John Cariani intends the title of cul-de-sac (all lower-case letters, very chic) to mean two things: the literal enclave where his three youngish married couples live and keep surreptitious track of one another, and the metaphorical dead-end into which they've driven their stagnating relationships. As the playwright unfolds this dark comedy, the title acquires an unfortunate third meaning: the cul-de-sac into which he writes himself.

Johnson, Smith, and Jones are the surnames of the three couples living in this suburban cul-de-sac, which Sandra Goldmark has designed with streamlined efficiency and R. Lee Kennedy has lit with a nod to Dan Flavin's eerily warm phosphorescence. These monikers [...]