Steve

In the same way that a psychiatrist looks at human interaction through the subconscious, a theologian through relationship to God, and a football coach as teams following patterns thought out in a huddle, gay playwrights see gay men through the prism of theater queens.

Now, I am a dedicated theater queen, and Broadway musicals are the lingua franca that direct conversation with my friends. But I've never encountered a group like the foursome in "Steve." At least not under the age of 70.

Then again, I must run with a fast crowd, because even in my extended circle, if someone were caught sexting the partner of a "girlfriend," his husband's emotions would barely push past mild indifference. As for infidelity -- even the word seems so... straight.

I mean, if a couple I knew brought in a gorgeous personal trainer for a standing m�nage � trois (actually, I shouldn't say "if," since it has happened), everyone I know would be high-fiving them.

I really wanted to like "Steve," because it's directed by Cynthia Nixon, probably the most intelligent actor working today. She certainly knows her way around four self-obsessed grown-ups who spend way too much time agonizing over their sex lives (or lack thereof).

But instead of the heady, if occasionally sticky, hedonism of "Sex in the City," these guys think about it, talk about it, try to avoid it and cover up about it way more than they do it.

After suffering through the truly execrable couple in Terrance McNally's "Mothers and Sons" (at least the son one couple is raising in "Steve" remains offstage), and the silly twat constantly seeking love in "Significant Other," the men in "Steve" are comparably palatable.

At least their one-liners land. And one, Mario Cantone, chews up the scenery, the lighting and the props with a bravura performance. His oversized gestures and even outsized facial features play much better in live theater than small or large screen, and I hope he gets a starring role in which he can really stretch soon.

Malcolm Gets is fine but a bit too subdued. Jerry Dixon handles his relatively brief stints onstage well enough. Matt McGrath managed to be completely successful in making his character totally insufferable -- not always easy to pull off.

I know I haven't really said much about the plot, but that's because there isn't much to say. There's a lot of talking, some yelling. Couples pull apart, seem to re-emerge. These guys are so advanced-p.c. that their requisite female BFF is a lesbian, played like a Mama Cass-type earth mother by Ashlie Atkinson.

The action is sandwiched by -- guess what? -- the cast singing show tunes. In playwright Mark Gerrard's Manhattan, gay men still find their collective voice through Rodgers and Hammerstein, Stephen Sondheim and Cole Porter.

I guess these guys exist, but not only do I not know them, I don't find them particularly interesting.

"Steve" runs through Dec. 27 at the Pershing Square Signature Theater on Theater Row in Hell's Kitchen, 480 W. 42nd St. For tickets or information, call 212-244-7529 or go to the New Group's website.