Nov. 7 (Bloomberg) -- The British playwright Sarah Kane, as troubled as a soul can be, wrote five plays before committing suicide in 1999 at age 28. Her first, ``Blasted,'' is having its American premiere at Soho Rep in New York.

If watching atrocities on stage makes you excessively uncomfortable, this play is not for you. It takes place in Leeds, England, in a posh hotel room to which Ian, 45, a journalist, has brought lower-middle-class Cate, 21, who stutters under stress.

He has known her for a long time, even physically, and his purpose is clearly sexual, though Cate, who is somewhat dim, is of two minds. There is sexual skirmishing, which Cate resists, though when the pair wakes up in bed together next morning, she has, however reluctantly, acceded. She goes to shower in the bathroom, after which she apparently leaves, though somehow not by the door, which we can plainly see.

Outside, there is turmoil, armed clashes with ethnic minorities. A swarthy soldier (no name given) irrupts, and with gun pointed at Ian, engages in a battle of words. There has been nudity before; now there is brutal, graphic sodomy. The soldier sucks Ian's eyes out of his head, yet is dead, an apparent suicide, by the time Cate returns with a stray baby crying in her arms.

It dies and is buried by Cate under the floorboards. She leaves again and a starving Ian digs up the baby and takes a few bites out of it. Ian is waist-deep in the grave when Cate comes back with food, some of which she feeds to him. If this sort of thing interests you, my telling this much will not deter you from attending; if it doesn't, it will serve as a welcome warning.

Elaborate Effects

To alleviate the Grand Guignol quality -- and there are some further shock effects I spare you -- there would be need for some psychological insight or more distinctive dialogue, which we do not get. We do get some fancy visual effects (set design by Louisa Thompson), such as the hotel after a direct hit, and some elaborate sound effects (courtesy of Matt Tierney). Toward the end, we also get brief wordless scenes (Tyler Micoleau's lights blink rapidly on and off) showing stages of Ian's deterioration.

The cast -- Reed Birney, Marin Ireland and Louis Cancelmi (Soldier) -- does heroically under Sarah Benson's direction. You may be amazed at what an actor is willing to expose himself to for the sake of employment or, if sufficiently gullible, art.

I myself question Kane's artistry; I believe there are limits to what needs to be shown, and where shock prevails, art has scant chance. The audience seemed both spellbound -- not a cough heard -- and, finally, enthusiastic, but that seems to be automatic these days. In this tiny, 74-seat theater, you certainly were on intimate footing with horror.

At Soho Rep, 46 Walker St., Manhattan. Information: +1-212-352-3101; http://www.sohorep.org.

Algonquin `Moon'

Intimacy of a happier sort is part of the charm at the musical ``Glimpses of the Moon,'' which was a success last winter at the Algonquin Hotel's Oak Room -- where one of the story's episodes is actually situated -- and is now revived there, playing on Monday nights.

This endearing vest-pocket musical is based on a novel by Edith Wharton, needless to say extremely boiled down to essentials. It centers on two young people, Nick and Suzy, penniless but attractive, who find, lose and re-embrace each other amid a social whirl between Newport and Manhattan and a borrowed cottage in Maine. He is in pursuit of fame (a slowly germinating novel), she of money (a rich marriage).

But never mind the story. The book and lyrics by Tajlei Levis are perfectly serviceable, and John Mercurio's music is consistently enjoyable; I only wish he had a rousing final number. It is compellingly played by Rick Hip-Flores on piano, and Erica vonKleist alternating on reeds.

Fine Cast

The winning cast comprises Jane Blass and Lauren Jordan (fine character women), Daren Kelly and Glenn Peters (assured character men), and Chris Peluso and Autumn Hurlbert (exemplary juvenile and ingenue), all under Marc Bruni's lively and resourceful direction. There is also a striking guest appearance by belter Liz Larsen as a nightclub chanteuse.

The tiny space -- requiring weaving in and out among tables -- precludes sets; you read the scenes and scenery out of the program. Yet that's the charm of it, like having the actors perform in your living room.

Lisa Zinni's costumes are sassily apt, and Denis Jones's choreography does nicely by what the space allows. And it is all delightfully prefaced by the soigne food, drink and service at the Algonquin. It plays only on Monday nights but elicits a Sunday kind of love.

At the Algonquin Hotel, 59 W. 44th St., Manhattan. Information: +1-866-468-7619; http://www.ticketweb.com.

(John Simon is the New York drama critic for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this column: John Simon in New York at jis1925@aol.com.

Last Updated: November 7, 2008 00:01 EST