Natasha Richardson and Rupert Graves try to get 'Closer'

To get a look at the new face of American theatre, one need travel no further than that neon-bedecked proscenium of New York's Broadway, where the renaissance is in full force. A quick survey of the big hits on Broadway right now reads like a Who's Who of hot new playwrights from England, Ireland . . . Okay, well, wait, that doesn't say much about American theatre, but there are plenty of Americans out there. I mean, we currently have shows from Arthur Miller, Irving Berlin, Tennessee Williams . . . Hmm, of course, those guys aren't exactly young turks.

Okay, so fuck it, there aren't a lot of new names out there in American theatre right now. But as long as we're getting a certain caliber of quality from the British Isles, I for one ain't gonna bitch about it. The hot new dealio I just checked out, fresh from it's rollicking stage success in London, is 'Closer', written by one Patrick Marber.

Closer is where you can get in the direction of Happiness, or Love, or the Truth, or another human being, but, at least in this Xeno's paradox of a relationship comedy, you can never seem to get all the way. The players here are Anna Friel as Alice, the stripper who is rescued from a car accident by Dan (Rupert Graves), a shallow, passionate writer of obituaries who develops a thing for photographer Anna (Natasha Richardson, who I was very glad to see finally after just missing her in Cabaret) who, under hilariously embarrassing circumstances, starts up a thing with dermatologist Larry (Ciaran Hinds).

Over the several years that the play covers, relationships are started and ended, marriages made, divorces signed, wealth accumulated, and secrets revealed, all while the detritus of past scenes accumulates on the stage behind the actors. Sex is talked about--endlessly, raunchily, and in great detail (don't go with your mother). Meanwhile, an odd backdrop looms . . . what is it? Some sort of art gallery of equally sized picture frames? It is a question mark that hovers over the whole production, that when answered, leaves only more questions.

There's plenty of drama and yelling in 'Closer', but the comedy is also dead on, particularly the play's comic highlight, a bout of cybersex between the two male cast members, one of them posing as a woman, that is uncannily and uproariously lifelike down to the smallest neglect of capitalization. The observations on sex and gender are also very familiar and pointed--anyone who's ever had a relationship with anyone will find something to relate to here.

'Closer' is at the Music Box theatre on 45th Street (odd, since it's not a musical). It's worth checking out. Not too sure it's a great date show, but at least it'll give you something to talk about.