Theatre in Review: People of the Book (Urban Stages)Plenty is going on in People of the Book -- sex, politics, racism, literary chicanery, and a full dossier of scandalous secrets -- but it rarely seems to matter, for two reasons. First, the plot is wildly overstuffed, its focus shifting from one hot-button issue to another with head-snapping speed. Second, Yussef El Guindi's characters unfailingly, mechanically give in to their worst instincts; they are so predictably awful that it's hard to care about the messes they make. And what messes they make! The play centers on two couples, neither of whom makes an appealing case for the institution of marriage. Amir and Lynn, high school sweethearts and a cool, bohemian pairing in their youth -- are, in their mid-thirties, hungry culture workers living from paycheck to paycheck. Amir is a poet -- never a high-earning profession -- and Lynn is an artist specializing in alarmingly whimsical depictions of the female silhouette. To their considerable bemusement, their current houseguest is Jason, a former classmate who dwelled well below them on the high school food chain. Now, however, he is an Army veteran, back from his Middle East deployment, having turned his harrowing experiences into a best-selling memoir. Adding salt to the wound, he is about to close a movie deal with a former People Magazine sexiest man alive. It tells you everything about Amir and Lynn's relationship as soon as he leaves the room, she returns Jason's impetuous pass; within the hour, they are having sex in a train station restroom. Apparently, Jason has carried a torch for Lynn across two decades, which makes it doubly confounding that his new wife, Madeeha, is arriving by plane to begin a new life in America. Jason's book portrays him as her savior; then again, at the airport, surrounded by journalists, she asks, "Wouldn't it look better if you kissed me?" His blank reaction is the first hint of the bizarre arrangement that binds them. Indeed, these four "friends" are locked in a chain of suspicion and envy. Amir, frustrated that a loser from his school days has landed on the best-seller list, keeps sniffing around, convinced Jason's book is fraudulent. Jason works at breaking up Amir and Lynn's marriage; he is also happy to accuse the American-born Amir of disloyalty to this country because, he is of Arab ancestry -- and Lynn, fed up with her husband, is willing to second the motion. Then again, when conflicts erupt between Jason and Madeeha, she makes short work of him using a combination of blackmail and savage humiliation. Many urgent issues are raised, many of them springing from the legacy of America's military adventures abroad, but the characters are too thin and predictable, being defined entirely by greed, lust, and envy. As a result, their arguments have little weight. John Langs' direction doesn't add much shading or texture, leaving the actors to fend for themselves. Sarah McAfee's Lynn is, by turns, perky, disingenuous, and self-justifying, almost ridiculously unwilling to own up to her flirtatious behavior. Ramsey Zeitouneh's Amir is irritatingly passive-aggressive, the kind of underminer who spoils any party. (Both actors are excessively fidgety; one wants them to stand still and say their lines.) Jason's character is such a bundle of conflicting impulses that it's not surprising Brian Slaten can't make sense of him, but he projects a compelling strength at least in the early scenes. As Madeeha, Haneen Arafat Murphy is a quiet, understated presence; a refugee but not a victim, she means business and is not to be crossed. She is also by far the most interesting person onstage. The action moves quickly thanks to Gloria Novi and Elena Vannoni's set design, based on a set of moving wall units; their costumes are effective, too, especially the glittery red thobe worn by Amir in a jarring, out-of-nowhere nightmare sequence featuring Jason wrestling with his conscience. (Novi and Vannoni supply examples of Lynn's artworks, which give you an idea of her talent.) John Salutz's lighting and David Margolin Lawson's sound (especially his evocations of wartime) are solid. But these people of the book -- a nifty double entendre of a title -- are barely believable and their squabbles and alibis become progressively less interesting. El Guindi is onto something here but his story needs far more dimension and depth. --David Barbour 
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