Ruhl's "In the Next Room or the vibrator play" leaves audience dry

Seldom does Broadway see a mid-Victorian revival from period masters like Oscar Wilde. For most audiences, the English Renaissance of Shakespeare is far more familiar territory than the height of British Empire. An inability to connect with Victorian values of formality, propriety, class hierarchy and prudishness may be to blame.

None of this scares playwright Sarah Ruhl whose new play, In The Next Room or the vibrator play at the Lyceum Theatre addresses those themes and more. Set in a time before the female sexuality became a cottage industry, In The Next Room... takes place in an upstate NY town in the 1880s, think Saratoga Springs for those who couldn't make it to Newport. Ruhl creates a parlor drama revolving around a doctor, Mr. Givings (Michael Cerveris) who creates a vibrator therapy for female patients suffering from hysteria, and his wife (Laura Benanti) who is a touch hysterical (and certainly bored) herself . The device is possible due to the recent advent of domestic electricity which acts as leitmotiv for connection, energy and modernity, something that "can be turned on and off at whim" according to Mrs. Givings.

As the doctor becomes engrossed with his therapies, his wife grows increasingly connected to the patients who come calling to the home-office. Her inability to produce enough breast milk for their newborn daughter causes the couple to hire a wet nurse, Elizabeth (Quincy Tyler Bernstine), to provide sustenance to the infant and the emotional center of the drama. Theatergoers will recognize Ms. Bernstine from her amazing turn in the Pulitzer-winning drama Ruined. Her talent is not accidental. In a production where the actors exist at an odd distance from the dialogue, Ms. Bernstine is the only cast member to inhabit her character in a grounded fashion. Once again, the help has all of the sense.

Director Les Waters develops a confident flow of plot and rich balance among the cast. Annie Smart's dollhouse set heightens the emotional resonance in the finale scene, which oddly, is one of the few exciting moments in the entire production. Fans of Mr. Cerveris and Ms. Benanti's work will find themselves disappointed in a piece that gives them little range. (Benanti sings a few bars, a tease, really). David Zinn's lush costumes make us all thankful that we've exchanged corsets for spanxs. Somewhere Edith Wharton touches herself.

The domestic realm is Ms. Ruhl's preferred venue. Lincoln Center Theater produced her neurotic comedy "The Clean House" in 2005 with many familiar echoes. This production however appears to lack an urgency that leaves all of the characters marooned on their own islands, no matter how pleasurable or comic the mechanical erotica. Audiences will enjoy rich laughs from the clinical treatment scenes. Imagine a time before everyone had a goody draw. Female masturbation may no longer be taboo, but Ruhl underscores that male problematization of a woman's pleasure remains with us. Call it: "The Importance of Being Wet". Grade: B