Stage Notes: Ladies & Gents Is "Devilishly Chilling."

My opening was going to be: “Here’s a show Larry Craig might like; it’s set in a public restroom,” followed by, “Ripped from today’s headlines: prostitute takes politician down.” But then I thought, this play is far superior to the sordid sex lives of a pair of horn-dog politicos, and I should just come out with it: Ladies & Gents, a devilishly chilling, voyeuristic thriller from Ireland, written and directed by Paul Walker, and excellently acted by a cast of six, is one of the best site-specific theater pieces I’ve seen. The dialogue is crisp and revealing, the play’s bifurcated construction is genius, and the lighting is wickedly effective. It’s billed as “live noir,” and yes, there’s creepy sex, scary characters and nasty payback, but I don’t want to reveal too much of what happens in the compact two, 20-minute parts of the play, because a great deal of the fun and enjoyment is not knowing what’s going to happen next….

The seriousness of the evening is set up at the outset, and the audience of 40-45 is suitably apprehensive, before being cleverly separated into equal groups, and ushered into one of the two rest rooms and told where to stand. Everyone has a good view of the action, plus the audience is on the same level as the actors, and very close, so you can feel the tension. (I caught a big whiff of perfume that had just been applied, as the woman walked by me.) One group sees the part in the men’s room first, while the other half watches the part in the women’s room. The idea is that both scenes are going on at the same time, with a little outside sound effects to add to the creepiness. After a short break, to take a breath and collect yourself, the groups switch rooms. Things that are unclear in one part become clear in the other. Both parts add up to a satisfying whole. While not giving it away, I will say that there is a handsome man, a Mr. X, a thug, a boy, a sexy woman and a climax to each part.

The site-specific nature of the public restrooms, within the entire context of the play and the societal hypocrisy it sheds some light on, couldn’t be more apt. It’s a cold porcelain world, of white doors that guarantee a modicum of privacy, and steel plumbing equipment that carries away one’s bodily waste; but as we witness, more than that gets flushed away in this intense, tragic gem.

Bethesda Fountain Toilets, Central Park (enter at W. 72nd St. and follow the signs), (212) 868-4444, or www.smartix.com. Mar. 17–29, nightly, 7, 8 & 9 p.m. $25.