Theatre in Review: After (Partial Comfort Productions/The Wild Project) Monty, the protagonist of After, has just been released from prison after 17 years -- or, roughly, half his life -- exonerated for a rape he didn't commit. The playwright, Chad Beckim, tells us very little about the case, and practically nothing about Monty's years of imprisonment. Instead, he focuses with quiet intensity on the present tense, following Monty as he negotiates the thousand details of daily life about which he knows exactly nothing. The result is a remarkably suspenseful tale, punctuated by powerful revelations and unexpected bursts of oddball comedy. Monty, now in his mid-30s, has never had to do anything for himself, his entire existence having been shaped by the totally structured nature of prison life. Because of this, he faces his new freedom with something like high anxiety. He camps out on the dining room floor at his sister's house, pacing all night. (Tellingly, he chooses this room because it has the biggest window.) He has difficulty merely crossing the street. A trip to a convenience store leaves him overwhelmed with choices. Even with the support of Liz, his sister, and Chap, a priest he met in prison, his life is a moment-by-moment struggle. These early scenes are written with such acuity that it's easy to be thrown by what happens next, as Beckim begins to populate Monty's life with a pair of alarmingly cute eccentrics. At the convenience store, he is all but ambushed by Susie, an overly assertive salesclerk who overwhelms him with too much information while helping him shop for a toothbrush. Next, Monty lands a job in a doggie day-care center where he has to contend with an Indian-American motor mouth named Warren ("the LeBron James of calculus"), who, despite his dreams of designing computer games, is consigned to a career in pet care by his ferocious father. ("My family is Old Testament Catholic," he notes.) Given plenty of wisecracks by Beckim and played to the hilt by Jackie Chung and Debargo Sanyal -- the latter a major scene-stealer in the Play Company's production of Invasion! last season -- these two are such practiced entertainers that they all but highjack the play into sitcom territory. What looks at first like an error, however, may in fact be a canny strategy, as Monty becomes awkwardly, but inexorably, entwined with these two messy, troubled, deeply needy characters, leading to a number of unexpected repercussions. Chung is wrenching in a scene set after a failed sexual encounter with Monty, and Sanyal gradually finds a genuine sense of sadness in Warren, whose irritating manner has a way of bringing Monty into contact with his true feelings. ("It's like prison," complains Warren about his job. "No, it's not," replies Monty with understated force.) The real marvel of After is the lucidity with which Beckim portrays every step of Monty's Via Dolorosa, a voyage toward self-acceptance complicated by his bottled-up feelings and the hovering, unseen presence of his accuser, who now, after all these years, reaches out for forgiveness. Beckim is especially good at depicting Monty as man out of his time: Liz presents him with the posters that, as a teenager, he displayed in his bedroom. "I don't know if Smashing Pumpkins is still around anymore," she says. A date with Susie at the movies proves to be an obstacle course, topped by the frightening revelation that a ticket now costs $13.50. And then there's the little matter of that fact that, at 35, he has never had the chance to kiss a girl. The action is anchored by Alfredo Narciso's thoroughly detailed and stunningly unsentimental work as Monty, his body tensed with feelings he dare not express, his eyes bright with fear that he may make a mistake and expose himself. He's especially wrenching as he recalls how his father went to his grave thinking his son was a rapist. In addition to Chung and Sanyal, there are also fine contributions from Maria-Christina Oliveras as Liz, whose sunny, casual manner belies a profound rage, and Andrew Garman as Chap, especially when he and Monty are faking each other out with phony true confessions. Thanks to the laser-like accuracy of Stephen Brackett's direction, each scene pulses with real, if largely unspoken, feeing. The production benefits from a solid, unflashy design package, including Jason Simms' set, with its black lacquered walls, a sliding panel, and minimal furnishings; Greg Goff's fluid lighting; and Whitney Locher's accurate costumes. Daniel Kluger's sound design, with its layers of ambient effects, adds to the authenticity of a number of scenes. After shows how much power can be derived from dark subject matter when everyone involved resists the impulse to juice it up with big scenes or outsized emotions. The facts of Monty's case are gripping enough, and, smartly, they know it. Chalk it up as another winner for Partial Comfort Productions, a company that has an uncanny way of finding new talents to watch.--David Barbour 
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