The Harold Pinter double bill that opened last night offers theatrical bookends to the Nobel laureate’s career: “The Room” marked his debut in 1957, while 1999’s “Celebration” is reportedly his final play. If that remains the case, Mr. Pinter has ended on a curious note, shifting from sinister absurdism to absurd (and mildly sinister) absurdism. But with its crafty, well-callibrated production, the Atlantic makes this progression seem surprisingly logical.

Rose (Mary Beth Peil), the chatty, territorial wife of “The Room,” spends the first several minutes droning on to her mute mate Bert (Thomas Jay Ryan) about his tea, the icy weather, and the benefits of their unprepossessing flat: “You’ve got a chance in a place like this.” Anyone familiar with Mr. Pinter’s later work will instantly question the accuracy of this statement.

Once Bert leaves on an unnamed errand, Rose faces a variety of interlopers, from the seemingly harmless to the seemingly malevolent (her earlier speech doubles and triples back to the man who lives alone in the basement apartment, a man who finally appears) to the seemingly confused. Neil Pepe’s taut, cold-blooded direction creates a mood that gives credence to the finale’s shocking violence and tantalizingly unanswered questions.

Ms. Peil is tremendous as Rose, whose compulsive nattering masks deeper, murkier secrets. She has a probing, emotionally fraught rapport with all five of her fellow actors, especially Peter Maloney’s doddering landlord and Earle Hyman’s blind visitor. Mr. Ryan and David Pittu deliver the terse menace we’ve come to expect from Mr. Pinter, and Kate Blumberg delivers jittery support. When he wrote the play at 27, Mr. Pinter had already come close to mastering the lurking inferences and sinister, contemplative silences that would become his trademark, and Mr. Pepe wisely grasps this, eschewing any meddlesome imposition of “concept.”

“Celebration” is similarly unencumbered – or, rather, the encumbrances come from Mr. Pinter adopting an entirely new format. Much of his recent work, particularly his poetry and essays, has devolved into polemicism, but “Celebration” finds him in a surprisingly jolly, even juvenile, mood. The fashionable restaurant depicted is one of the few Pinter settings that couldn’t benefit from a good dusting (Walt Spangler’s sets are as crisply evocative as they are stylistically diverse), and the chatty dialogue has an equally burnished gleam.

Two groups – a new-money foursome straight out of a Martin Amis novel and a jittery couple reeling from an infidelity and an ill-defined financial setback – are enjoying their ludicrously expensive meals, although the bottles of wine get far more attention. The action pingpongs between the two tables until Lambert (Patrick Breen), the alpha male of the fat cats, recognizes Suki (the irresistible Ms. Blumberg) and all six diners squeeze into one banquette.

It may be Julie (Betsy Aidem) and Lambert’s anniversary, but his subtle and not-so-subtle psychological abuse – “We’ve been married for more bloody years than I can remember and it don’t seem a day too long” – abates only when a new, weaker individual joins the party. Circling the diners are three restaurant staffers, whose awareness of their social station is manifested in sycophancy, misery, and an unforgettable barrage of name-dropping; the latter is delivered by the inspired Mr. Pittu, who stealthily emerges as the play’s emotional center. (Mr. Pinter himself was fired from a waiter job in the 1940s for making similar interjections.)

Undercurrents of menace and thuggery are still there, to be sure. But they’re overlaid with such a goofy sheen that audiences could almost miss them. Does Mr. Pepe keep the banter too light? Would the play’s ambiguities benefit from a little less horseplay and a little more emotional roughhousing? Perhaps, but Mr. Breen’s giddy malice and Mr. Pittu’s sly, unctuous desperation offer their share of compensation.

The austerely haunting “Room” cannot help but fade in the boisterous shadow of “Celebration.” But only for a while: Mr. Pinter’s chilling world-view pokes through in surprising ways that creep into one’s consciousness long after Lambert and his odious cohort head off into the night. Somehow, Mr. Pepe has turned an unusually filling appetizer and an enormous dessert into a satisfying meal. Compliments to the chef.

Until January 8 (336 W. 20th Street, between Eighth and Ninth Avenues, 212-645-1242).