Harsh ëMilkí Studio Theatre Pulls No Punches Depicting Post-Communist Russia by Lisa Troshinsky The name isnít the only thing intriguing about "Black Milk," now showing at the Studio Theatre. Part of Studioís Russian Winter Season, this Vassily Sigarev winner, translated by Sasha Dugdale, is billed as a political drama about life in post-communist Russia. But it is far more. What gives the plays its deadly kick is the dysfunctional relationship of a young, married couple against the backdrop of a disillusioned and suffering country. Holly Twyford and Matthew Montelongo play hip, slick, urban con artists Shura and Lyovchik from Moscow, who have ventured to rural Russia to rip off unsophisticated and unknowing peasants. A very pregnant Shura and her male cohort mistreat the locals by scamming them into buying fancy kitchenware and by taunting them. But once alone in a room, they turn on each other with vulgarities, accusations and demands. Tough-talking, street-savvy Shura is a perfect role for Twyford, reminiscent of her part as a "wronged" and politically correct university student in David Mametís "Oleanna" at the Source Theatre. Although Twyford gets much work in the D.C . theater community in a variety of parts, she excels in portraying dark victimization, and it is a treat to see her cast appropriately in this production. With her spiky hair and flamboyant ensemble stretched over her protruding tummy, she spends her time on stage sucking on "menthols" and lollypops and feuding with her husband. Montelongo, with his trendy mohawk, cherished leather jacket and huge bags of stolen goods, seamlessly moves back and forth between sympathetic youthfulness and scary violence. The fact that the two click as well as they do is attributable to director Serge Seiden, but it may also be because they starred together last year in Studio Theatreís successfully haunting "Far Away." Skillful playwright Sigarev also does a good job at keeping the audience on its toes. Although the script is comical at timesóTwyford maneuvers her heavy baby load as would Lucille Ball in a playful row with Rickyóit is also extremely serious material, and Studio Theatre runs with the challenge. Sigarev keeps most of the tension in Act I between the couple and the locals. Act II throws the plot on its head, when Shura has the baby and becomes attached to the kind townswoman who delivers her child, thus disturbing the dangerous balance of control between her and Lyovchik. Most depressing plays give comic relief to throw the audience off course. Anne Stone, who plays the ticket clerk in the rural train station in which the couple finds themselves, is probably the best example of this technique. Unusually carefree under the circumstances, she has set up home in the rundown station in the middle of nowhere. With face cream on and sipping a Coke, she perches inside the glass ticket booth, which is a front for her business of selling homemade vodka to her neighbors. The fact that a drunk lies sleeping on the floor beneath newspapers is something she points to as representing her successful business. Meanwhile, the con-artist couple have been busy selling the peasants overpriced toasters for which they have no bread. The scene in which a group of angry townspeople bursts into the train station, each carrying a toaster, chanting, "People united," is pure shtick. After an angry communist demands his money back, with shotgun in hand, the ticket clerk jokingly says itís a good thing that his gun only has blanks. But Sigarev also plays with our emotions. No sooner have we had a good laugh when in walks an ominous older peasant woman, played by June Hansen. She is the archetypical old Russian woman, wrapped in a babushka, hugging her toaster close to her chest and demanding her money back to bury her "old man." Whether she is telling the truth or not, it paints an eerie picture, especially when the young coupleís cruelty is exposed by their cutthroat response. The comedy disappears completely in Act II, when we are sucked into this dismal world without reprieve. Perhaps the author wanted us to feel his pain, for the play is somewhat autobiographical. Sigarev grew up in the industrial Ural Mountain region of Siberia, a son of working-class parents. After the Soviet Union collapsed, he and others made a living digging bits of titanium out of the town factoryís waste heaps and selling them for profit. After the scrap metal ran out, the city suffered from widespread drug use, prostitution and AIDS. But whatever Sigarevís reason for writing it, "Black Milk" doubles as an important history lesson and a disturbing psychological view of people who canít dig their way out of moral and emotional hell. "Black Milk" runs through Feb. 13 at the Studio Theatre, 1333 P St., NW. Tickets are $35 to $48. For more information, please call (202) 332-3300 or visit www.studiotheatre.org. Lisa Troshinsky is the theater reviewer for The Washington Diplomat.