One of the more daunting tasks for a male writer, at least this male writer, is to take on the assignment of writing roles for women. Not just our perception of women, but as true an approximation as we can muster, never having lived in their skin. Something that a skilled actress would find worthy of her time and talents. At the root of it, there’s always something else as well. I was reminded of it by an actress during a workshop of a musical I was working on recently. On a break she came up to me and said, “As I was reading the script, getting ready for rehearsal today, it struck me, ‘This guy must have been raised by some pretty remarkable women.’” On some level, when men write female characters well, it is a tribute to the women who gave us life and the women who raised us, the women we admire, the women without whom we wouldn’t be men at all.

Carlyle Brown’s play "Talking Masks," receiving its world premiere at Pillsbury House Theatre as a joint production with Carlyle Brown & Company, is such a tribute, and a very fine tribute at that.

The evening is collection of six very different scenes, all spotlighting the talents of Obie Award-winning actress Louise Smith in a half-dozen widely disparate roles - the abandoned “other woman,” an escaped slave masquerading as a white man, a white woman who identifies as black, a burlesque diva, a meek but murderous mother, and a woman coming to grips with her true face as she begins to age.

Though the script was written with her in mind, Ms. Smith is not alone on stage by any means. Only one of the scenes is a solo piece. In all others, she is part of an adept trio which features the wide range of skills offered by James A. Williams and Gwendolyn Schwinke.

There’s a reason that Pillsbury House Theatre was recently lauded as the Best Theatre for New Work in the City Pages. They give a play the kind of staging it needs. The play just previous to this in their current season, Caryl Churchill’s "Far Away," asked its audience to fully enter the dark and peculiar world which was presented. Carlyle Brown’s direction of his play "Talking Masks" takes the opposite approach.

The audience is never allowed to forget that they are observing theater, that they are taking part in a collaborative experience. The scaled down production values put the words and the actors on full display, and insists that the audience be equal participants, bringing their imagination to bear to fill out the details of the world presented on a black stage floor, with only dark curtains as a backdrop. The title of each sequence is presented on a sign resting on an easel, always in view as the action takes place. The play has its own live soundtrack, composed for the production, ably performed by Molly Sue McDonald on violin in full view of the audience. Again, we are not encouraged to lose ourselves in the music and merely listen, we must observe. Even the scene changes are performed. Stage hand Lori M. Neal is not a faceless worker scurrying around in the dark who we are not supposed to see. She takes her time, in half light, and we sense even her personality in the time between each episode. In the burlesque sequence, the black curtain is deliberately parted and left open so we can see the unadorned backstage world of the theater as well. The idea of theater as an art form is stripped down to its essence and laid before us. Rather than feeling cheated by a “lack” of production values, this approach makes the evening that much more engaging.

Nothing is what you expect it to be. “The Human Voice,” which opens the evening, seems as if it will be a one-sided phone call monologue. Before it is over, the call has been handed back and forth between two characters, and interrupted by a third party, before returning again to where it started. During that time, we get a clear picture of two fractured relationships, and the inklings of a third. All accomplished with almost no instances in which any character responds to another directly.

The high comedy of the next segment, “Runaway Honeymoon,” never quite lets you forget that the audience is also being presented with a quite clever take on the roles played by white and black, man and woman, husband and wife, master and slave. The liberal use of the word “nigger” prompted an unusual response in this audience member. Even though I knew that the two white actresses had full “permission” to use the word, coming as it did from the hands of an African-American writer and director, it was never something I was comfortable with, despite the comedy which still allowed me to laugh. The word remained loaded. Still, this scene was one of the most charming, funny and uplifting of the evening - a strange mix indeed.

“White Girl From the Projects,” Ms. Smith’s solo turn of the evening, was full of brash and surprising humor, and humanity. The title says it all. It’s the theatrical equivalent of jumping off a cliff without a net, and Louise Smith not only lands squarely on her feet, she does it in grand style.

“The Diva Makes Her Entrance” is most notable for the trick of carrying on two plays simultaneously. While our primary attention is focused backstage on the two burlesque performers preparing to go on, at the same time James A. Williams, as master of ceremonies, is performing a piece of his own onstage, and never misses a beat. Though I couldn’t tell you exactly what he was doing, as I was seated on the opposite end of the auditorium from him, I’ve no doubt that those seated in front of him were enjoying an entirely different show.

The apparent police interrogation which is the setup for “Mother Love” turns out not to be quite the point of the scene at all. It is the one piece of the evening that I couldn’t quite figure out, and yet it’s the one that I continue to mull over a day later.

The close of the evening, “The Talking Mask,” is perhaps the most theatrical turn of all - all three cast members in dark clothing, and a mask which seems to have a life of its own. Louise Smith’s manipulation of the mask often seems to defy gravity, and James A. Williams and Gwendolyn Schwinke interact with the mask in a way that makes us believe it, too, is human. It is a wonder to watch.

By setting the bare bones of theatre and all its tricks out in front of the audience, Carlyle Brown & Company make our appreciation of it that much greater.

“I was raised by three women, my mother and my grandmother and my aunt, and if these stories came from anywhere, they came from them,” Carlyle writes in the program, concluding with, “And so it is my hope, as a writer and a son, that all of these short plays will have something to say to every woman.”

I can’t speak for women, but the playwright/director and his collaborators certainly said something to me - and I’m glad I had the chance to hear it. I recommend you do, too.

"Talking Masks" runs Wednesdays through Saturdays until May 29, 2004 at Pillsbury House Theatre (3501 Chicago Avenue South in Minneapolis). Tickets are $15 Thursdays through Saturdays; Wednesdays are pay what you can performances. Call 612-825-0459.