, happier, more fit and he has stopped chewing his nails.

Most of the play involves nasty, bitter arguments among these characters.

There is not much more to the plot than that – at least not that I can disclose. Everything leads toward a surprise twist near the end. It will make you see everything that has gone before in a different light.

The show has a striking look, as designed by John Hofland. Parthenon-like columns frame a screen in which slides of various scenes are projected: a lawn, a coffee shop. The floor contains a circle with crucial words from the script: “Except for just one thing.”

Director Michael Weaver has put together a strong ensemble cast. Evan Hernandez is diffident but lovable as Adam; he comes across as the second coming of David Schwimmer, and I mean that as a compliment.

Caryn Hoaglund sets the right tone for Jenny: flighty, naïve and not too bright. Ken Urso gives a tough and venomous performance as Phillip, a nasty, shallow weasel of a character, of whom Adam says, “I wouldn’t use his name and the word ‘sweet’ in the same short story.”

Julie M. Zimmer is up to the play’s toughest assignment, playing Evelyn. In LaBute’s hands she is a nightmare girlfriend: cruel, powerful and with a talent for passive-aggressive (but mostly aggressive) manipulation. Evelyn is something less than human, but Zimmer makes her seem plenty real.

Is Evelyn some kind of LaBute misogynist fantasy? The evidence points to yes, but this is one of the many questions that are open to post-play debate. One thing we have to remember: What these characters say should not be confused with what the playwright is saying. Often the characters are spouting the opposite of what LaBute himself seems to be trying to say. And I suppose I would sum that up like this: People hurt each other terribly, and just because they say they are doing it for noble reasons does not make the pain less.

And even though LaBute is an expert at depicting emotional cruelty, I don’t think he endorses it. But even that is open for discussion.