Theatrical experiences rarely come in more intimate forms than Green Eyes. This production of a long-lost Tennessee Williams play—how many of them are there, exactly?—is being performed in a room at midtown’s Hudson Hotel, with its fourteen audience members being within touching distance of the two barely clad performers.

Indeed, it’s not every show in which a comely actress asks a viewer’s help in removing her dress.

The immediacy adds greatly to the impact of Williams’ 1970 one-act, which depicts the emotionally and physically charged encounter between a pair of honeymooners in their hotel room in New Orleans’ French Quarter. Claude (Adam Couperthwaite) is a clearly traumatized soldier on temporary leave from serving in Vietnam. His sexually rapacious young wife (Erin Markey) is a sort of younger amalgam of various female characters from other Williams plays, alternately flirtatious and mocking.

Fueling the couple’s conflict is Claude’s discovery of a condom in the toilet, leading to his accusation of infidelity after she returned to the room alone the night before.

The two performers, clad mainly in their underwear (and Markey frequently in less) deliver no-holds barred turns, with their close proximity adding greatly to the evening’s intensity. Markey is particularly hypnotic, using a heavily Southern-accented drawl to accentuate her florid dialogue.

It’s a minor work, to be sure, gussied up here by Duncan Cutler’s ominous sound design which simultaneously evokes the passionate and occasionally violent nature of the characters’ interactions as well as Claude’s recent military experiences. Another reminder of the latter is the appearance of a breakfast toting bellhop wearing army fatigues, his face painted camouflage style.

While one wouldn’t particularly want to be staying in one of the hotel’s adjacent rooms—one can imagine that there are more than a few complaining calls to the front desk, considering the volume of the shouted dialogue—this environmental staging adds greatly to the theatrical impact of this brief but fascinating footnote to the playwright’s career.

Hudson Hotel, 356 W. 58th St. 212-352-3101. www.ovationstix.com.