Review: THE SMOKER at Contemporary American Theater Festival

It is unusual, to say the least, to find yourself in the company of an anti-hero with little or nothing to say for themselves. Accomplishments? Bagging groceries at Trader Joe’s might count, but only just. Wife? He’s divorced. Kids? One daughter, whom he only sees on weekends. His apartment? Barely furnished and certainly not well cared for. Even the plants have given up.

Goals in life? Umm, yeah, we’ll have to get back to you on that…

Lisa D’Amour offers us a fascinating character study in her latest play, The Smoker, and under the empathetic eye of Director Shelley Butler we are invited into the lives of normal people we routinely pass by without a thought. As if by accident we meet our central character, a recovering alcoholic known only as The Smoker (the charming and dissembling Brad Fleischer) and for the rest of the evening we watch as he passes the time out on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building, sharing a smoke with neighbors and chatting with passers-by.

The premise itself is unremarkable, but deceptively so. D’Amour reminds us that the people we see out on that sidewalk day after day each have their own stories, well worth remembering and honoring, even if their accomplishments will never make front-page news. The cigarette, as disreputable as it has become, is an island and a refuge for them, a way to relieve the stresses of working-class life.

And, not coincidentally, engage with other human beings; an artform that our social media has effectively stripped us of.

What is easy to miss is the comradery that develops among these somewhat-happy few, who now have to indulge their habit outdoors, at all hours of day or night. That legal requirement creates its own special brother-and-sisterhood, as smokers navigate their status as half-accepted, half-outcasts.

This being New York City—the action is set in a specific apartment building where D’Amour used to live, and whose front is re-created with great fidelity by Michael Raiford—any place you pass by will hold its secrets and its treasures—not all of whom smoke, but who are willing to hang out anyway, as they wait for their next gig.

For example: You know that gorgeous soprano wafting in the breeze as you walk by? Here we get to meet aspiring opera star Kim, played here by Regina Gibson, whose voice inspires fond memories of divas like Maria Callas (and yes, Ms. Gibson performs as Callas in other venues, look her up!). For obvious reasons cigarettes are a no-no for her, but she’s willing to share an aria or two to entertain her neighbors; and when she does, the effect is truly breath-taking.

Now, a word about those actual smokers; one of our title character’s most memorable partners-in-nicotine is Tonya, played with passion and wit by Danielle Davenport. Given her real-life struggles, Tonya never hesitates to remind our anti-hero of his good fortune, since he’s a white divorcee who can only afford to live in his building because his wife still pays for his health insurance. Tonya’s passion for poetry—Sunni Patterson’s work is given a beautiful turn here—is a reminder of the beauty so many of us keep hidden, but only because we don’t bother to ask.

Meanwhile, we also have The Smoker’s favorite foil, Roberto—played by the always-engaging, down-to-earth Orlando Arriaga—who makes deliveries throughout the neighborhood, when not tending to the needs of his wife, who faces a serious health challenge as the story unfolds.  Arriaga is the responsible one, in stark contrast to our Smoker, a loving family man who does what he can, without complaint.

D’Amour has also created a golden opportunity for actors who want to be a triple-threat onstage, and here we have Vivia Font embody a neighbor who walks her dog, Sammy (a pup who meets an untimely end), a homeless woman named Ruthie, and last but not least Miranda, Smoker’s wife. The roles require costume changes—including one live before our eyes—and Font’s versatility is wonderful to see.

As lead Costume Designer, Lex Liang gives us clearly-drawn characters, whose wardrobes perfectly match their characters and their aspirations—even Smoker’s relative lazy attitude requires careful thought, and we see that here as well.

For all the joy of connecting with these sympathetic human beings, the closing sequence of The Smoker leaves confusion in its wake. A moving memorial speech is followed by what looks like a fantasy sequence, and it isn’t clear whether we’re ending on a grounded note in the real world or a sort of photomontage that points in several directions at once. A little tweak here and there, however, will serve to make this work a truly fulfilling night of theater.

Running time:  95 minutes, without intermission.

Production Photo: Danielle Davenport as Tonya (L) and Brad Fleischer as The Smoker (R).  Photo by Seth Freeman.

The 2026 Contemporary American Theater Festival will run through August 2, on the campus of Shepherd University in nearby Shepherdstown, West Virginia.

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