Fear not: This 'Woolf' has plenty of bite

Todd Olson has directed an intoxicating, crackling production of Edward Albee's "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" With off-the-charts performances and Albee's particular gift of language, this show entered the realm of unparalleled excellence.

Someone stop me. I'm gushing.

Here's the story: George (Richard B. Watson) and Martha (Christine Decker) have been married for more than 20 years. He is a history professor at a small New England college headed by Martha's father. After a party in which a guest puns on the sing-songy "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf," Martha invites a new biology professor, Nick (Matthew Stephen Huffman), and his wife, Honey (Betty-Jane Parks), to the house. Alcohol flows, and George and Martha instigate a vicious word war. Nick tries to keep up with his hosts' intellect, while Honey drinks herself sick. The night devolves into a gut-wrenching, destructive dissection of selves.

Albee's onion has too many layers to peel in a 400-word article, so one or two will have to do.

Martha and George have woven their relationship from the curtains of a theater macabre. They thrive on drama, especially before an audience, and this evening they allow emotions to rise to a level that would make the most seasoned voyeur blush. Bright but supposedly benign, George and Martha cross lines, cause injury and welcome suffering. They are S&M poster children.

Nick and Honey are not. So why do they stay in this den of iniquity, when reason and taste scream for them to leave? Because they are human. With George representing history and Nick standing for biology, Albee reveals the inevitability of action and reaction. The past proves that people naturally throng to drama, accepting both roles of weapon and target. Whether it's to alleviate boredom, to feel more alive, to satisfy curiosity or to make a point, we are drawn to spectacle.

Watson and Decker brought an abundance of riches to their parts. They oozed intellectual and physical sensuality, creating a palpable chemistry. They weren't the caricatures that Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton made on screen; they were real and human and sympathetic even in their most monstrous states. And they were funny, which is often an untapped element in this play. More remarkable still was their skill at conveying George and Martha's genuine tenderness and deep love for each other.

Though Honey is the least developed personality, Parks' winsome performance made her far more interesting than the character deserved. As Nick, Huffman beautifully balanced convention with passion. It was fascinating to watch him manage the struggle, squaring off with his cohorts in this extraordinary production.