Lusty party never gets into full swing

Why do married — or otherwise committed — couples go to sex parties? One obvious reason presents itself. But the characters in the new black comedy The Qualms — set amid a little clutch of mostly miserable middle-aged Midwestern swingers, and the latest Steppenwolf Theatre Company world premiere from the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of Clybourne Park — do not so much seem fired by erotic energy as by their formidable mutual collection of crippling neuroses. When they could be diving into the fruit bowl full of condoms, they instead devote time to a discussion of the finer points of republics versus democracies. They debate the power dynamics of pornography and the morality of its consumption. They muse about the purpose (or lack thereof) of marriage. They confess personal sexual histories with the embarrassed awkwardness of adolescents drunk on three-buck Chuck. When given the chance to have a few hours of consequence-free fun in the “party room,” they kvetch, bicker and do pretty much everything and anything but achieve a modicum of sensual fulfillment.