THERE'S A CHILL IN THE AIR IN 'BOSTON'.

Byline: Katherine Karlin Correspondent

A BOSTON MARRIAGE, in Edwardian times, was an arrangement of two unmarried, upper-class women pooling their resources and living together. And ``Boston Marriage,'' David Mamet's play onstage at the Geffen, combines his fast-paced dialogue with droll drawing-room comedy.

But don't expect Oscar Wilde. It doesn't take long for the ladies of ``Boston Marriage'' to remove their opera gloves and bear their talons. The lowlifes of ``Glengarry Glen Ross'' have nothing on these women.

Anna (Mary Steenburgen) has recently secured a ``protector'' who can provide financial security for herself and her longtime, slightly younger friend, Claire (Rebecca Pidgeon). But Claire has fallen in love with an even younger girl, and Anna's fragile stability is threatened. As the two talk and talk about their predicament, the unhappy maid (Alicia Silverstone) totters in and out, nearly crumbling under the abuse her mistresses ladle out.

It's all very witty, particularly when Anna hurls image-rich anti-Irish invectives at the maid (who is Scottish). But somewhere in the middle of the second act, particularly when the lights go up on Anna and Claire - dressed as clairvoyants in gypsy costumes and sad little hats while waiting for their respective lovers - we realize that these two are less like Gwendolen and Cecily of ``The Importance of Being Earnest,'' and more like Vladimir and Estragon of ``Waiting for Godot,'' trapped with each other in an endless cycle of boredom, intimacy and pressing grains of salt into each other's wounds. Take away the Boston part. Take away, in fact, Debra McGuire's sumptuous period clothing. This is a play about marriage.

And a bleak view it is. Behind Anna's digs about Claire's rampant carnality, and Claire's barbs about Anna's age, contempt and co-dependency struggle for dominance. These two can't live without each other, but they can't live without hurting each other, either, or when that wears thin, pummeling the maid. Mamet's language is as colorful as ever - and you might be surprised how natural some of his racier vocabulary sounds in this setting - as the characters go off on rants about the proper pastry for a seduction scene (``Stress,'' Anna says, ``cannot exist in the presence of a pie'') or the destructive properties of water on velvet. But the shower of words cannot hide the desperation of these women's lives.

That's not to say the play isn't very funny, but if it were strictly a comedy of manners, we would be left wondering what the point is. Satirizing turn-of-the-last-century etiquette just doesn't have the zing it used to. Instead, Mamet pokes fun at the purgatory we create for ourselves, no matter our dress or gender.

Steenburgen channels Katharine Hepburn here; she's got the Yankee lockjaw down pat. She's got the cheekbones, too. But her finest moments come when she drops the gimmick. When it looks as if she's about to lose Claire, her face dissolves in a dreamy melancholy that cuts through the clever banter.

Pidgeon, on the other hand, seems more at home in the parlor-comedy genre and depends on bits like raising a lorgnette to her nose. But Claire never comes across as a full character, and certainly not as the sexually driven creature that Anna describes.

Both actors owe 50 percent of their performances to Debra McGuire's wigs. These aren't hairdos. They're monuments. Carefully constructed and about to come undone, they are as wobbly as the women beneath them.

The maid's name is Catherine, although, in a running gag, Anna calls her by every other name she can think of. Silverstone may not have the most authentic accent, but her face is a fine comic instrument. Her lips are cast down at the corners, her forehead puckers in confusion, her eyes widen in worry.

Silverstone is a clown in the best tradition. When she curtseys for the ladies (another running gag), she teeters on one leg; she makes us wish Catherine's kitchen mishaps were not off stage. We hope to see Catherine give the ladies their comeuppance, but it never happens. It's not that kind of play. Catherine is, like Lucky in Beckett's ``Godot,'' a hapless comic whose nearly indecipherable ramblings shed light on the central relationship.

BOSTON MARRIAGE - Three stars

Where: Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood.

When: 7:30 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday, 8 p.m. Friday, 4 and 8:30 p.m. Saturday, 2 and 7 p.m. Sunday; through March 19.

Tickets: $35 to 69. [phone].

In a nutshell: Fast-paced parlor repartee cloaks a bleak heart.

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Photo:

The emotionally fragile Anna (Mary Steenburgen, left) and Claire (Rebecca Pidgeon) exchange affections - and barbs - in David Mamet's ``Boston Marriage,'' at the Geffen Playhouse.