In Touch, Kenny Finkle’s absorbing new play premiering at New York’s cozy East Village Basement, distance is intentionally collapsed. Just about anyone in the front row could extend an arm or a leg and make contact with Anthony Rapp, the actor onstage effortlessly carrying off this beautiful and engaging 80-minute solo show. With this choice of staging, director Jonathan Silverstein signals that the audience needs to be as close as possible and bear witness to every wrinkle of thought, every shift of memory and feeling within Rapp´s transparent body.
In the play´s opening scene, Syd Blatter (Rapp), is in the middle of a panic attack. A gay man in his 50s whose writing career never quite took off, he´s stuck in a crowded subway car on his way to teach theater to middle-school kids in the Bronx. His description of the episode will be familiar to anyone who lives with anxiety, and Rapp´s embodiment of vulnerability quickly summons sympathy, as well as a few laughs. We can see ourselves in Syd–his fragility, the self-effacing humor, and the speed with which an ordinary moment of stress can make one spin out into a state of existential dread. Syd might be a bit of a drama queen, but aren’t we all sometimes?
Desperate and disoriented, Syd stumbles out of the train and runs into Julissa. As Rapp convincingly inhabits both sides of the conversation, we learn that she was a student of his more than a decade earlier. The chance encounter is made sweeter by watching Rapp instantly recreate both sides– this role demands Rapp to carry out the role of multiple characters– of the conversation with just a slight change of voice, a tiny shift in posture. After joining Julissa for a selfie to post on Instagram, a chain of events sets in motion, forcing Syd to revisit others from his past. There´s Jackson, a too-smooth-talking professional acquaintance whose skyrocketed career in publishing inspires little more than envy and bitterness in Syd. There’s also Joseph, another former student from the theater workshop and a classmate of Julissa. Joseph is now a talented young writer, seeking mentorship. He’s also a young adult, gay, and super hot. Joseph seems interested in this reunion turning into something more sexual; is Syd picking up the cues accurately, or is this just projection? Should he maintain the personal and professional boundaries between him and his former student? What is the right thing to do?
Finkle’s dramatic writing is potent and sharp, and each scene of Touch probes the large ethical questions hidden within everyday decisions. Finkle repeatedly puts Syd into uncomfortable situations, engaging in conversations with others as well as with himself which are awkward and agonizing. When is it appropriate for a teacher to comfort a student? What do we do if our intentions are misunderstood? How do we let go of old grudges, and try to live with more grace? Touch maturely dissects the fallibility of memory, and is sober in its portrayal of humankind. Everyone is out for themselves; still, even while hurt, by the play’s end, Syd concludes that it’s better to choose compassion instead of vengeance.
Rapp is exquisite in this role. His performance is rich with subtle and precise detail. As these memories and encounters unspool, Rapp allows us to glimpse his mind changing in real-time. While seated in a chair for the entirety of the play, Rapp imbues exceptional physicality into his portrayal of Syd. When hurt, his whole being winces; when going into reliving a fond memory, he takes the audience with him. With Touch, Rapp and Finkle demonstrate the vast universe of possibilities that comes from combining a brilliant actor with a superb script.
As the story approaches its climax, so does the tension. We think we know where Touch is going to land. We’ve seen this ending before, right? Clear-cut victims and villains? But instead, Finkle and Rapp offer an ending which is far more nuanced, ambivalent, and realistic. Syd emerges as someone who falls short of heroism without being malevolent or helpless. He’s just a flawed human being who resembles us all in the audience in more ways than is perhaps comfortable.
Touch is highly personal, an emotional experience to watch, but it aspires to achieve much more than a theatricalized confession or trauma-dump. Finkle is more interested in interrogating this one man’s life, and searching the shadows of his mind. The play contemplates how profoundly our actions, even the most fleeting ones, can affect one another, and how physical contact often shapes the contours of our lives. Stripped down, naked in theatrical form, Touch is one of the best pieces of theater I´ve seen in a long time.
Photo by Table 7 Strategy/ Kevin Kulp
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