"Snake Farm" — The very idea of it inspires the creepy-crawlies. When Ray Wylie Hubbard, king of Texas swamp rock, released his 2006 single and album of that title, I cringed but couldn't wait to get my CD. We humans just love to be grossed out.

Watching Core Performance Manufactory's production of "Freakshow" by nationally respected playwright Carson Kreitzer evokes the same mix of mesmerized awe and visceral revulsion. Can't stand to watch but can't tear the eyes away.

The play, staged at the Bath House Cultural Center, revolves around an interlude in the everyday lives, if you can call them that, of the "cast" of a traveling freak show in the early 1930s, when the glaring spotlights and blaring carnival music are turned off and the spectators have gone home.

Central to the production, both physically and metaphorically, is the character of Amalia, an alluringly beautiful and sensual woman clad in a sequined gown, propped up on a table for "viewing" because she has neither arms nor legs: the main attraction of the freak show. It's a curious surprise to learn Amalia is no pitiable victim.

Through her monologues addressed directly to the audience as well as her interaction with the other members of the touring act, it's soon evident Amalia is the heart, mind, and soul of the entire enterprise.