The Ruins of Civilization ***

For its final play of the season, Manhattan Theatre Club is presenting the world premiere of an unsettling drama by award-winning British playwright Penelope Skinner (The Village Bike). The play is set in a dystopian England of the future where the government tightly regulates most aspects of life and empathy is in short supply. Silver (Tim Daly) is an anal-retentive writer who has been doing research on a novel for nine years. His sensitive wife Dolores (Rachael Holmes) has been troubled by things they have just seen on a trip to an island that is about to vanish due to climate change. Joy (Orlagh Cassidy) is the government functionary who visits the couple periodically to check on Dolores. Apparently the couple’s stipend has been temporarily trimmed until Dolores gets over having thoughts that are against government policy. Without consulting her husband, Dolores invites Mara (Roxanna Hope), an immigrant from the doomed island, to occupy their spare room. Complications ensue. Through seemingly offhand remarks, Skinner builds a chilling picture of a society that is plausible enough to make one uncomfortable. The actors were fine except for an occasional stumble over accents. Neil Patel’s attractive set has subtle hints of futurity and Jessica Pabst’s costumes, particularly the jackets and shoes for Silver, are stylishly modern. Some aspects of the plot do not stand up to close examination, the emotional temperature could use a boost and the first act could use a trim. Nevertheless, the play held my interest and raised issues that merit our attention. Leah C. Gardiner directed. Running time: 2 hours, 5 minutes, including intermission.

NOTE: The three most interesting plays of the MTC season were all by foreign playwrights (Florian Zeller, Nick Payne and Penelope Skinner). Three others were by MTC old timers — Richard Greenberg, David Lindsay-Abaire and John Patrick Shanley. Add in a mediocre revival (Fool for Love) and an absolutely ghastly new play (Important Hats of the Twentieth Century). Can MTC do better? Hope springs eternal.

Incognito ***

Nick Payne’s intriguing play at Manhattan Theatre Club is cerebral both figuratively and literally: it’s brainy and it’s about the brain. Just as quantum physics played an important role in “Constellations,” his last play at MTC, neuroscience is at the center of this one. In an author’s note, Payne says that the play is loosely based on real events and cites ten sources that inspired him. The three main narratives are about Thomas Harvey, the pathologist who took Einstein’s brain and wasted the rest of his career trying to find something special about it; Henry Maison, a young man who, after experimental surgery for epilepsy, was unable to form new memories for the rest of his long life; and Martha Murphy, a fictional middle-aged neuropsychologist with a dim view of human autonomy, trying to reboot her life after a divorce. There are also several subsidiary stories woven into the narrative. The gimmick is that all 20 roles are played by four actors — Geneva Carr, Charlie Cox, Heather Lind and Morgan Spector —who transition between characters with lightning speed. Text on the rear wall identifies the play’s three sections — Encoding, Storing and Retrieving. This segmentation seemed arbitrary and the moment of stylized movement and gestures that introduced each one was an unnecessary distraction. As in any pastiche, some stories are better than others. I wished that some had been prolonged and others had been attenuated or even eliminated. I found Martha’s story not very compelling, but was extremely moved by Henry’s tale. The actors are wonderful, particularly Carr and Cox. Scott Pask’s strikingly simple set consists of a large circular platform with four chairs backed by a semicircular wall, all in charcoal, with a ring of lights above the wall. Catherine Zuber’s costumes are all in various shades of gray. Director Doug Hughes skillfully juggles the many strands so that the audience can usually find its bearings without undue difficulty. I admired Payne’s ambition and intelligence even when an occasional scene misfired. Running time: 90 minutes; no intermission.

Indecent ***

Borrowing from “Shuffle Along,” I could say that “Indecent” might well be subtitled  “The Making of the Broadway Sensation of 1923 and All That Followed.” Pulitzer-winner Paula Vogel has written a complex, ambitious work, “created by” herself and director Rebecca Taichman, about the rocky history of “God of Vengeance,” Sholem Asch’s controversial 1907 play. The melodramatic story of a Jewish brothel owner whose daughter falls in love with one of his prostitutes, the play’s second act contains the notorious “rain scene” that shows the tender love between the two women. The depiction of Jews as pimps and prostitutes and the desecration of a torah in the final scene made the play problematic. After a striking opening image, the present play takes us from Asch’s play’s raucous first reading at a Warsaw salon for Yiddish writers through its success in several European capitals to its move to the Bowery, then on to Greenwich Village. To secure an English-language production on Broadway, the producer, much to the devoted cast’s dismay, excised the rain scene. Nevertheless, inflamed by condemnation by the rabbi of Temple Emmanuel, the city closed the play down after one performance and successfully tried the cast and producer for obscenity. Asch neither protested the play’s mutilation nor attended the trial to defend the loyal cast. Allegedly, he had just returned from a mission to Eastern Europe and was too traumatized by what he saw there to care much about what happened to his play. The transformative power of his play on the devoted cast who perform it for so many years is in stark contrast with Asch’s loss of interest in it. I fear that the present play attempts to tell too many stories at once: the importance of Yiddish literature and especially Yiddish theater, the bonds within a theater troupe, the positive presentation of lesbianism, the fear of encouraging anti-Semitism, the difficulties of assimilation, fragments of Asch’s long career and the tragic loss of a Yiddish audience. The playwright posits a final performance of Asch’s play in an attic in the Lodz Ghetto. The entire cast is superb: Richard Topol is Lemml, the stage manager. The other actors — Katrina Lenk, Mimi Lieber, Max Gordon Moore, Tom Nelis, Steven Rattazzi and Adina Verson — all play multiple roles and succeed in making us care about characters that are not that fully developed. The production is greatly enhanced by a trio of klezmer musicians and choreography by David Dorfman. The set by Riccardo Hernandez is simple but effective and Emily Rebholz’s costumes are appropriate. While there is much to admire in this production at Vineyard Theatre, the many elements did not cohere as well as I would have liked. Perhaps my expectations were too high because of my high regard for the previous work of both the playwright and the director. Running time: one hour 45 minutes; no intermission. NOTE: Do not get front row seats because the stage is very high.

Signature Plays **

On paper it must have seemed like a good idea to present a triple bill of revived short works by playwrights who were in Signature Theatre’s Legacy program. For someone like me who has a limited tolerance for absurdist theater, the results were not gratifying. Yesterday’s avant garde often seems quaint or just annoying today. 

Edward Albee’s “The Sandbox” at least offered a bit of drollery and a chance to see three fine actors — Alison Fraser, Frank Wood and Phyllis Somerville as Mommy, Daddy and Grandma, respectively— and hunky Ryan-James Hatanaka as The Young Man. Melody Giron played the cello. 

Maria Irene Fornes’s “Drowning” is a strange tale of unrequited love in which the three characters — Pea (Mikeah Ernest Jennings), Roe (Sahr Ngaujah) and Stephen (Wood again) — are dressed like humans but inexplicably wear grotesque masks that make them look more like sea lions. 

The longest and most complex work is Adrienne Kennedy’s “Funnyhouse of a Negro,” a surrealistic look at racial identity and racism through the mind of Sarah (Crystal Dickinson), a mixed-race graduate student on the Upper West Side. Except for her landlady (Fraser) and her boyfriend (Nicholas Bruder), all the characters represent aspects of Sarah’s inner conflict. They include Queen Victoria Regina (April Matthis), the Duchess of Hapsburg (January LaVoy), Patrice Lumumba (Ngaujah), Jesus (Jennings), and Sarah’s mother (Pia Glenn.) The short scenes are punctuated by blackouts. Along about the tenth one, I began praying that the next would be the last. While I can appreciate the impact the play must have had when new, it just didn’t work for me now.

The production values are first-rate with sets by Mimi Lien, costumes by Kaye Voyce and lighting by Mark Barton. Lila Neugebauer directed. Running time: 2 hours 10 minutes including two intermissions.

American Psycho ***

This musical version of Brett Easton Ellis’s controversial 1991 novel about Patrick Bateman (the mesmerizing Benjamin Walker), an investment banker by day and serial killer by night, is a triumph of style over substance. Although I have neither read the book nor seen the movie, I gather that the musical has smoothed out a lot of the rough edges and reduced the body count substantially. Satire trumps gore most of the time. The soullessness of consumerist capitalism in the Reagan era is well-captured by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa’s book, Duncan Sheik’s music, Lynn Page’s choreography and Rupert Goold’s direction. The gadgets, brands, clubs and restaurants may have changed but the spirit of entitlement in 1989 New York is not all that different from today’s. Bateman and his coworkers are as vacuous as their pecs are buff. The women are equally unlikable. The monochromatic scenic design by Es Devlin and sophisticated projections by Finn Ross are so striking that they sometimes threaten to upstage the actors. Among them are Helene York as Bateman’s obnoxious fiancee, Jennifer Damiano as his love-struck secretary, Drew Moerlein as his rival, Morgan Weed as his mistress and Alice Ripley, basically wasted, as his mother. The whirling sets, hyperactive videos, bright lights (by Justin Townsend) and gaudy costumes (by Katrina Lindsay) eventually produced a feeling of sensory overload and a diminishing conviction that the story was worth all the effort involved. The second act loses some of the early energy. Nevertheless, as its best moments, the show’s style overcomes its flaws and makes for edgy entertainment. The audience, considerably younger than usual for Broadway, was quite enthusiastic. Running time: 2 hours, 35 minutes including intermission.

Gorey: The Secret Lives of Edward Gorey ***

This off-beat “fantasy memoir” by Travis Russ (who also directed) employs three actors who simultaneously portray the reclusive author/illustrator at different stages of life — Phil Gillen as a young man, Aidan Sank in middle age and Andrew Dawson as septuagenarian. Events in Gorey’s life are told in nonlinear order, cued by items discovered in an inventory of Gorey’s Cape Cod home after his death. Considerable time is devoted to Gorey’s close friendship with Balanchine and his devotion to the New York City Ballet. We even get an amusing recreation (by choreographer Katie Proulx) of an excerpt from Balanchine’s ballet PAMTGG, a notorious flop. Gorey’s longtime association with Frank O’Hara is also covered. There are insights into Gorey’s creative process and a raw look at his abiding loneliness. The set by Russ and Carl Vorwerk evokes the clutter of Gorey’s life. John Narun’s projections are an enjoyable addition. A brief scene with a puppet by Elizabeth Ostler is one of the few misfires. There are moments of humor as well as pathos in this amiable production, but little in the way of a narrative arc. The actors are all appealing. My only quibble is that the play assumes a prior knowledge of Gorey’s work and would probably be puzzling to anyone who doesn’t have that. This production by Life Jacket Theatre Co. is running at HERE in SoHo. Running time: 1 hour 15 minutes..

Nathan the Wise **

For his final production as artistic director of Classic Stage Company (CSC), Brian Kulick has chosen this 1779 “drama of ideas” by German Enlightenment philosopher/playwright Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. Set in Jerusalem in 1192 during the Third Crusade, it makes a case for religious tolerance between Jews, Muslims and Christians. The title character (F. Murray Abraham) is a wealthy Jewish merchant, just back from a long journey, who learns that his daughter Rachel (Erin Neufer) has been rescued from a fire by a mysterious Knight Templar (Stark Sands) who had been spared from execution by the Muslim ruler Saladin (Austin Durant) because of his strong resemblance to Saladin’s late brother. The Templar at first vehemently refuses to have anything to do with the Jew Nathan, but is rather suddenly won over by his intellect and soon falls in love with his daughter. Daya (Caroline Lagerfelt), Rachel’s Christian nurse, tells the Templar a secret that puts Nathan at great risk from the Patriarch of Jerusalem (also played by Lagerfelt). The other characters are Al-Hafi (George Abud), a dervish who provides comic relief; Sittah (Shiva Kalaiselvan), Saladin’s clever sister; and Brother (John Christopher Jones), a monk with a secret. The central portion of the play deals with a perilous challenge from Saladin for Nathan to tell him which religion most pleases God. Nathan adroitly handles the situation by telling a parable about three rings, one of which has magical powers. A father who loved his three sons equally had two duplicates made and told each son that he had been given the original ring. A wise judge told the sons that the only way to determine who had the magic ring was for each to behave as if worthy of it. Saladin succumbs to the powers of Nathan’s intellect and takes him as his friend. A pair of revelations about two orphans provides a rather hackneyed ending. I found some of Kulick’s choices perplexing. The entire back wall of Tony Straiges’s set is covered with a sepia photograph of a bombed-out street in a place like Syria or Gaza. This wall is covered by an unexplained projected Arabic script at the beginning of each act. There is a row of chairs across the back of this wall where the actors sometimes sit when they are not in a scene. The floor is covered with oriental carpets which are rolled, unrolled or pulled up at various moments. In a framing device, the play opens with the actors in modern dress arguing in Arabic until Abraham shushes them so he can tell a story. The costume design by Anita Yavich has each don an attractive white robe covered with ornamental calligraphy appropriate to the character’s religion. The actors wait for the second act to begin while Durant and Abud say their evening prayers. What we are to make of this mishmash of imagery was not clear to me. The acting is uneven. Lagerfelt was very good in both roles. Sands coped well with the abrupt changes in his character's behavior. Abraham was blessedly restrained. It was a minor pleasure to be exposed to this rarely seen curiosity. Running time: two hours.