Ashley Larson directs the show and — while it is recommended for mature audiences — it's tamer than a lot you see on your home television.

Nearly 2,500 years old, "The Cyclops" is the only complete text of a satyr play to have survived, but enough is known of its genre to characterize the plays as short, bawdy and comic relief to the traditional heavy drama of Greek tragedy.

They usually featured drinking, sex, jokes and large phallic props.

Most of the time, they included a chorus of satyrs — gentle, but fun-loving creatures that reveled in their physicality and enjoyed it to excess. They are usually half-man and half-goat, although sometimes half-horse.

In this production, they're shirtless half-goats, with jelled hair, fluffy tails, and painted feet. And while "The Cyclops" tells the story of how Greek hero Odysseus foils the one-eyed monster that threatened to eat him, the satyrs have the most fun and supply the best part of the comedy.

Chi Ho Law, Tri Le and Joshua Greenspoon kick up their hooves with wild, tumbling dances that give them the look of frolicking young pups, but project enough genuine innocence to make their pelvic thrusts as inoffensive as if they were embracing their master's leg.

Aito Steele is in crafty contrast to the youngsters in his role of Silenus, servant to the Cyclops and a satyr with several years and a good deal of poundage under his belt. Silenus is a liar and a cheat and unsavory in an appealing sort of way.

Ryan Wuestewald is a self-absorbed Odysseus in leather pants, black shirt, and a suggestively dangling key ring, while Chris Doi plays the Cyclops in a suit of drab underwear and a facial prosthesis that looks like an early reject from "Phantom of the Opera."

Curiously, the only woman in the show is Carolyn Covalt, who plays Odysseus' Man in a bit of unexplained cross-gender casting.

The dialogue, as translated by Paul Roche, has a modern ring, but formal overtones and the action — true to ancient Greek requirements — puts the violent scenes offstage.

So when the Cyclops bashes out the brains and slits the throat of a couple of Odysseus' crew, it happens inside a cave and out of view. When Odysseus puts out the Cyclops' only eye with a red-hot poker, we see the after effects in terms of a red-stained undershirt and considerable howling.

Larson also uses some staging economies, like eliminating the ship's crew and substituting the satyrs for the sheep that let Odysseus pass by the blind Cyclops unnoticed.