Pentacle Theater's production of this play, as directed by Robert Herzog, has skillfully avoided the hues of misogyny and instead established a study of human psychology, of pain and fear, and the many subtle manifestations of weakness. There is sex in this play, boldly put forth by the actors with unselfconscious fervor. But there is no love at all, and no freedom. That lack is what propels the story.

Lesli Okorn portrays the aristocratic Miss Julie. She successfully begins the play as an adorably naughty child, thoroughly tangible and captivating.

Her brashness and humor, like her uncomfortably bright costuming, is a striking discrepancy to the bleak two-tone setting of the play. Okorn's only problem is that she really is funny, and as both the play and her character become dark and troubled, the comedienne is still pushing up from inside her, sometimes drawing inappropriate laughter from the audience.

Donald Williamson is Jean, Julie's father's valet and her own downfall. Williamson plays his character with powerful and believable sexuality.

Jean's masculinity is fueled by the energy and fear he has spent his life beating down, and Williamson does a good job alternately allowing and choking back those traits. Herzog and his crew have produced a 119-year-old play without any trace of pretension or condescension. The story is immediately accessible and engrossing, gossipy and sexy, progressing from that sturdy start into a complicated analysis of the frailty that exists in both men and women, servant and master. By shifting this focus, allowing Miss Julie strength and reason, Herzog has managed to turn the lens away from just the doomed heroine and out into a more universal study.