The Effect

Can true romance come via a doctor's prescription? That's the question driving the Lucy Prebble play "The Effect" at SF Playhouse as it examines the trials of young guinea pigs in love. (Not literal guinea pigs though, sorry to get anyone's hopes up.)

In this story of pharmaceutical peril, Ayelet Firstenberg is Connie, a slightly neurotic twenty-something who agrees to spend four weeks sealed in a lab testing an experimental anti-depressant because, well, it pays.

On day one she meets fellow test subject Tristan (Joe Estlack, previously Dev in "Stupid Fucking Bird" at the Playhouse), a happy-go-lucky schlub who makes something of a career volunteering for trials like this.

Right away their relationship is extremely weird, as he offers to hand-deliver her urine sample even after she declines. When she finally gives it to him he remarks, "guess you have to be my friend now," which in any other play would indicate that a serial killer plot has just kicked in.

This vibe isn't accidental either. Pay attention to the blocking of these characters during the first half: Connie is always putting more space between them, while Tristan constantly advances.

The discomforting quality of this imbalance is definitely not helped by the play's centerpiece conflict: When Connie starts falling for Tristan in spite of herself, is it love or just the drugs screwing with her head?

Scenic designer Nina Ball enhances the alien quality of the scenario via a set that resembles a sci-fi squash court, with an oblong eight-sided shape that echoes pharmacy-dispensed tablets. And costume designer Brooke Jennings clothes Estlak and Firstenberg in slightly baggy workout clothes that make them look like astronauts about to be slingshotted into orbit.

Obviously nobody cares about the results of a fictional drug test. We're here for the relationship... except that "The Effect" automatically undermines our investment in that relationship, since it might all just be the unpredictable influence of chemical science.

As Prebble points out more than once, arguably all romance is just a brain trick, whether it comes from the gray matter, a pill bottle, or the old love potion shtick ala "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

This poses some heady questions, but since they're mostly questions without any possible answers, it's hard to generate much suspense about them.

There's also a subplot with Playhouse cofounder Susi Damilano as the researcher running the test and facing her own demons in the form of agonizing depression and an on-again, off-again romance with her boss (Robert Parsons, previously from Aurora's "A Bright New Boise").

This extra conflict creates keen and sometimes shocking drama, but it also feels like a whole other play, and director Bill English doesn't marry the two halves together particularly seamlessly.

When Parsons appears onstage out of nowhere to deliver a sales pitch complete with a gruesome surprise in a bucket, he's fascinating to watch, but you can't kick the feeling that you've just been interrupted by an infomercial.

So "The Effect" is largely a series of non-starters. But for all of those flaws it has a kind of authenticity that keeps it engaging, the first being that despite everything Estlack and Firstenberg are actually a cute couple.

Estlack in particular has a tough job on his hands, as Tristan is frankly kind of a creepy doofus and the play never addresses the unfortunate undertones of his aggression. This puts a lot of strain on Estlack's big kid eyes and generally gentle demeanor to keep things from going off the rails, but he holds it together.

To be honest, this romance is more interesting when it does start to fall apart, and English and the company create a sharp atmosphere of ponderous dread as the experiment homes in on its climax.

Like the centerpiece couple, none of the parts of "The Effect" really belong with each other. But they are suitably fascinating on their own to keep the show from washing out.

"The Effect" runs through April 28 at SF Playhouse, 450 Post Street, San Francisco, California. For tickets and information, call 415-677-9596 or visit SFPlayhouse.org