“Angry Alan” at Studio Seaview (Photo: Jonny Cournoyer)

The new venue Studio Seaview has opened in the theatre formerly known as the Tony Kiser with a well-appointed refresh. There’s Le Labo in the bathroom and chic, dim lighting throughout the space doing wonders to turn what was formerly kind of drab into something luxe. It’s a match for Seaview’s celebrity-tinged programming, including its debut production, Angry Alan from playwright Penelope Skinner, director Sam Gold, and actor John Krasinski. With the glut of one-person, star-driven plays on and off-Broadway this spring, it’s easy to feel some fatigue walking into your third or fourth (depending on when you see Call Me Izzy). But just as quickly as Studio Seaview distinguishes itself as a cut above the Kiser, Angry Alan jolts toward the top of the heap.

Skinner’s play focuses on Roger, a middle-aged white guy, divorced, estranged from his teenage son, fired from a job he loved, and now working as the dairy manager at a grocery store. Feeling disenfranchised from the privilege he is accustomed to, Roger falls down a conservative rabbit hole led by a men’s rights activist known as Angry Alan. In that world, Roger is validated and his mind is opened to how the world has treated him poorly.

Krasinski’s casting (by Taylor Williams) is key to the play’s success. Krasinski exudes nice-guy energy, the kind of lovable, dopey presence that made him stand out on The Office. He’s unbelievably handsome, but his face also kind of looks like a stuffed bear. There’s a pervasive gentleness, a comforting vibe which is then upended, quite dramatically, as he spirals out of control. Roger’s unraveling veers from light comedy to boiling anger to terrifying anguish and Krasinski effortlessly navigates that terrain. With his face lit primarily by a computer screen as he plunges into the abyss, the play’s final seconds are bone-chilling.

Skinner’s text, created with the actor Don Mackay, balances the audience’s awareness of Roger’s doomed trajectory with his own fervor for understanding. As Roger digs deeper into Angry Alan’s ethos, his soul is fed and ours, as outside observers, are sickened. Roger regurgitates Alan’s points as if they’re nuggets of wisdom that open his mind to new avenues. To us, they’re harmful, misogynistic rhetoric. Krasinski plays Roger’s truth unashamedly, betraying not a knowing liberal eyeroll at Roger’s claptrap. We’re never on Roger’s side, but Krasinski’s innate affability keeps us listening, balancing on the dangerous tightrope Skinner’s play extends. 

Gold and an aces design team have created a diorama-like world for Roger to live in. A surprise turntable spins beige walls away to reveal a tilted living room, a bit too small for Krasinski’s frame and with video-projected walls that suggest surreality. The set by dots and the video design by Lucy Mackinnon exaggerate Roger’s feeling of being too big for the life he has. Gold and Skinner are reuniting after a stellar production of her play The Village Bike over a decade ago. Angry Alan again confirms that their styles pair well. 

Plays that attempt to touch on the current political moment so explicitly often fail to make impact, especially when they’re just preaching liberalism to New York City. But by depicting a conservative man who inches further and further to the right and feels great about doing it, Skinner shows us how someone well-intentioned can find himself drowning. But to Roger, that’s not what’s happening. As he takes on more and more of Angry Alan’s water, he’s not choking and sputtering, he’s swimming.