Cad meets wallflower in the stage drama 'Tryst'

Ladies, beware of sweet-talking strangers with Oedipal complexes. And gents, think twice before you woo lonely spinsters with a nice little nest egg, but major daddy problems.

Of course, if the characters in Karoline Leach's two-hander play "Tryst" heeded that advice, nothing would have come of their fraught speed-dating encounter.

Set in the early 1900s, "Tryst" toys with the well-worn conventions of Victorian-era British romantic-suspense drama. But it really belongs more in the realm of novelist Henry James, given its emphasis on the psychological kinks of two damaged people.

Roughly the first two-thirds of Seattle Public Theater's local premiere of Leach's well-traveled play keeps you guessing, as it follows the quasi-courtship of a plain young London hatmaker, Adelaide Pinchin (admirably played by Emily Chisholm), and her overeager pursuer, George Love (a suitably smarmy Brian Claudio Smith).

In the absorbing first act of Tim Hyland's staging, Adelaide and George take turns narrating the tale from their contrasting perspectives.

George preeningly informs us that he's a cad by profession, a con man who woos dowdy "spinsters," pretends to marry them and then makes off with their cash and valuables.

He's not just remorseless. He insists his marks should be glad he brings a dollop of joy — and sex — into their dowdy lives.

The mousy Adelaide fits his victim profile perfectly, so it seems. Her low self-confidence, tidy nest egg (a legacy from an aunt) and circumscribed life make her juicy game for a two-bit fortune hunter.

In Chisholm's beautifully calibrated performance, we see this wallflower open and blossom in the intense light of a man's interest.

That said, it strains credulity a bit that this sensible, intelligent woman would instantly turn over her bank account to George, who tells one whopper after another to gain her trust.

But on their (faux) wedding night, Adelaide exposes emotional scars that upset the power dynamic — and trigger some of George's own deep-seated anxieties.

Whether the playwright intended it or not, Smith's George is mostly laughable at first, with his dandy affectations and transparent lies. But the more psychologically entangled with Adelaide he becomes, the easier it is to take him seriously.

Hyland's well-measured, well-lit (by Richard Schaefer) and well-costumed (by Zoey Liedholm) production goes slack (or is it the play?) in a tiresome should-I-stay-or-should-I-go patch in Act 2.

And though childhood abuse may indeed be a common factor in psychosexual dysfunction, as a theatrical motive it's overused.

But no matter if we see it coming or don't, the finale of "Tryst" is genuinely unsettling. And it's good grist for after-show conversations.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com