Playwright Thomas Kilroy says he was drawn to "historical gaps" when he began to ruminate on a play about Constance Wilde and her famous husband, Oscar. What questions do these moments imply? How might a metaphoric fantasy emerge, arching beyond mere nonfiction?

Kilroy's imagination took him to the themes of tragedy and partial redemption evident in "The Secret Fall of Constance Wilde."

There are no airy country porches or cucumber sandwiches in Kilroy's invention. Set designer Tony Fanning has built a gritty Victorian way station dominated by three staircases. Within this existential limbo, six black-clad avatars create a theatrical universe in which to tell the story.

Kilroy thus raises the stakes of a personal tale, infusing it with Greek tragedy and Christian morality plays. Too, we glimpse the shadows of Brecht as Oscar and Constance appear as players in their own melodrama -- accompanied by music, movement and puppetry provided by the mysterious provocateurs. On occasion, the device goes on for its own sake in Marcela Lorca's production. However, it undeniably heightens the scope.

The Wilde marriage had all the celebrity gossip power of Britney and Kevin Federline -- gender roles reversed. She was essentially a fan of the literary darling, and the union produced two children. Oscar's sexuality, however, led him into the arms of Lord Alfred Douglas and a bevy of male prostitutes. When Douglas' father insulted Oscar, the writer would not let it alone. He filed suit and the court testimony led to Oscar's conviction on charges of gross indecency.

Kilroy's play imagines the love triangle among Constance (Sarah Agnew), Oscar (Matthew Greer) and Douglas (Brandon Weinbrenner) as a product of obsession and each person's hatred of their father. If Kilroy overreaches, it is in two areas: that Oscar is Douglas' pawn, and that Oscar is anguished almost to paralysis because he betrayed his soulmate, Constance.

Nonetheless, the script is rich with ideas and elegant language. Lorca's staging flows beautifully, and the musical accompaniment by Andrew Cooke and Diane Tremaine becomes another character.

Agnew finds just the right mix of brittle self-loathing, strength and natural preservation in Constance. Weinbrenner's Douglas is a mincing pretty boy -- a distinct and strong flavor. Greer, however, lacks subtlety in his portrayal of Oscar. The performance is too aggressive up against Agnew's naturalism.

Again, do not enter hoping for white-clapboard biography. In its style, this dark flight of fancy is fascinating theater.

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© Copyright 2008, Yomiuri Shimbun