You gotta admit, Scott C. Sickles gave his play, “Hairdresser on Fire,” a hell of a title. It’s taken from a song of the same name by ‘80s king of depression, Morrissey. The song is actually about the singer’s unnatural dependence upon his hairdresser, and it seethes with vanity and humor.

If you really wanted to make the case, I suppose you could say Sickles’ play is similarly about inexplicable relationship dependence – motivated, in some cases, by vanity, with some humorous results.

At the play’s center is Lawrence, one of those self-deprecating, loveable guys who doesn’t know what a catch he is. He’s a talented artist who has found little luck in love or the art world. His two best friends are his much older gay ex-lover -- who still gets burned carrying the proverbial torch -- and their virginal yet kinky gal pal.

Then Lawrence seems to meet the perfect guy – a handsome corporate attorney who sweeps him off his feet. He looks good on paper, but soon enough his flaws are revealed.

OK, the shine comes off the apple in any long-term relationship. But Allen has some serious failings: he’s manipulative, controlling, prone to lying and emotional abuse, and he disregards Lawrence’s one true passion and talent, his art. Any one of those qualities might be a deal breaker, but staying in a relationship with someone who exhibits all of them takes a special kind of broken down psyche.

Trevor Bowles has an appropriately youthful, innocent look but is too strong in the role of Lawrence. He doesn’t exude the kind of frailty and need for emotional self-flagellation that might keep him with someone like Allen, who humiliates Lawrence for sport.

It should be pointed out that Bowles replaced Blake Perret for the role late in rehearsals. Given the circumstances, Bowles does a fine job.

Neil McDonald is both funny and at times pained as Lawrence’s former beau, an older man obsessing over his fading looks and what he views as his diminishing level of desirability. His voice, though, booms too loudly in the small Compass space.

Bill Shore gives a wooden performance as Allen, making him seem more apathetic and creepy than charmingly manipulative. Robert Bitsko does well as Allen’s brother, though he doesn’t look the part of a buttoned-up, multimillion-dollar corporate attorney.

The performances to watch in “Hairdresser” are the women – Krissy Tobey as Brioni, the chaste pervert, and Gigi Palomera in a number of female roles.

Tobey is spunky and heartfelt as Brioni, who single-handedly embodies the Madonna/whore complex and manages to find a dozen different ways to wear the same orange scarf. Tobey comes the closest to making cheesy lines resonate with truth and sincerity – even that bit about looking for a man who’s willing to wait for marriage to have sex and be willing to wear a dog collar.

Palomera brings on the laughs with a couple of caricature-type roles, most notably an eccentric and fabulously fawning yet dismissive New York art dealer. She’s easily the best thing about this production.

In the end, Lawrence must choose between his new lover or his longtime friends and his art. He makes the right decision, of course, after Allen becomes violent and either rapes Lawrence or gives him some kind of juvenile playground dry hump nougie in a scene that is awkward at best.

Sickles’ flawed script could use some trimming, and the characters tend to be overwrought. Scene changes on opening night were uneven, and the lighting could help better delineate the time shifts.

“Hairdresser on Fire” marks the first of Compass Theatre’s QPlays, a series of five gay-themed works. The program gets off to a lackluster start with this middling production, which unfortunately doesn’t live up to its compelling title. Still, the company should be applauded for diversifying its base and producing new works with gay and lesbian themes.