Weekly Margin 2026, W16: The Receptionist

4/16/26: The Receptionist

What: 2nd Stage presents Adam Bock's play about a gossiping receptionist in a suburban three-person office -- the northeast branch of an unnamed company. The seemingly innocuous office comedy takes a dark turn when Mr. Raymond, the senior employee who's been running inexplicably late, finally arrives to report on his client meeting from the day before.

And? I'm being deliberately coy because this show is still so early in previews and it's so much better to go in cold on this one. The play lands itself in a much more disturbing place than it started, and Bock achieves that journey deftly, imperceptibly, the red flags masquerading themselves until we examine them retroactively. The play becomes an exploration of the pretty sheen that can mask brutal fascism, as well as the dangers of complicity: the devil will always come for his due. All four cast members are great, led by the inimitable Katie Finneran, who can mine any line for humor or pathos in a way that no one else can.

Weekly Margin 2026, W15: Echoes of My Silence, Scorched Earth

4/09/26: Echoes of My Silence

What: As part of the Frigid/New York City Fringe Festival, Azadeh Kangarini's autobiographical one-woman show plays at the Chain Theatre. Her piece follows the path of her silence in the face of externalized and internalized misogyny through the various men whose molestations through the years of her life have made her question herself and her own relationship with her body.

And? full review here.

Azadeh Kangarani. Photo by Nathan Zhe.

4/11/26: Scorched Earth

What: St. Ann's Warehouse presents Attic Projects' production of Luke Murphy's choreographic play about a cold case over a death ruled accidental at the center of a land dispute in Ireland.

And? Absolutely stunning choreography: fluid and athletic and almost weightless, bodies seeming to be falling up from the ground, a collapse in reverse. The dance often separates itself from literal storytelling, dilating emotional moments and crises, fixations and mysteries. So while the ostensible frame is the 24 hours a man is held for questioning as a cold case is reopened in which he is the prime suspect for a murder, there are diversions to the late night walker who found the body, the damage to the body itself, the missing donkey, and the farmer's affection for the land he's losing that volleys between love and desire: a distinction noted in the work of giving versus taking. The final sequence, as the walls fall away to reveal the tract of land, a steep hill with a deep loam, is a gorgeous expansion of space and bodies in motion.

The company of Scorched Earth. Photo by Teddy Wolff.

Margin Notes: Echoes of My Silence

Echoes of My Silence

Seen on: Thursday, 4/09/26.

Azadeh Kangarani. Photo by Nathan Zhe.

Plot and Background

As part of the Frigid/New York City Fringe Festival, Azadeh Kangarini's autobiographical one-woman show plays at the Chain Theatre. Her piece follows the path of her silence in the face of externalized and internalized misogyny through the various men whose molestations through the years of her life have made her question herself and her own relationship with her body.

Thoughts:

Azadeh Kangarani stands onstage in slacks and a burnt orange blouse. She is calm, warm, collected. A woman who knows who she is and loves who she is. Behind her are six vertical mirrors: some single pieces, some a column of smaller mirrors. She lifts the seventh mirror, a horizontal one leaning at her side, and walks through the audience, asking us "How often do you look at your face?" As she tells her story, a mix of memories from the most recent--an encounter with a female pilot whose sight forces Kangarani to reckon with her own internal biases--to the most distant--a memory of a man exposing himself to her when she was only nine years old. For each story she tells, she wrestles with her guilt over how many times she held her tongue as men took advantage of her. Why was she silent each time? Why didn't she let the world know about yet another violation? Silence after silence, echoing through her life. For each memory, one of the vertical mirrors behind her is assigned an identity and an initial for his name. Though each represents a man who tried to steal her autonomy, who pressured her to quash her own sense of her worth and voice, they are all still each a mirror. She has named them, but if she turns to look at them dead on, she will see only herself. Even this, the performance of her wrestling with her self-imposed guilt, has her seeing her own face as the perpetrator of her trauma. She's not being fair to herself. But it's an honest examination of how survivors of this sort of assault do not know how to be fair to themselves. Her piece brings her face to face with her own shames, but also her survival of each of them. And she invites the audience to do the same: face that in ourselves which we are most afraid to see, and discover that in ourselves that we most love to see. The silence doesn't have to echo on, once we are able to speak.

Weekly Margin 2026, W14: Beaches, The Balusters

3/30/26: Beaches

What: A new musical adaptation (with lyrics and co-written book by Iris Rainer Dart, the original novelist of Beaches) of the beloved 80s film about two best friends whose wildly different personalities and paths lead them to connect, disconnect, and ultimately unite in their lifelong affection for each other. It's also the movie that gave us "Wind Beneath My Wings."

And? It's fine. The score isn't memorable and the script is serviceable, but the performers are excellent, particularly Jessica Vosk and Kelli Barrett as the adult versions of Cee Cee and Bertie, and Samantha Schwartz and Zeya Grace as their childhood counterparts. Also of note: the rarity of a musical with only two male performers (it's a small cast in general, but that's still impressive). Sadly, another show with an unimaginative use of projections and screens.

Jessica Vosk as Cee Cee and Kelli Barrett as Bertie.
Photo by Trudie Lee.

4/01/26: The Balusters

What: MTC presents David Lindsay-Abaire's new play about the Neighborhood Association of a community of houses in a historically preserved neighborhood, as they struggle with maintaining the faithfulness to the aesthetic against the ever-changing progress of time: here encapsulated in the need for a stop sign on an otherwise preserved esplanade, and the controversial installation of non-historically accurate balusters (porch railings).

And? Honestly just a fantastic night out -- good, messy fun. The play accomplishes a fantastic feat of a true ensemble work where every performer gets a chance to shine, where every character has admirable qualities and more despicable ones. There are no heroes here, but nor are there villains. These people are a damn mess, and it makes for very good theater. It's hard to talk about standout performances, but Marylouise Burke (who also starred in the original play version of Lindsay-Abaire's Kimberly Akimbo) is an absolute dotty gem, delivering even the simplest lines with her own unique spin. And the two primary antagonistic forces, Richard Thomas as the board president and ardent advocate for preservation and Anika Noni Rose as the newcomer ready to stir things up, are perfectly polarized: each with an ironclad conviction that they are on the correct side of the argument, each cunning enough to try to outwit the other.