But Jackman goes well beyond the brief. On the night I attended, when a woman in Row B started coughing loudly, it was clear that the man who’d played the exuberant, audience-coddling Allen — Garland’s son-in-law — was not about to leave her uncared-for. Ad libbing, he offered her a bottle of water — and was clearly ready to deliver it in person. She said no, but I was surprised that the 400 other theatergoers didn’t start hacking immediately. He had them just where Macklem wanted Annie, and possibly vice versa.
For an audience no less than an individual, the steep slope of powerful attraction is difficult to negotiate. Neither Macklem nor Annie (she’s given no last name) is sure-footed. He’s an overinflated balloon, blowing himself through life. She’s, well, 19. Beyond any other consideration — attraction, power, psychology, class — her absolute age, not the gap in their ages, is what Moscovitch wants us to consider. Annie is not yet a fully grown human; she barely has the emotional wherewithal to handle her impulses, to know which ones she can safely indulge.
Lest I spoil the ingenious working out of the story, I won’t say more except that we meet Annie again when she does have that wherewithal. That both she and Macklem have aged we see at once by the simplest of means: posture, diction, a change of clothes for her, a change of glasses for him. (The costumes are by Ásta Bennie Hostetter.) Whether either character has grown is a different question, one you’ll have to decide for yourself. Is revenge growth? Is growth itself revenge?
That’s the thrill of Rickson’s production: It doesn’t tell you what to think but, in its big payoff, gives you plenty to consider. Better yet, it achieves that payoff with minimal fuss. The set (by Brett J. Banakis and Christine Jones) needs only a few chairs, a desk and a lamp to place you anywhere you need to be. Mikaal Sulaiman’s sound consists mostly of faint music, the kind you sometimes think you hear while falling into a dream. There are no microphones; the actors’ actual voices are hitting your actual ears.
If this is theater on a shoestring, let the theater never have shoes. And though I’ll wait to proclaim the Audible x Together experiment a sustainable success — at least until its next production, “Creditors,” with Liev Schreiber, Maggie Siff and Justice Smith, opens later this month — “Sexual Misconduct” is proof of concept even as a one-off. Those cheap tickets buy you not only a seat at the Minetta Lane but also a place in the living conversation of raw yet thoughtful theater. Plus maybe, if you cough enough, a bottle of water.
Sexual Misconduct of the Middle Classes
Through June 18 at Minetta Lane Theater, Manhattan; audiblexminetta.com. Running time: 1 hour 20 minutes.
