A Journey into Moral Chaos

By WILLIAM A. HENRY III

TITLE: AVEN'U BOYS

AUTHOR: FRANK PUGLIESE

WHERE: OFF-BROADWAY

THE BOTTOM LINE: Vivid vignettes of racial and sexual violence among the urban poor announce the arrival of a gifted writer.

Works of art about the underclass almost always entrap both creators and audiences in moral ambiguity. No matter how determined not to condescend, artists and spectators all but inevitably feel an anthropological distance from their subjects. This holds especially true in the theater, a medium the underclass is apt to avoid as alien and unaffordable. Certainly, few playgoers at Aven'U Boys, a violent and vivid series of vignettes set in Brooklyn, New York, that debuted off-Broadway last week, appear to share the despondent, nihilistic subliteracy of the title trio of Italian Americans in their late teens (played, with terrifying conviction, by actors looking a decade older).

Spectators may connect more easily with the wives and girlfriends, who are more self-aware and pragmatically optimistic. But from the opening, when the boys demonstrate masochistic macho by withstanding each other's punches, to the climax, when all three are beaten, bruised and begging for unattainable forgiveness from their women, Aven'U Boys is a voyeur's journey into moral chaos. Sex is easy and often kinky -- the toughest of the boys has a secret taste for transvestites and whippings -- but in this world, love is an embarrassment.

In tempo, fervor and construction, the piece resembles rock video. There is little plot and less sequence: it is hard to distinguish the present from the profuse flashbacks, yet it doesn't seem to matter. This may not be a cohesive play, but Frank Pugliese, 29, has the distinctive voice and emotive power of a true playwright. His unifying theme is race. Before the action begins, the boys have fatally stomped a black man who invaded their turf to buy a sandwich. They seem capable of redemption: the brightest (Adrian Pasdar) falls passionately if shamefacedly for a black woman (Cynthia Martells). But in this hateful world any such union is doomed. Its miserable end is a reminder that integration has failed, that Brooklyn and many places like it remain ready to explode.