The Unknown

B-

This 70-minute monologue by David Cale has been described as a thriller, but I think that overstates the case. While I was surprised or amused at some of its twists and turns, my heart was never pounding, nor was I ever at the edge of my uncomfortable seat (more about that later). Better to think of it as a showcase for the prodigious talent of its star, Sean Hayes. As “Promises, Promises” and “Good Night, Oscar” already proved, Hayes has come a long way from playing Jack, the uber-gay friend on “Will and Grace.” The main role of Elliott, our narrator, is not actually that big a stretch for him. He’s a gay marginally successful playwright/screenwriter/songwriter with writer’s block, who lives in the West Village and frequents Julius’ Bar. He also plays several other roles including his best friend and his friend’s wife, his alleged stalker and alleged stalker’s alleged identical twin, and their older brother. His speech patterns and postures make each one clearly separate. The phrase “I wish you wanted me,” a line from a song Elliott had written, keeps turning up in disturbing places, including his bathroom mirror after a night with a goodlooking young Texan who may have drugged his drink at Julius’. He finds the Texan’s picture amidst a pile of headshots of actors turned down for his latest musical. Instead of going to the police, he decides to turn the tables and stalk his stalker, hoping thereby to find material for a new screenplay. Complications follow. Although I enjoyed watching Hayes demonstrate his craft, my interest in the plot gradually diminished and I was underwhelmed by the ending. The set is a bare stage, but Studio Bent gets a credit for scenic design. Hayes’ typical street clothes earn Sarah Laux a credit as costume designer. The contributions by lighting designer, Cha See, and sound designer, Caroline Eng, are more significant to the production. The direction by Leigh Silverman is fluid. Fans of Hayes will have a good time. Just don’t go expecting thrills and chills.

GRIPES: When Studio Seaview took over the former Terry Kiser Theater, I hoped that they might make some improvements. Alas, aside from a few velvet curtains, all is as before. The seats still have very thin foam padding with the narrowest armrests in New York. Instead of full credits, the program has a QR code to press to find biographies of cast and crew. With tickets approaching $200, I think they could spring for a proper program. Worst of all, the central staircase is still an accident waiting to happen with no handrails to grab.