March 12 (Bloomberg) -- Two surprises await arrivals at Eric Bogosian's ``Talk Radio,'' which, 20 years after its off- Broadway premiere, is debuting on Broadway in a season atypically rich in dramatic revivals.

Surprise No. 1: Bogosian isn't in it (as he was in the original); Liev Schreiber is. Surprise No. 2: Bogosian's wife, Jo Bonney, hasn't directed (as she has so many of his plays); Robert Falls has.

Not to worry. The piece neatly survives in its expanded format, despite more than a dozen producers and a cast of 12, half of whom double as invisible callers on the radio talk show that is the play's locus.

We get here, for 140 uninterrupted minutes (which include a quasi-prologue and a quasi-epilogue), the tough, mean host, Barry Champlain, manning the two microphones of ``The Barry Champlain Show.'' Why two? To allow the protagonist greater mobility and accommodate the occasional guest.

Two real-life radio hosts seem to have provided inspiration: the contemporary Howard Stern, a specialist in spewing vulgarity, and the late Alan Berg, a specialist in spewing anti-Semitism and other forms of hate. Unlike Stern, paid in undeserved millions, Berg was rewarded with somewhat less deserved murder.

Motley of Misfits

Champlain holds forth in Studio B of Cleveland's fictional station WTLK, which features diverse talk-show hosts. His specialty is chatting up the motley of misfits, loners, lunatics and insomniacs whose nights are spent devouring and contributing to the ghastly nocturnal garrulity.

Barry Champlain is a past master at drawing out their weird, ludicrous or pitiful stories and fantasies and, when he sees fit, hanging up on them in mid-sentence. Though he battens on their boring banalities, he advises his callers with more sarcasm than sympathy, and mercilessly cuts them off when they overstep his low patience threshold.

The play approximates a tremendous solo performance, although the invisible callers' voices also provide juicy roles. And there are the station personnel, one of whom, a comely blonde production assistant, is Barry's much-abused mistress. They, too, get their brief monologues as adulatory Champlain boosters.

``Talk Radio'' is technically a comedy, but one that plays at the frontiers of pathos, where ridiculous nonentity bleeds into abject loquacity. It is both titillating and sad, frighteningly believable except for its ending. Champlain, physically assaulted, has an on-mike nervous breakdown, something Howard Stern, alas, hasn't achieved yet.

Satanic Grandeur

The show's bravura lead role is an object lesson in the allure of antipathy, acted out in consummate detail and with overarching satanic grandeur by Schreiber, who, following his Tony-winning foray in ``Glengarry Glen Ross,'' here affirms his indisputable stardom. He does, though, get by no means negligible support from a cast that notably includes Stephanie March as his subduedly seething girlfriend, and Sebastian Stan as a rabblerousing teen-age nutcase whom Barry cynically invites onto the show.

Kudos also to Mark Wendland's wonderfully intricate set, Laura Bauer's almost achingly accurate costumes, Christopher Akerlind's searchingly incisive lighting, and, above all, Robert Falls's splendidly detailed direction.

``Talk Radio,'' which Bogosian co-created with Ted Savinar, is much more than a mere laugh-fest: It is food for worrisome thought about what our heedless media are nurturing in us.

``Talk Radio'' is playing at the Longacre Theater, 220 W. 48th St. in Manhattan. Information: +1-212-239-6200; http://www.talkradioonbroadway.com.

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

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

Last Updated: March 12, 2007 00:01 EDT