Can you spot which one of the above is a psychopathic killer? Oh, who cares. By the time this show is over, you'll be begging for your neighbor to stab you. What's irritating about Jeff Hollman's play, Real Danger, is that there's plenty of substance there, and some workable characters. But for a show about real danger, it's played too safe: when the change actually hits, it's almost laughable. The actors deliver their lines with the flattest of zest, the direction amounts to a game of musical chairs, and I'm bored just remembering it. A thriller doesn't work if you don't let on that there's supposed to be suspense, and if the play boils down to nothing more than a twist that everybody knows is coming . . . then what are you left with?