666 is set within the confines of a maximum security prison where four guys (Juan Ramos Toro, Raul Cano, Fidel Fernandez and Joseph Michael O'Curneen) seem to be awaiting execution. And while the mostly non-verbal proceedings, directed by David Ottone, cause theatergoers to cringe in their seats, the action is filled with an indefatigable energy and commitment that warrants a certain level of appreciation.
One sequence, entitled appropriately enough "Pissed off," finds two of the men smearing the "urine" from their bed pans over one another. In "Sweet Dreams," a prisoner is calmed by his fellow inmates after experiencing some nightmares (lit with effective eeriness by Herrick Goldman). This man's troubled sleep, though, is only replaced with something worse -- a cellblock rape that creepily (and offensively) is played as if such an event is the funniest thing on earth.
The four performers -- impressively free of inhibition -- extend the humor to used condom sight-gags, complete with viscous white fluid that seeps from the latex to the stage floor and to a gorefest that finds one of the prisoners clumsily shaving a vain cop with an end result that would make Sweeney Todd proud.
In one of the funnier sequences, a couple of the guys seem to elude their deaths on the gallows, a section that is made all the more intriguing by the visual of the guys seemingly floating in mid-air. But well before the men have donned the giant satyr-like phalluses that are part of the show's excruciatingly over-extended finale, some theatergoers might find themselves wondering whether losing one's head might be preferable to the truly deadly experience of watching this witless show.