I THOUGHT of this play as a piece of enticing, sleek underwear beneath a few layers of rough, gawky sweaters. Walking into the theater, you're assaulted by too-cute pre-show banter between a couple of improv elves. Then Happy Happy Happy begins with a sudden monologue (performed strikingly by J. C. McClure) that sets the hyperbolic/cruel/comic tone of the play. It's an interesting structural feature, because most of the rest of the play's dialogue comes stinging out in little quick shards from the six characters of a patently horrid family. The psychodrama that unfolds is part angry diatribe against evil moms and part twisted drawing-room (Christmas) comedy, but the real fun and strength of the production lies in bizarre one-liners and dialogue that's simply NOT the way people talk--rather, it leans toward surreal, stylized parody in which characters blurt out lines that come from the unconscious thoughts, desires, and jealousies that everyone has and hides. When the mother greets her son-in-law at the door with, "Hello, Ted. I understand you're a homosexual now," the playwright veers into the surrealist's tradition while gluing the pieces together with familiar psychology. This sense of absurdity echoes into the plot, which involves the son-in-law having some kind of vague embolism, then falling face first into the Christmas tree--an event which, treated so drolly by the rest of the characters, is really pretty amusing.

Unfortunately, Kelleen Conway Greenfield's short, layered lines demand continuous fast-paced delivery, and the actors as a group don't keep up. Director Ethan Savaglio lets uncomfortable gaps settle in, disrupting what could be a slightly vertiginous spell of language. Meghan Shalom Arnette, last seen in Seattle Public Theatre's Ghetto, grounds this production (along with McClure) with a fetching characterization of a daughter trapped in a hideous family. Greenfield's future projects could grow into something formidably creepy. A playwright to watch.