The conceit of Scottish playwright Linda McLean's 2007 play is intriguing, getting us to know one person through her
interactions with five others. That those five all happen to be men is no coincidence. The character is May, and the play's
five scenes have something in common besides her: All involve either strangers or babies. May feels compelled to rescue a
baby bird against her husband's stern admonishments. She visits her cranky dad in the hospital, who makes no secret of
his disappointment in her, after his initially being taken with her as an infant. In a clandestine hotel-room rendezvous,
she meets up with a chatroom buddy. She tells her estranged brother she's expecting a baby. She hovers over her napping
toddler, fretting over an unannounced afternoon intrusion by an officious Child Protection Office drone, hoping to spare
her son the fate of being unloved by one's parents.

McLean's text is anything but pop psychology, for we all know the extremes humans can go to if insufficiently loved as children.
Tightly directed by Dave Barton in a three-quarter-round staging that Americanizes the text just enough to make it accessible, the work's U.S. premiere presents McLean's dry observations of human nature in the most matter-of-fact way. Brenda Kenworthy reveals just enough of May's personality so that by the final scene, we recognize ourselves in her: a good person trapped in a passionless existence, trying to do right by others while desperately trying to hold it together for herself. Jay Michael Fraley's Dan, May's husband, is the realistic yin to May's idealistic, humanistic yang. Rick Koppsis May's angry, red-faced hospice-patient Dad, revealing a half-dozen emotions in roughly 10 minutes. Kane Anderson, Frank Aranda,and Christopher Basile round out a solid cast that merges with thetext to paint recognizable figures in short, deft, effectivestrokes.

Presented by and at the Rude Guerrilla Theater Company,
202 N. Broadway, Santa Ana.
Thu.-Sat. 8 p.m. (Also Sun. 2:30 p.m. May 11.)Apr. 11-May 17.
(714) 547-4688. www.rudeguerrilla.org.

What effect does child neglect have once the victimized child has become an adult? Scottish playwright Linda McLean offers one possible outcome in "strangers, babies," a trenchant work that's part character study, part mystery.

The character being studied is May. We see her in five different settings with five different men, including her husband, dad and
brother – yet much of the dialogue is cryptic, leaving the nimbleminds of audience members to fill in the gaps.

In its U.S. premiere, the 2007 play is deftly directed by Dave Barton in a semi in-the-round staging at Rude Guerrilla Theater Company. Brenda Kenworthy, who has made her mark upon several outstanding RGTC productions, underplays the difficult role of May, who does her best to remain cheerful regardless of circumstance, a tack that requires her to be non-confrontational no matter what.

The price she pays by not asserting herself is a steep one. McLean is keeping something crucial from us. Precisely what that is doesn't dawn on us until the intermission-less, nearly 90-minute production nears its conclusion.

We first see May in a rather prosaic setting with her husband, Dan(Jay Michael Fraley). As they relax over coffee and the Sunday morning newspaper, May nurtures an injured baby bird that has settled into the bird feeder May has placed on the balcony of their condo.

McLean presents a classic battle: Dan's realism versus May's idealism. Fraley projects dry sarcasm (Dan calls his wife "a do-
gooding sentimental civilian") and Kenworthy, intelligence and loquaciousness. Dan, though, aims to protect May in much the same way she wishes to protect the bird.

May's visit with her dad, Duncan (Rick Kopps), at a hospice, offer the first clues that something isn't quite right with the "too
cheerful" woman.

Hooked up to a morphine drip, Duncan is glum and irritable. While Kenworthy shows May as the eternal optimist, Kopps displays his seething anger and a perverse streak (for example, he wants May to watch him squirm in pain). Duncan is clearly disgusted with his daughter. Over what, we have yet to discover.

Visits with an online chat room buddy (Christopher Basile), a scornful, uptight brother (Kane Anderson) and the stickler from
Social Services (Frank Aranda) who has dropped in to check up on May's toddler son begin to reveal that May is, in actuality,
seriously disturbed.

McLean's penetrating script drily observes human nature, prompting us to chuckle at traits we recognize in ourselves and others, though we're also just as likely to grimace. Following the playwright's lead, Barton and company work around the edges first, showing May's desperation in sparing her young son the fate suffered by her and her brother. Pop psychology this ain't, for everyone knows the extremes to which human beings can go if not loved sufficiently as children.

Barton Americanizes the text only as much as is necessary to make it comprehensible. Still, "strangers, babies" may be too cryptic for its own good, which means there's always a chance each audience member will interpret it differently.

Compounding this pitfall are casting-related snags. Because Kopps and Kenworthy look roughly within the same age bracket, it isn't apparent, until a good deal of the way through their scene, that Duncan is May's father, negating Kopps' otherwise starkly effective performance.

By the same token, Kenworthy is so placid and rational aside Anderson that his portrayal of her finicky, thin-skinned sibling, by
comparison, bespeaks agitation, geekiness and just plain not fitting in. May's husband must understand his wife's sickness, yet Fraley's reading of Dan's protectiveness rings more of the man's patronizing her when it should offer some hint of his sense of alarm.

All things considered, that makes Basile and Aranda's renderings the most effective. There's something just off enough about Basile'swimpy Roy that signals creepiness, and he and Kenworthy nicely capture the awkwardness of strangers in the midst of becoming acquainted.

Aranda shows that his character's concern, which borders onsuspicion, is certainly justified. May has become a smothering,
overprotective parent, and Kenworthy and Barton are careful to showher conflicting emotions and the rage that still boils beneath a façade that rationalizes her every move.

Kenworthy is a calm, grounded, centered actor, and in this case that works against what director and playwright are trying to accomplish. Try as she might, Kenworthy can only go so far in convincing us that what the emotionally scarred May wants us to see isn't exactly close to the reality of who she is.

Intriguing despite however possibly confusing, "strangers, babies"takes an unconventional approach to its subject: A portrait of a woman drowning in hopelessness, rage and despair, determined to manufacture a life preserver out of optimism even when nothing aboutthat approach makes sense.

Women are not usually the perpetrators of molestation crimes. There are certainly no discussions of female children who abuse and molest other children. "Bad" women usually remain in the shrewish, manipulative and emotionally abusive "moms" category (moms who sometimes kill their kids, of course). Even then, the abusive mom's behavior is rarely linked back to the seeds of abuse she experienced as a child herself; this lineal investigation is usually reserved for male perps, probably because men still molest more often than women. It's still difficult to imagine a little girl could do such damage—except for that tap-dancing darling Rhoda from The Bad Seed,but she was a sociopath, and that was just a movie, right? Maybe.

Tackling largely invisible societal issues is what director Dave Barton does best, and in his Rude Guerrilla production of Strangers,
Babies, written by Scottish playwright Linda McLean, he once again hauls out our dirty laundry for a fascinating, if unnerving,
inventory.

Broken down into five scenes, Babies glimpses the life of May (Brenda Kenworthy), a very troubled (but not quite Rhoda-esque)
woman with a terrible secret—child abuse. Though at first we're unsure if May was abused as a child or if she abused other children when she was a child, we pretty much figure it out as we see how the abuse translates into May's adult life. And boy, does it.

The first segment, "Greenstick Fracture," shows us May's humanity—her obsession with caring for hurt things, in particular, like a
traumatized bird that's landed on her balcony. It's one big, analogous scene, but at this point, since we don't know anything
about May or her husband Dan (Jay Michael Fraley), all we get is that May can be really, really annoying. In hindsight, of course,
it's clear: May is overcompensating for past crimes. But watching a metaphor when you don't have the other half can be draining and dull. Fortunately, the remaining scenes kick it all into high gear.

"The Very Smell" shows us May's strained relationship with her dying father, who seems to know about the abuse in some aspect and blames her for it. In "Breasts and Etcetera," May seeks out her own karma, embarking on a scrappy, adulterous affair with a guy whom she met in an online chat room who likes to hurt women. She wants him to beat the hell out of her, but when he asks if she'll return the favor,she declines—she's "done hurting people."

In "Dark at Half Past Three," May meets her fairly schizophrenic brother Denis (a terrific Kane Anderson) in a park and tells him she and Dan are going to have a baby. Denis' violent reaction gives us more of the story—May abused him (and others, perhaps) when they were kids. Denis now steers clear of children, fearing he'll abuse them, and is convinced May should do the same.

In the last segment, "He's Asleep," May has had her baby and is receiving a routine visit from a children's social worker whose job
is to ensure May the perp isn't continuing the cycle. When he prods her, she gets defensive and weird, which makes him even more
suspicious. All the while, we can't decide if he's being a jerk orif she's really hiding something. Is May able to change? Is anyone?
It's frustrating and nerve-wracking—and makes for some damn fine drama. Being able to carry such a load of volatility and hurt for an entire play is no small feat, either, and Brenda Kenworthy is on top of her game, taking us by the hand and leading us into the darkest of emotional places. Thank God we have a nightlight.

Strangers, Babies at Rude Guerrilla, 200 N. Broadway, Santa Ana,
(714) 547-4688; www.rudeguerrilla.org. Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; also
Sun., May 11, 2:30 p.m. Through May 17. $20