Mix Natalie Portman, Julia Roberts, Clive Owen and pretty boy Jude Law in any movie, and it’s bound to be labeled a romance. But this weekend’s stage production of “Closer” by Patrick Marber, directed by James Pollack ’09 — with its comparably attractive cast — has enough cock, cum, epic tits and British wit to keep even the least feminine of men entertained.

The show opens tonight at the Nick Chapel Theater in Trumbull College, which feels almost empty due to its minimalist set. With a few props and a big white screen as the backdrop, the barren stage forces you to focus on the four characters who form a love triangle, or rather, square. Though it is the willful women who rouse tears in the audience, it is surprisingly the men who take the most powerful presence on stage.

Though Pollack said he focused on using the original 1997 script, the play inevitably works in the shadow of the 2004 film of the same title, directed by Mike Nichols. Perhaps it is the play’s incorporation of a big screen slide show or the immediate reality of such a love story, but regardless, it’s easy to forget that you’re in a theater. The play becomes its own television set, boxed off from the rest of the world. The audience wants to root for Alice (Laura Bennett ’09), throw popcorn at Dan (Bobby Allen ’09), and make Anna (Becky Dinerstein ’09) and Larry (Michaael Eggleston ’10) work as a couple. They are strangers, thrown fatalistically into a love story together, and the audience can’t help but identify and get involved. But the play continues to move in unexpected ways, keeping the audience at a distance, anticipating the worst.

But at times the play loses steam and the dragging plot makes the audience forget to keep track of its solemnity. In one scene, Allen and Eggleston sit down for an anonymous cyber chat and the big screen reveals their humorous exchange through instant messaging. There are implications of masturbation, sexual favors and downright dirty online gestures, but the comedy lasts too long. Both actors are more engaging in their serious roles as conflicted men, not immature boys.

In fact, it is Allen’s British sophistication and Eggleston’s crude but sensitive demeanor that keeps the audience attentive. Sure, it’s the guys that screw up, but they also make everything better — the men are ultimately in control. There are moments of clarity when it is all too revealing that these men have real insecurities. They want to know the details: the size of his penis, the number of times she came and where they had sex. They want to not only aggressively internalize the pain of love but also assert it and demand, “Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me.” The men instill their own testosterone into a twisted romance, and somehow, it works.

The women serve to provoke their men into such energy. In the climax of the play before the intermission, Bennett breaks into a sob that is more than a cinematic cry. She screams out for comfort, to be babied in a bear hug, and Allen does just that by collecting her in his arms. The two hesitate over a passionate kiss, and in that moment, they betray the fickleness of physicality. In that fraction of a second, they both forget their sorrows and give in to the deceit of touch. Allen’s harsh coolness, “This is going to hurt,” and gentle return with a kiss reminds you of men’s power and how some women love it and hate it at the same time.

While the play dwells too long in some scenes, Pollack makes compelling work out of a good play. Though Yalies are often less than smooth in their encounters with the opposite sex, “Closer” brings together a cast that is physically in sync, especially in the kissing scenes. Take-home lesson: Making out doesn’t have to be awkward, even if it’s with strangers.