Instead, the play collides the audience with the anger and disillusionment of two festering marriages. This is theater that goes for the jugular. If the caustic wit of a Neil LaBute in "The Mercy Seat" (recently performed by Epic) and the brutal verbal slap fight of an Edward Albee in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" are the types of drama that charge your batteries, then the relationship angst of "Orange Flower Water" is aimed at you.

The play, which unfolds in a series of two-person encounters between the four characters, encourages a boxing-ring mentality. (Ding! And the first round goes to .... ) As the scenes -- set mostly in bedrooms -- unfold, the two cast members who aren't on stage at the time hang out at the periphery of the action, always in sight of the audience, as if they have become temporary spectators as well.

For all its promise of high drama and relentless honesty, however, the production remains curiously inert -- or at least less vibrantly throbbing than you'd expect.

Set in a small town in which folks know each other's business, "Orange Flower Water" is the story of Beth (Danielle Jorn), a stay-at-home mom who is unhappily married to the troubled Brad (James Taylor), a mean and abusive video-store proprietor whose dour outlook and short temper makes him hard to live with. She has fallen in love with a local pharmacist, David (Adam Schroeder). When we first meet them, they're about to consummate their affair.

Giving in to their romantic feelings will destroy two marriages. David's wife, Cathy (Erica Johnston), a choir teacher, attributes the growing distance between her and her husband to the inevitable complexities of family life: not enough time, too many commitments. With sets of children on each side, the human toll in terms of emotional upheaval will be high.

Director Janine Christl, who has shown in the past that she's extremely adept at staging intimate, high-voltage dramas, never finds the explosiveness in this show that I think she'd like. In the first scene between David and Beth, for example, something about the writing and staging is miscalibrated. I'd expect a much higher level of sexual tension between two people about to move their relationship forward so irrevocably. The scene seems overly intellectual, as if the characters are engaged in a vigorous classroom debate about ethics and morality rather than making decisions that will affect the rest of their lives. Is this a deficiency of acting, directing or writing? Or is it an amazingly clever device by the playwright (who was a staff writer on the HBO series "6 Feet Under") as he spins a tale in which two unhappy people are simply desperate to get out of unfulfilling relationships? This is one of those cases where I can't even venture to tell, but all I know is that it just didn't seem to work.

Another intensely intimate scene later in the play, between David and Cathy, has the same sluggish feel. It teeters between searing and vacant -- and paced so languidly that its initial force (and even shock) dissipates into a sleepy solemnity.

These are challenging roles for actors. Each one, in his or her own way, wasn't quite ready to tackle them. Schroeder, Johnston and Taylor struggle at times to incorporate their characters' flaws and inconsistencies in believable ways.

There are flashes of solid theatricality, like a scene in which Schroeder and Taylor's characters awkwardly connect while watching their sons playing soccer. Schroeder's reluctant and uncomfortable clapping for the action on the field is in silky contrast to Taylor's menace as he disdainfully plays with his prey like a cat does a mouse.

Jorn comes closest to having a lock on her character -- particularly in a very fine moment in which Beth muses that once you cross the line from dreaming about something to actually committing to it, everything takes on a whole new shade of gray. "Everything actually has to happen, doesn't it?" asks Beth. "You think in your mind things can happen without happening, but in the end, they always have to actually happen."

Austin Frost, who coordinated the sound, pumps up the show with a series of terrific, mood-setting (and often jarring) songs, which often accompany movement by the actors. Even this aural flourish is a little miscalibrated. It's too ornamented. Most of the musical interludes go on far too long, leaving the cast almost dawdling in accompaniment.

"Orange Flower Water" is the last production from Epic Theatre, which Christl is shutting down to focus on other local theater projects. I'm very sorry to see this company go. Even though I didn't quite connect with this particular play, I always knew that an Epic play meant an interesting evening. It was a pleasure getting to know a theater that stages such provocative and challenging fare. Here's hoping similar shows from other companies can continue to follow.