What: “Accomplice,” by Rupert Holmes

When: Opens 7:30 p.m. Friday (champagne reception 7 p.m.); additional performances 7:30 p.m. Thursday through Saturday, 3 p.m. Sunday, till June 23

Where: 2nd Street Theater, 220 NE Lafayette Ave., Bend

Cost: $19 adults, $16 students and seniors

Contact: 2ndstreettheater.com or 541-312-9626

When director Scott Schultz offered to show this reporter a flow chart breaking down the plot of “Accomplice,” a play by Rupert Holmes, I knew I was in for something different.

Along with being an award-winning playwright, Holmes is also known for his song “Escape (The Piña Colada Song),” the 1979 soft-rock hit in which the infidelity-minded narrator takes out a personal ad looking for a mate who likes piña coladas and downpours, eschews yoga, has half a brain, etc. — only to have said ad answered by the lover he was looking to betray. If you thought Holmes’ song had quite the plot twist, you ain’t seen nothing yet.

“Accomplice” is a darkly comic thriller set in the English countryside. Plot twists come standard in thrillers, but “Accomplice” takes that rule of thumb and twists it close to the breaking point.

At first blush, it’s the story of a woman named Janet (played by Amber Dawn Hanson) and her lover (Levi Wagoner). The two banter and spar, coming across as a loveless couple sniping in the way a loveless couple might.

Slight spoiler alert to help clarify matters: Things are said that reveal the two are plotting the murder of Janet’s actual husband, Derek, who is also business partner to Wagoner’s character, John. Janet and John are merely role playing their plan in which Janet will murder Derek.

Janet makes just enough digs about the absent Derek that we gather their marriage is not a satisfying one. Derek, whom we do eventually meet, is played by Todd Hanson, who is — yes — married to Amber Dawn Hanson in real life.

Except that at the end of the scene, we see Janet unveil a hidden tape recorder. Later, it would appear she may actually be hatching a plot with Melinda, John’s wife (Catherine Hahn).

As Keanu Reeves would say: “Whoa.”

A lot of other events transpire in the first act, but too many spoilers ruins the fun. Suffice it to say, the first act’s surprise twist later seems like small potatoes after the mind-melting second act.

It turns out “Accomplice” is a meta play, containing a story within a story. The four are actors rehearsing a new play called “Accomplice.” One of them is Hal, who along with playing Derek is also the show’s writer and director, married to Erica, who plays Janet. Any relief is short-lived as there’s still malice lurking about. Later, the fourth wall is not just broken, but shattered; the actors actually make reference to Bend theater folks, such as set builder Gary Loddo.

Sound a little confusing? Welcome to the party, pal. You’re in for quite a ride.

“Accomplice” is like no play I’ve ever seen before, and I mean it as a compliment. This is the kind of theater fare that nudges your perception of what’s possible forward a bit. Small wonder Holmes won his second Edgar Allen Poe Award for the show.

Later, as I wandered around the supermarket in a bit of a daze, realizations about what I’d just seen at rehearsal kept surfacing, such as the fact that at different points in the show it seems possible for just about any of the four on stage to be the victim of a murder. Hal, the writer/actor/director of the “Accomplice” play the actors are rehearsing within the show, knows how to stroke his actors’ egos: At points when he’s alone with each one of them, he confides that the show is named for his or her character, each of them being an accomplice. Again, whoa.

In the second act, the cast speculates whether the audience will be able to guess how “Accomplice” ends. The smart money is on nope, not a chance — even though PR materials on the show say outright that audience members will end up accomplices, too. Not sure of this, but maybe Schultz will show everyone the plot flow chart.

After the rehearsal, he asked if I’d avoid too many spoilers in this preview, especially some of the things that happen in act two. That’s my M.O. most of the time in these community theater pieces, so I happily agreed.

“You’re an accomplice,” Hahn said.

WHOA.

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