You've got to sympathize with the devil. Especially if he comes from a dysfunctional family.

Evil has many faces in Nicky Silver's new iron-toothed comedy, but who is Silver's real devil? There are at least four strong candidates by the time the bodies stop piling up. There is the father, Arthur Duncan (Dennis Creaghan) who neglected his son, slept around to spite his wife and molested his daughter, Emma, throughout her childhood, leaving her short and long term memories permanently repressed. Or maybe the mother Grace Duncan (Marian Mercer) who molested her son, Todd (Christopher Collet), driving him to the street where he contracts AIDS. Or for that matter, the family friend, Tommy McKorckle, who sleeps with Todd despite his disease and then with Emma, his fiance, without bothering to wait for his test results. Both end up with AIDS as well as Emma's newly conceived child. The final candidate is Todd himself, who seduces Tommy, then gives Emma a gun when the tests come back positive, torments his father to the brink of madness and finally feeds his alcoholic mother enough whiskey to kill her.

Whomever Silver intends to be evil, imagery of death and dark forces bear heavily on the set and the plot as well. Emma sees Arthur in a dream as the devil with horns and cloven feet. But Todd emerges the more likely contender, with an irrepressibly destructive influence and inhuman discourse which portray him as some eternal diabolic force. Enigmatically, he informs his family, "I think I died long ago... I'll be here long after you're gone..." while erecting the skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex he mysteriously digs up in the back yard of the family mansion. The skeleton becomes a symbol of death and extinction, its reconstruction paralleling the demise of the family until in the final scene its imposing silhouette is cast against the bone-bare walls of the abandoned estate.

Thematically, Todd is the hero and no matter how evil he may be, Silver insists we show him some sympathy. For one thing. Todd is not directly responsible for anyone's death. He merely induces them to realize their self-destructive impulses. More importantly, he represents victimhood fighting back and settling scores with those who foiled his hopes for a happy existence.

For Silver, Todd is a dream of retribution come true. All those years of living life gay and castout by his Main Line banking father finally get cashed in with the opportunity to create purpose out of misery. The purpose is revenge; slow, torturous, deadly revenge. How satisfying to watch Grace race about the stage straightening and fussing, talking herself into a frenzy and pretending she cannot hear while Todd reiterates the four letter disease louder and louder. And for Dad, a full, five-year sexual history chock-full of moves that don't even sound fun for Todd suffocating in someone's butt? Some how just thinking about masochism gives Todd satisfaction. Screaming about it at Arthur is orgasmic redemption.

Death and extinction are supposed to tie in with the recurring and problematic dinosaur motif. While the others are doomed dinosaurs. Todd has set himself apart, a Pterodactyl among lizards destined for a different fate. He is slated to survive as something eternal; vigilance, vengeance, or perhaps something darker.

Part of his nature presents itself as a prophet whose choices are infallible Giving AIDS and a means to death is supposed to be a merciful end to Emma's worthless life. Giving her a gun as a gift anticipates her own desire to cut out before AIDS takes its toll. Posing as an expert on life, he spouts poetry with all sorts of pretentious and clumsy lines like "they could not hear his cries of sorrow." Evidently Silver intended a great deal with Todd's character, but his script trail him. some acceptable way of saying such silly things without cooing. Out of the struggle emerge two voices for Todd. One is angsty and rebellious, the other lilting and sentimental.

Under Mark Brokaw's direction, the first act races along as cynical and funny, never dull or heavy. Silver's language is innovative, and his humor refreshing and barbed with commentary. Regarding Harold Pinter's Birthday Party; Arthur: "Who'd you play?" Todd: "The rapist." Arthur: "You were ten!" Todd: "It was private school." Or Arthur fearing implication for his molestation of Emma: Emma: "I had a memory." Arthur: "Don't dwell."

But Silver's repartee is only emotional bait for his favorite technique shock. One wishes he had more confidence in his comedy to deliver his messages instead. Insofar as Pterodactyls is billed as a dark comedy, the comedy cannot be ignored, but by the end of the play you may forget it ever made you laugh.

Gloom never settled so quickly, before the foot lights as when Silver decides to preach issues. Pterodactyls does not descend emotional crests, it, plunges from them. In a Kathleen Turneresque growl, Grace bear down on Tommy with a triumphant speech, reaching the peak of her comic crescendo only to be interrupted by a gun discharging upstairs. Utter silence falls with the curtain as Todd intones. "Suddenly it became very cold." Manipulation reigns as Silver's king principle of craft.

Silver's life was personally touched when he lost a friend to AIDS some ten years ago, and he claims that ever since he has been trying periodically to find the emotional distance to write about the event. If Pterodactyls represents emotional distance to him, audiences will hope he lets his next personal project percolate a little longer.