By Rebecca Gilman. Directed by Liesl Lafferty. An Evolving Arts Collective production. At the Beaumont Stage on Friday, December 5. Continues until December 20

Here’s an early Christmas present for you: a little black box full of excellent acting. The tiny Beaumont Stage remains largely unknown to Vancouver theatregoers, but it consistently showcases some of the best performers in the city.

In Rebecca Gilman’s The Sweetest Swing in Baseball, an artist named Dana lands in a psychiatric facility after a showing of her paintings bombs. Dana’s insurance only allows a 10-day visit for depression so she fakes a multiple-personality disorder, pretending to believe that she is star baseball player Darryl Strawberry.

The script does not have huge thematic depth, but there is a lot of fun to be had. We get the point early that Dana has to rediscover the playfulness of her vocation. Still, playwright Gilman is often slyly witty as she makes her case. Her presentation of the art world, with its morbidly sensitive artists, bloodsucking gallery owners, and ethically compromised friends, is hilarious. As Dana’s show is tanking, Rhonda, the gallery owner, admits she suggested a number of alterations that Dana delivered. “And the technical changes were really smart,” Rhonda murmurs in fake supportiveness, “but now I’m wondering if I was wrong.”

The actors have a fantastic time with the script’s complex dynamics. As Dana, Lori Triolo anchors the show with an emotionally raw yet witty portrait. Dana could come across as a paranoid victim, but Triolo gives her fire. When she congratulates another artist on his success, the pats she gives his chest are almost blows. And this Dana can’t suppress an ironic laugh when she describes her own suicidal obsessiveness.

Scott Miller is also superb as Dana’s boyfriend Roy and as a psychotic patient named Gary. Gary has some of the script’s most absurd speeches-he is dedicated to killing a TV newscaster-and Miller’s delivery is a heady mix of surprising comic timing and bloodletting sincerity.

Jenn Griffin plays psychiatrist Dr. Gilbert with a winningly tough, ironic edge, and she’s screamingly funny as Rhonda, who she makes eccentrically feline. This latter characterization is large, to say the least, but I was laughing so hard I didn’t have time to care.

Director Liesl Lafferty doesn’t just get great performances out of her cast; her staging, in which players simply turn their faces to the wall or lie down on the floor when they exit scenes, is a kind of minimalist poetry.