Review: An Unmissable Lauren Ambrose in The Unbelievers

The characters of Nick Payne’s The Unbelievers, having its American premiere at Manhattan Theatre Club’s New York City Center—Stage I, are struggling with belief and doubt, a struggle reflected in the stunning set by Paul Steinberg. It’s an angular dining room that abruptly becomes a church, complete with pews for audience members. I can’t speak for the comfort-level of those who sat in the wooden seats for two intermissionless hours, but from my vantage point, Steinberg’s designs sold me right away, especially when star Lauren Ambrose entered and lit a single candle in the window. The set matches the sensibility of the piece, a pointed examination of faith and reality that is both incongruous and beautiful.

It focuses on Miriam (Ambrose), who we meet after her 15-year-old son Oscar disappears. The best-case scenario is that he ran away, which the police find plausible since Miriam and her husband, David (Tom Riley), are amid a divorce. Miriam, a recovering alcoholic, grappled with her mental health before her son’s disappearance, and as time goes on, she falls deeper into crisis.

At the same time, David and Miriam’s children are also contending with this incomprehensible loss. Nancy (Nina Ross) dabbles in the paranormal while the other. Margaret (Elizabeth Yeoman), also struggling with mental health, desperately tries to get Miriam’s attention. Though estranged, David clings to Miriam and appears ready to take her back with open arms. When he suggests they hold a memorial for Oscar and finally put him to rest, Miriam reaches a breaking point, and the whole family must decide how they will go on.

Without warning, Payne shuffles the chronology of the play, shifting through different time periods in a way to mirror Miriam’s losing her grip on reality. It’s held together by a virtuosic performance from Ambrose, who is utterly believable as a grieving but hopeful (or deluded?) parent. It’s a pleasure watching her become aware of how scenes are disappearing in front of her, looking for characters no longer there, and trying to hold on to these experiences even as they have already passed. She’s shaping the somewhat unwieldy material into something that’s greater than what’s on the page. Helping this all make sense are director Knud Adams and brilliant lighting designer Masha Tsimring, whose work both locates and unmoors the audience.

No one would peg Ambrose, Riley, Ross, and Yeoman as a family in real life, but through lived-in performances they build a warm, loving household even as they fall apart. Marjan Neshat is masterful and subtle as two pivotal characters, while Hadai Tabbal can’t really locate much tension in the role of Karl, Miriam’s ex-husband who is now a reverend (both he and Neshat were in Adams’s Broadway production of the play English). Karl exists as a referee for arguments, rather than actively participating in the story.

There’s also original music in the play. Ross performs the piano and guitar beautifully, and the first of her two songs (both written by Will Butler) hit hard. It’s part of a mournful, soulful section lit by candlelight, and one of the best of the play. The sound design by Sinan Refik Zafar is perfection. Butler’s second song is less arresting, and the play wouldn’t have suffered if only one had made it to the stage.

The Unbelievers is a deeply affecting piece about a woman slowly unwinding and a family desperately trying to keep her, and themselves, together. And with Ambrose as the lead, it’s unmissable.