Lanford Wilson was once called "the American Chekov," although I think the mention referred to the "Star Trek" character rather than the "Three Sisters" creator.

Meaning that his numerous plays, even the prize-winning ones, are reflections of the popular culture of the times rather than attempts to explain and explore it.

Case in point: "Burn This," a two-act controversial shocker in 1987 with its "Will and Grace" treatment of gays in New York, salty language and plentiful sex coming during the Puritanical conservative era of Ronald Reagan.

But it offers strong, vivid characters, which is why it attracted David Conrad, the Pittsburgh veteran of stage and screen. The role of Pale is irresistible to strong male actors -- primal, dangerous, physical and requiring a well-toned body.

Thus enter Conrad, who is staging, directing and starring in "Burn This," his independent production at the New Hazlett Theater on the North Side.

Named for his favorite booze, VSOP (very superior old pale) brandy, Pale embodies Wilson's version of a modern American Caliban driven by impulse rather than intellect.

He bursts unannounced into the well-ordered world of dancer-choreographer Anna, her stereotypically gay roommate Larry, and her careful, controlled boyfriend, Burton.

Conrad has assembled a very superior team of actors and technical crew, largely from the Pittsburgh theater community. His "Burn This" holds its own with the city's leading companies, both in production values and polished, yet strong performances.

The single-set -- Anna and Larry's New York apartment -- is a theatrical production in itself. Conceived and executed by Douglas McDermott of Clear Story Creative, it combines the bare brick back wall of the 19th-century building with the 21st-century technical feature of video projection showing the changing views of the city and the river through a large arched window.

Set in the spartan open room that doubles as Anna's dance studio, the effect instantly says "New York."

Wilson, however, isn't known for his Big Apple sensibilities, placing most of his works in Middle America. Pale's initial rant, first of many, is a sweeping foul-mouthed condemnation of New Yorkers' car-parking etiquette. He sounds much like a rude Midwesterner encountering the city for the first time.

Pale is nuts. He's crazed with grief over the death of his younger brother, Robby, Anna's partner in choreography, a loss that has devastated her as well.

As Anna, Pittsburgh stage newcomer Kate Campbell, pale and willowy, counters Conrad's wild man with a quiet, brave resistance, a resistance we all know is futile in the presence of such a testosterone storm.

Another Pale opposite is Burton the boyfriend, a wealthy screenwriter who holds his hormones in check. Peter Kope, co-founder of Attack Theatre, embodies Burton's WASP reserve, but even his cool boils over in Pale's presence.

Handling Larry, Wilson's comic relief role with just the correct lilt, is Patrick Jordan, founder of barebones productions.

Some of Conrad's approaches to this predictable soap opera need more work, from his modern-dance moves to a clunky version of "Clair de Lune" on the piano.

You see, Pale is an artist at heart, just like Robby, but since he's not gay like his dead brother, he substitutes macho swagger. Love, says Wilson, allows him to "get in touch" with his inner soulful man, a bit of touchy-feely fluff that seemed original at the time, but feels dated today.

Wilson's ancient message aside, "Burn This" teems with energy and skill, drawing on the reservoir of the theater talent living here.