Theatre in Review: Jacuzzi (The Debate Society/Ars Nova)Come on in; the water's fine -- but be careful to whom you spill your guts in Jacuzzi, a nifty black comedy/psychological thriller designed to keep you on pins and needles for the entirety of its 100-minute running time. Dispensing with the trappings of melodrama, the authors, Hannah Bos and Paul Thureen, construct an eerily ambiguous situation, holding back just enough information to keep us wondering who is going to do what to whom -- and when. The action begins in darkness, with a phone message from "Centennial Home Services," apologizing for the actions of a certain Helene, whom, the speaker assures, will be fired as soon as she is found. Then the lights come up on a Colorado ski villa, which, in Laura Jellinek's beautifully detailed set design -- stained wood, family photo collages, snowshoes artfully arranged on the wall -- takes up the entire length of the Ars Nova space. At the moment, the amenity of the title -- yes, there is a real working Jacuzzi on stage -- is occupied by a young woman and her companion, both reading copies of the book Making Bobby Robert and making fairly inane conversation. Their watery idyll is interrupted by a young man named Bo, who is set to move to the village the next day. He apologizes for arriving early; they invite him to stay. He asks them their names: He is Derek. She is Helene. Bo, who is clearly troubled, joins them in the tub. The villa, it turns out, belongs to his parents, Robert and Jackie, who are going through a spectacularly acrimonious divorce. Bo, who has been bumming around Europe, is set to meet up with Robert, whom he hasn't seen in a couple of years; tellingly, Robert is paying him for his time. They're scheduled to take part in a community ski event, about which Bo is markedly unenthusiastic; while floating in the Jacuzzi with Derek and Helene, he gets royally drunk and passes out. The next morning, a hungover Bo greets Robert, but now things have changed. Helene and Eric (as Derek now calls himself) are not time-sharers renting the villa, as they seemed previously, but are caretakers who have been hired to make repairs to the villa. Even more oddly, they volunteer to help Robert pack up Jackie's things -- which are to be returned as part of the divorce settlement -- refusing payment for their work. Before long, they are staying for dinner -- and then sleeping over. As the weekend progresses, and more than one confessional session is held in the Jacuzzi, it becomes clear that something is up, but what? Helene and Eric couldn't be more helpful -- but notice the chilling way they stare at each other when nobody is looking. They tell Bo that they come from large families, but inform Robert that they are the only children of dead parents. If Helene isn't who she says she is, where is her namesake? What is the nature of the experiments that Robert and Jackie -- both psychologists -- practiced on Bo? And what did Bo do while in Romania that leaves him with such a tormented conscience? Not all of these questions are answered in detail, but you'll find out enough to have your nerves fairly thoroughly shredded as you wait for the penny to drop. Bos and Thureen demonstrate a real mastery of shivery, low-key suspense and will keep you guessing until the very last, when it appears as if the play will end on an unresolved note, an expectation shattered by a bombshell quietly dropped about two seconds before the final blackout. Oliver Butler, who is credited with developing the idea for Jacuzzi, also directed, and his handling of the four-person cast, which includes the two playwrights, skillfully contributes to the feeling of growing unease. Bos' Helene skillfully purveys bland conversation and a host of friendly smiles to win over Bo and Robert -- but when alone or with Eric she displays a flat-affect demeanor that, one fears, reveals her true self. She is especially deft during a scene in which Hannah tricks Robert into revealing information about a cancer scare, which she then uses to manipulate Bo. Thureen, with his towering height and shoulder-length hair, is a big bear of a handyman, but there's always something faintly sinister about him. When Helene, trapped by a question she doesn't want to answer, throws it over to Eric, you can see the wheels turning in his mind as he concocts a plausible answer. Chris Lowell's Bo is utterly lacking in direction ("I had an internship once"), unable to do much more than pick over the wounds of his childhood; even in stillness you can see him boiling over with unresolved anger. Peter Friedman's Robert is an affable, oversharing jackass, who makes a lucrative living turning out one brainless pop psychology tome after another. (Making Bobby Robert was his breakthrough work, written with his ex; his newest effort is about food, "a way of defrosting the fridge of your mind.") The actor neatly captures the self-absorption that makes Robert such an easy mark for Helene and Eric. In addition to Jellinek's set, Bradley King's lighting creates a number of time-of-day looks and helps to suggest the frigid atmosphere just outside the villa's sliding doors. Jessica Ford's costumes cleverly contrast Bo's expensive ski wear with Helene and Eric's Walmart-ready outfits. M. L. Dogg's sound design includes a number of evocative effects, including the burble of water in the Jacuzzi, and the sounds of arriving snowmobiles and helicopters. You could probably make the case that Jacuzzi is about class war, pitting the cunning poor against members of a ruling caste who are so decadent and mired in narcissism that they can't tell when they're being taken for a ride. But you're far more likely to remember the intriguing situation, crafty performances, and slow-burning tension that never lets up. This one is as bracing as that freezing Colorado weather.--David Barbour 
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