THE QUIET TERROR OF AGORAPHOBIA IN ‘DOTTIE’

Dottie McCann is a smart, thoughtful career woman with a big Manhattan apartment and an even bigger problem--she’s afraid to go outside.

A victim of agoraphobia, she’s so spooked by the sights and sounds of the city that, since her husband’s death, she’s become a total recluse. A greeting card designer, Dottie (Elizabeth Franz) does all her business by mail, orders her groceries over the phone. Her fears have even cut her off from her family. When her sister’s husband died, she skipped the funeral, sending a card instead.

Now her sister, Agnes (Betty Miller)--as fierce as Dottie is self-effacing--is bedridden in the country, dying of leukemia. It’s Dottie’s struggle to make peace with Agnes, in-person, that forms the emotional center of this intriguing drama, which shows the quiet terror of her affliction.

Written by Bruce Gelfand and directed by his brother, David Gelfand, “Dottie” (which premieres on “American Playhouse” tonight 8 p.m. on Channel 50 and at 9 p.m. on Channel 28) is no mere Disease of the Week melodrama. Told with affecting grace, it’s a sorrowful account of family ties--and how easily they can disintegrate.

Some viewers may find “Dottie” understated to a fault. Its pace is slow, its tone hushed. And while the Gelfands shrewdly avoid a lot of talky confrontations--letting the awkward silences speak for themselves--Dottie and her dying sister are sometimes a bit too laconic. You almost wish they’d have a knock-down brawl, even if it’s obvious that their estrangement is largely due to their inability to show any emotional cards.

Yet what makes “Dottie” work is its finely nuanced performances. As Dottie’s daughter, Cyd, Margaret Gibson uses her deep, sexy voice to show an inviting blend of resilience and sadness. As the dying sister, Miller is wary and tough, almost proud of her struggle against death.

Franz, a familiar face to “Playhouse” audiences, is equally impressive. She views the outside world like a doe caught in the glare of a hunter’s headlights. Watching her shield her eyes from the noisy Manhattan streets, it’s easy to see why she feels as if she’s been tossed down a well, clinging to the sides as she “listens to the world go by.”