Finn in the Underworld

It's extremely rare to go to the theater these days and experience genuine fear. Jordan Harrison's precocious new play, Finn in the Underworld, fills the viewer with bone-tingling suspense and nameless dread -- sensations more akin to watching Hitchcock movies than works for the stage. Harrison's drama follows what happens when sisters Gwen and Rhoda, together with Gwen's son, Finn, clean out their dead father's old house and unwittingly bring back to life the gruesome secrets from the past that lurk in the basement. The play is complex and plot-driven -- death by asphyxiation might be the most horrifying narrative element -- but it's not the story that gives Finn its high fear factor: The steady compression of time, place, and character; the brain-numbing soundscape of ticking clocks and dripping taps; and the claustrophobic contractions of the walls and ceilings of the set make watching it feel like slow suffocation. Featuring poised performances from all four cast members, Finn produces a garrotelike grip on the audience that might be further enhanced with some editing, particularly in the second half.