Lea Greenblatt

Shannon, who spends almost every moment of the play either naked or in scant cotton boxers, brings kinetic physical energy to the role - a man so bursting with life that he might actually repel outerwear. He's overbearing and utterly charming, often at the same time. McDonald, resolutely stripped of glamor in her worn bathrobe and scrunchie, brings a sort of earthy dignity to a woman who would rather keep her heart behind bars than expose it to hurt again.

In director Michael Mayer's kinetic, consistently engaging production, though, it really is a piece for quatre: David Furr, as Anna's swaggering screenwriter boyfriend, Burton, and Brandon Uranowitz, as her wisecracking roommate Larry, aren't just foils; they're fully formed humans who may not be part of the story's central romance (or at least not on the winning end of the equation), but who consistently give the almost pathologically intense deux at its center light and air.

What makes Beg memorable is the sheer overwhelming talent of the cast. Even if no one character has enough time or space in the script to fill in the contours of a full personality beyond a few fast details - baritone Otis Williams liked his suits electric blue; Falsetto king Eddie Kendricks got the nickname Corn because he... loved cornbread! - they can still bring every sweet harmony and cross-step.