Only good vibrations

Elisabeth Vincentelli
Blog: Theater

THEATER REVIEW

IN THE NEXT ROOM OR THE VIBRATOR PLAY Lyceum Theatre, 149 W. 45th St.; 212-239-6200.

There's a lot of buzz surrounding Sarah Ruhl's Broadway debut -- and there's a lot in it, too.

It's safe to say that "In the Next Room or the vibrator play" goes where no Broadway show has gone before. And we're not talking about nudity (though there's some of that) or graphic sexuality.

Ruhl presents something a lot more intimate and a lot more daring: women's discovery of their own bodies and their own pleasure. It may be the first time we've seen characters repeatedly reach orgasm on a mainstream stage -- in a Lincoln Center Theater production, no less -- and it happens in a play that's smart, delicate and very, very funny.

Joan Marcus

Chandler Williams and Lau- ra Benanti share a moment.

VIDEO: "IN THE NEXT ROOM OR THE VIBRATOR PLAY"

Michael Cerveris plays Dr. Givings, a dedicated man of science who uses the latest technology to help his patients (most of them female) overcome various psychological ailments, or "hysteria." Since the play is set in the 1880s, Givings' state-of-the-art tool is "therapeutic electrical massage."

And it seems as if there's no problem that can't be cured by the careful application of a vibrating pad to one's nether regions. It certainly works on the depressive Mrs. Daldry (Maria Dizzia). Even an occasional male case (Chandler Williams) benefits from a close encounter with the "Chattanooga vibrator."

Givings' father was an abolitionist: Liberating people from their physical and mental shackles runs in the family.

At least Mrs. Givings (the piquant, vibrant Laura Benanti) is energetic and looks happy. But she also has no outlets, and like most middle-class women, very little autonomy. Unable to breastfeed her newborn, she hires a wet nurse (Quincy Tyler Bernstine).

It's only a matter of time until the restless Mrs. Givings, intrigued by Mrs. Daldry's marked improvement, starts poking into her husband's operating room.

Ruhl's previous plays, like "The Clean House" and "Dead Man's Cell Phone," have been accused of being too whimsical. Working within a fact-based frame imposed a welcome discipline on her. The style may appear more conventional, but its dryness and humor are perfect for the subject matter. And Ruhl works in a poetic finale that redeems the second act's occasional wobbliness.

As well written as the play is, it could easily have gone astray in the wrong hands. But director Les Waters and his cast proceed with great sensitivity.

Cerveris' earnest, slightly stiff physicality is put to good use here, while Benanti and Dizzia brim with a contagious glee in their shared scenes. Excited and curious, they giggle, whisper and intrigue. After all, their characters are on the cusp of a marvelous discovery: They were already adults. Now they can become women.

elisabeth.vincentelli @nypost.com