"The Woods" is a soporific drama by David Mamet, soporifically performed at the Source Theatre's Warehouse Rep by Deborah Hale and Robert Bullington, two young actors who are in way over their heads.

As a pair of lovers spending a night in a remote cabin, they make love, fight and then reconcile, all the while floundering through dialogue that sounds as if it had been directly transcribed from a particularly obtuse session of group therapy. More gifted performers might be able to give a backbone to this meandering work by emphasizing its subtext of insecurity and fear. But this production, directed by Janet Stanford, sticks pretty close to the amorphous surface of things.

The woman observes that "I used to say we are all fish beneath the sea," which may be one explanation for the prevailing murkiness. Apparently, Mamet's creatures, urban dwellers, are trying to grope their way back to a natural state, as clean and spontaneous as the great outdoors they find themselves in. But line after line tells us precious little about these lost souls. "So little counts, Nick. Just the things we do to each other," she moans. "We can't know ourselves," he moans.

Fortunately, they also slap each other around, which momentarily brings the audience, if not the play, to life.