Mike Dressel — Theater Critic

The show ultimately succeeds, despite its occasionally muddled narrative structure, due to its seriousness and sensitivity. Kaysen’s story is one that inspires fierce identification and protection, and has made people feel seen. Like the lyrics in the show’s final song, “I see/And I believe,” this production manages to harness what connects audiences to each version of story: the acknowledgement of its characters’ struggle, their frailty, and their humanity.

Quoted in a 1950 article in the New York Times, Wilder said his play was “a kind of a mixture of Horatio Alger and Franz Kafka, with a department store serving as the central image.” That did seem to be his m.o., mixing European experiments with narrative and form and a can-do American determination. It’s interesting to consider the department store as a relic, having given way to the mall, which succumbed to the big box store, before online retailers became the market leaders. Some might say that certain art forms are relics too, yet we pursue them because a life without them offers what exactly? Given the world we inhabit, which seems designed to drive us toward the monotony of Craigie’s, we probably need the Emporium more than ever.

In the final scene of the play, Mr. Zero learns, to his consternation, that reincarnation is nothing but a series of repetitions. Life is reproduced almost like a series of carbon copies, with departed souls rinsed, recycled, and repurposed. Charles indicates that there’s always some unseen force above thumbing the scales, and even eternity can be a slog. Some audiences might find The Adding Machine one too, given how central despair and regret is to the play. But if they clock in with full knowledge of what’s in store, perhaps they will find a play worth reckoning with.