Good luck scoring an invitation to the most exclusive social reception in town. It’s being held at the palatial and luxurious Fifth Avenue townhouse belonging to the very wealthy Mrs. Alice Hauptmann. There you will be treated to tea, finger sandwiches, and a healthy dose of the vitriol at the heart of this fiendishly funny dowager.

The event is not real, of course, but actually a very clever, site-specific theater piece (presented by Soho Rep, piece by piece productions and Rising Phoenix Repertory) and starring the legendary Zoe Caldwell. Written by David Adjmi (Stunning) and directed by Sarah Benson, Elective Affinities is an intriguing if ultimately slight piece--very slight, actually, since the play itself runs a mere 30 minutes or so. But this intimate experience, done for just thirty audience members an evening, offers the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience a near-private performance by this great actress.

Upon entering the premises--the private location of which is sent to you a couple of days in advance via e-mail--one is greeted by an officious staff who check your coat and guide you to the upstairs drawing room. While a pianist plays classical music you can gaze at the enormous and horribly ugly abstract black sculpture that sits in the middle of the room.

Eventually you are personally welcomed by Mrs. Hauptmann herself, who just might greet you as if you’re an old friend and make such inquiries as whether or not your daughter has gotten into that university to which she was applying. You settle into another room, sitting on couches, chairs, divans, wherever you can, as your host proceeds to regale you with a rambling philosophical monologue in which she discusses subjects ranging from the Darwinian aspects of nature to the necessity of torturing terrorist suspects.

Chatty and convivial, she quickly reveals her true colors. “I love my husband, my friends,” she declares. “Other people, I’m indifferent to them. Until they harm me…or someone I love. Then I’m not indifferent. Then you can permit horrible things—torture, murder, genocide, that sort of thing.”

Clearly influenced by Wallace Shawn’s similarly monstrous character in Aunt Dan and Lemon, Mrs. Hauptman pales by comparison, and so does this brief playlet. But it’s nonetheless a haunting experience, not diminished at all by the fact that Caldwell performs with the script in front of her. Simply being in the intimate company of this theatrical giant is a privilege well worth paying for.

“Hauptmann Residence,” New York City. 212-352-3101.