And he is certainly not exalting the teller of stories as a morally superior being. The play's protagonist, Katurian (Mr. Crudup, in a first-class performance), is a touchy, arrogant fellow, whose 400 short pieces of fiction (all but one unpublished) might be read, to borrow from the play, as a how-to guide of "101 ways to skewer a 5-year-old."  The stories' existence are what have landed Katurian and his mentally defective brother Michal (Michael Stuhlbarg) in prison, since the killings described in his simply told fables have been replicated in the town where they live. The team of policemen who interrogate Katurian -- the sardonic Tupolski (Mr. Goldblum) and his explosive associate, Ariel (Zeljko Ivanek) -- aren't entirely off base in their disdain for what their prisoner has written.  Artistic merit, however, is irrelevant here. So, for that matter, is fiction's significance as social commentary, autobiographical revelation or metaphysical map. As Katurian exclaims in exasperation, "I'm not trying to say anything at all."  For what "The Pillowman" is celebrating is the raw, vital human instinct to invent fantasies, to lie for the sport of it, to bait with red herrings, to play Scheherazade to an audience real or imagined. For Mr. McDonagh, that instinct is as primal and energizing as the appetites for sex and food. Life is short and brutal, but stories are fun. Plus, they have the chance of living forever.  Every character in "The Pillowman" is some kind of storyteller. The narrative styles range from Katurian's gruesome fairy tales (which, in successive coups de théâtre, assume wondrous storybook life before our eyes) to the deceptions practiced by the policemen; from the official, torture-punctuated interrogation that is the play's motor to Ariel's unexpected, maudlin fantasy of what his old age might be like.  These forms of fiction are infused with the same dynamic, wherein information is parceled out in teasing increments and the line between fact and falsehood keeps shifting. The relationship between narrator and listener has its sadomasochistic aspects. And on one level "The Pillowman" recalls what the French director Henri-Georges Clouzot said about his 1955 cinematic chiller, "Diabolique": "I sought only to amuse myself and the little child who sleeps in all our hearts -- the child who hides her head under the bedcovers and begs, 'Daddy, Daddy, frighten me."'  Under the carefully measured direction of Mr. Crowley -- with brilliant production work by a team that includes, in addition to Mr. Pask, Brian MacDevitt (lighting), Paul Arditti (sound) and Paddy Cunneen (music) -- the cast members act out different degrees of that relationship, as the characters tantalize one another in ways friendly, consoling, manipulative and vicious.  Mr. Goldblum and Mr. Ivanek turn the classic good cop/bad cop formula into a coruscating vaudeville routine. Mr. Goldblum's trademark deadpan wryness has rarely been put to better use, as his Tupolski toys with Katurian like a jaded latter-day version of the police inspector in Dostoyevsky's "Crime and Punishment." Mr. Ivanek, in turn, comes up with delicious variations on the cliché of the combustible, torture-happy cop with a secret past. Their dialogue is appallingly funny, and endlessly quotable, but never out of sync with their characters.  The relationship between Katurian and his brother, the childlike Michal, is mostly rooted in a more amiable storytelling, as befits a fraternal relationship in which one sibling assumes the parental role. (What happened to Katurian's and Michal's Mom and Dad is, well, another story, and it is divulged in several versions.) Mr. Stuhlbarg boldly and expertly captures both the innocence and ugliness of Michal.  Mr. Crudup's finely chiseled features turn out to be ideal for registering the seductiveness, defensiveness and pure vanity of an artist for whom writing means even more than the brother he has protected for many years. Katurian's self-enchanted satisfaction when he tells a story is that of a young magician, pulling off a tricky sleight of hand. And Mr. Crudup makes it clear that the flame of anger burns brightest in Katurian when his stories are criticized or threatened with extinction.  An academic could make endless hay out of this play's narrative complexities and literary evocations (they notably include Kafka as well as Dostoyesvky), just as a sociologist or psychologist could go on about the sources and effects of fiction and its moral responsibility. You could even make a pretty thorough case for "The Pillowman" as an artistic apologia of sorts, directed at those who have dismissed Mr. McDonagh's previous works, set in a mayhem-prone rural Ireland, as pointlessly sensational and whimsical.  But to pursue these lines of thought is to fall into the very traps Mr. McDonagh has set to mock such analysis. Asked by Tupolski to explain symbols and subtext in one of his stories, Katurian answers, "It's a puzzle without a solution." Which is pretty much Mr. McDonagh's credo. But, oh, how he enjoys his puzzles. In this season's most exciting and original new play, he makes sure that we do, too.  'The Pillowman' By Martin McDonagh; directed by John Crowley; sets and costumes by Scott Pask; lighting by Brian MacDevitt; sound by Paul Arditti; music by Paddy Cunneen; production manager, Arthur Siccardi; general management, Nina Lannan Associates; fight director, J. Steven White; production stage manager, James Harker. The National Theater's production presented by Boyett Ostar Productions, Robert Fox, Arielle Tepper, Stephanie P. McClelland, Debra Black, Dede Harris/Morton Swinsky, Roy Furman/Jon Avnet, in association with Joyce Schweickert. At the Booth Theater, 222 West 45th Street, (212)239-6200. Running time: 2 hours 45 minutes.  WITH: Jeff Goldblum (Tupolski), Billy Crudup (Katurian), Zeljko Ivanek (Ariel), Michael Stuhlbarg (Michal), Ted Koch (Father), Virginia Louise Smith (Mother), Jesse Shane Bronstein (Boy) and Madeleine Martin (Girl).
Ben Brantley reviews Martin McDonagh play The Pillowman, directed by John Crowley; Jeff Goldblum and Billy Crudup star; photos (M)