Theatre in Review: Cold Water (Little Engine Theater/Ki Smith Gallery)Cold Water, a wry and occasionally touching two-hander by the British-American Philippa Lawford (with an assist from Anton Chekhov) is most notable for the opportunities it affords two fine actors. Ben Rosenfield, last seen as the riotously disputatious pro-Israel college student in The Ally last season, now captures the spirit of Matt, whose career -- "You're shocked that I went to RADA and I'm not a working actor?" he asks, edgily -- has brought him to a suburban English town where he teaches drama in a high school. Reconciled to the career change, his marriage stressed by a full-on attempt at having a baby, he is an expert realist, skilled at playing whatever hand he is dealt. He strikes a spark with Emma, his rather younger temporary assistant, who harbors dreams of acting, using his still-potent professional connections to advance her career, so much so that one wonders if he isn't participating in a vicarious do-over for himself. Stefania LaVie Owen is Emma, a skeptical, self-critical sort, given to holding her aspirations close to her chest. Unassuming, often speaking in telegraph-style phrases, she is surprisingly handy with quietly devastating observations. To be sure, she is a product of her generation, familiarizing herself with the SparksNotes guide to The Seagull rather than the real thing, which doesn't stop her from dismissing Nina as the product of a middle-aged writer's fantasies. Then again, she turns full fangirl at the thought of meeting a major stage and TV leading man. She is also not immune to handsome, troubled, married teachers, if you know what I mean. The latter isn't surprising since her love life most recently involved a home viewing of The Silence of the Lambs followed by a quick shag. Thrown together, these charming fish-out-of-water types work fruitfully on a production of The Seagull -- that must be some high school -- even if they teeter on the edge of something more emotionally binding. (Pregnant pauses abound.) Indeed, they are a modern variation on Chekhov's Trigorin and Nina -- in this version, an older, unsuccessful artist and a young woman with real talent but a worrying lack of drive. He sets up a meeting with a major star, whose next project, a TV series, has a leading role for her. Then, however, she makes a decision that throws their slightly uneasy collaboration into total disarray. Lawford has a real knack for casual exchanges that prove highly revealing. Ben quotes a line from The History Boys, and, following Emma's reaction, is forced to cite the name of playwright Alan Bennett. (The script leaves open the question of whether she is ignorant of Bennett or simply unimpressed by his attempt at a joke.) Polishing his bona fides, he shows her a photo of his RADA production of The Seagull, boastfully challenging her to pick out his now-famous co-stars. She slyly observes how he changes his accent around his working-actor friends, a tic he claims to be unaware of. And, after a romantic gesture falls flat and he patronizes with a comment about being young and confused, she quietly devastates him with a single remark that makes one think again about the emotional currents surging between them. The playwright is especially good at throwing cold water on stale notions of romance. Lawford's writing is observant and honest, although, even at a brief sixty-five minutes, you might feel she is making too much of an essentially static situation. Still, Rosenfeld -- lost in memories of school days or engaging in tense phone conversations with his wife -- and Owen -- avoiding probing questions yet meaningfully telling him, "I don't agree with your theory. That people do what they want. I don't do what I want" -- find an easy, naturalistic manner that perfectly suits the tiny theatre at the Ki Smith Gallery. This is surely to the credit of director Michael Herwitz, who also guides them in a poignant reading of The Seagull's fourth act. Mextly Couzin, best known as a lighting designer but here credited as the scenographer, provides a suitable school auditorium look; her lighting reveals her unusual color sense, especially an intriguing table featuring Emma downstage in darkness and Matt upstage, illuminated in saturated purples, reds, and oranges. The composer Julia Bailen supplies an affecting theme heard more than once. Sound designer Ryan Gamblin nicely delivers a handful of effects. Cold Water is a delicate thing, a play of mood and sensibility, but with an underlying hardness of observation. It serves as an effective calling card for some talented young people, all certain to turn up again in more high-profile situations. --David Barbour 
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