Beau Willimon's new play about a troubled pilot is a confused muddle.
There's little doubt that the play begins with a nerve-jangling rush as Adam (Jeremy Sisto) and his genial coworker Karl (Brian Hutchison) find the normalcy of a workday in the control tower outside of St. Louis airport thrown into chaos as they learn that a passenger named "Maxine," needs their help in landing a private airplane after its pilot has suffered a heart attack. Sisto infuses Adam's response to her distress with both an adrenaline-fueled urgency and steady sense of command that reassures not only the person to whom he's speaking on the radio, but also tense theatergoers.
Soon, the play moves forward to Adam's debriefing with an unsympathetically blunt FAA Official (Charles Borland), and then, to a dive bar where Adam's propositioned by an exceptionally forward woman (Mia Barron). This character -- also named Maxine -- will haunt his future as much as the woman he attempted to help in the plane.
From the woman's initial appearance, Willimon seems to be setting theatergoers up to believe that she is some sort of projection from Adam's psyche. This assumption is underscored by not only the striking physical similarities between Barron and Maggie Lacey, the actress playing Adam's wife, Jessica, but also the ways in which the blue dresses the actresses wear (provided by Jenny Mannis) resemble one another. Even the fact that Maxine never ages as the play moves forward over the course of 25 years seems to indicate that Maxine is just in Adam's mind.
There's a certain Twilight Zone eeriness to the premise, and if Willimon committed to exploring Adam's obsession with this figment of his imagination, Spirit Control might prove haunting. Instead, the playwright eschews clarity and opts instead to distract audiences with generalized accounts of the dissolution of Adam's marriage, the rancor that his youngest son Tommy (Aaron Michael Davies) feels about his father's behavior, Jessica's remarriage to Adam's colleague Karl, and the almost meteoric success Adam ultimately has as cellular phone retailer.
As the play shifts unsteadily from scene to scene (quite literally given the awkward shifts between locales in Robin Vest's unautomated scenic design), audiences even begin to wonder if all of these events, which sometimes don't add up and at others seem too conveniently arranged, are somehow projections that Adam makes about his future in the moments following the plane crash. And yet, this can't be: No one in 1985 would dream that they were selling PDAs, much less a device with the name "Blackberry."