Upon entering the theater for Nazareth Hassan’s new play, “Practice,” audience members see a ghost light illuminating the stage.
Traditionally, that single light in an empty, otherwise darkened theater creates a safe space for anyone entering it. More superstitiously, it is reputed to ward off ghosts that might curse or sabotage a production. The bulb itself is also symbolic, reflecting the eternal light that is the practice of theater.
Hassan demolishes that romantic notion in this shocking, darkly witty and visually stunning play, directed with a sharp rigor by Keenan Tyler Oliphant at Playwrights Horizons.
In “Practice,” which opened Tuesday, the stage is revealed to be far from a safe space. Instead it’s an arena of emotional abuse and exploitation whose overlords use the warm-bath language of therapy and community to break actors and ruthlessly get their way. (In the program, Hassan — whose skatepark-set drama, “Bowl EP,” was just as striking — writes that while the theater has “saved” his life he also hopes to “exorcise” the industry’s “addiction to power.”)
Ronald Peet gives a brilliantly sinister and menacing performance as Asa Leon, a chic, imperious director (using “they” as a pronoun) whose voice is first heard, disembodied, softly encouraging a group of actors to reveal themselves as they recite lines from a script. But this isn’t just an audition: Asa is gathering information and detecting vulnerabilities, which they will exploit later. The actors, desperate to secure roles, become open books.
The uniformly excellent cast includes Ro (Opa Adeyemo), an easygoing charmer; Tristan (Omar Shafiuzzaman), seemingly too eager to please; and Rinni (Susannah Perkins), seriously focused on the work. Angelique (Maya Margarita) seems to be holding part of herself back. Keeyon (Hayward Leach) is a ball of sex-positive fun, while Mel (Karina Curet) is a secure-in-herself (not for long!) nepo-baby. In a blink, Savannah (Amandla Jahava) transforms from her savvy cool-girl audition character to her giggly, ingratiating real self.
Everything the actors say and do is used by Asa to manipulate and undermine them. Watch his compulsive eating of specially selected jelly beans and what happens when they go missing. (Take cover!) Asa’s partner, Walton (Mark Junek), is an almost-silent observer, revealed to have considerable power himself.
When Tristan vomits after the exertion of a warm-up, Asa fetches a bucket and mop as if to clean up the mess, then instead motions to Tristan to do it himself. Alongside exploitation, “Practice” also dramatizes the grueling physical and mental demands of acting. (It’s an endurance test for audiences, too; the first act of this three-hour show is an unbroken two hours.)
Race, identity, illicit desire and questionable relationships swirl as conversations points for Asa to seize on and weaponize. Asa’s silent assistant Danny (Alex Wyse) creates a chart for the group to note their own transgressions — an exercise in collective positive accountability, Asa claims. In reality, it strains friendships and increases Asa’s power over the actors.
The second act is a performance within the play, titled “Self Awareness Exercise 001,” featuring the group and premiering at an arty theater in Berlin. The piece, which feverishly unpacks the themes of performance and exploitation, takes place within a mirrored box that the audience can see into, but the actors (playing each other as exaggerated characters) cannot see out of.
Within the box, Tei Blow’s sound design conveys the thrash of trapped bodies and the repeated, clashing-voiced stories of the characters. Here, “Practice” transforms into a dizzlingly choreographed (by Camden Gonzales and Oliphant) piece of meta-theatricality — both laughably extreme and intensely serious. The play’s big twist, which shall go unspoiled here, serves Hassan’s mission to reveal the darkness of theater world practices.
Visually, “Practice” is a panoply of the everyday and the distinctively extreme, including Afsoon Pajoufar’s scenic design (depicting both a church rehearsal space and a radical performance art piece) and Masha Tsimring’s shadowy, then blazing lighting. Brenda Abbandandolo and Karen Boyer’s costuming perfectly matches the traits of each character — intimidating contours for Asa, cropped T-shirts for Keeyon, then all-out body-conscious bizarre for the group’s final performance piece.
This profound and affecting play ends with a vision of an empty stage at the production-within-the production’s next imagined location of London. One character lies exhausted on the floor, another looks for a water bottle. What we have seen, Hassan impresses upon us, is what it really takes to make theater, and what it can cost those making it. The ghost light is nowhere to be seen.
Practice Through Dec. 7 at Playwrights Horizons, Manhattan; playwrightshorizons.org. Running time: 3 hours.
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