The Disappear Off-Broadway Reviews

Although Schmidt the writer specifies, in all caps, that Ben "MUST BE CHARMING," Schmidt the director ignores that imperative; as embodied by Linklater, who usually is charming, Ben is an insufferable manchild from beginning to end, and nothing more than that. Spending even a second with him, much less The Disappear's two hours and 15 minutes, is not recommended

It’s frustrating trying to get a handle on the new play by Erica Schmidt at the Minetta Lane Theatre. And there’s good reason for that: the playwright doesn’t seem to a handle on it herself. The work deals with serious themes, almost more than it can handle, while attempting to be the sort of broad comedy that Charles Busch might come up with. Not much of it makes sense, either narratively or thematically, but it’s a lot of fun along the way thanks to the clever writing and terrific performances.

While one of the hallmarks of Chekhov’s work is its emotional authenticity, “The Disappear” never quite dispels a feeling of artificiality. Ms. Schmidt’s dialogue has a sheen of sophistication (Ben describes the tenor of his movie as “Artaud meets Poe”) and can be archly funny, but it’s also wearyingly talky, and Ben’s egoism and pretentiousness are more tiresome than amusing.

While one of the hallmarks of Chekhov’s work is its emotional authenticity, “The Disappear” never quite dispels a feeling of artificiality. Ms. Schmidt’s dialogue has a sheen of sophistication (Ben describes the tenor of his movie as “Artaud meets Poe”) and can be archly funny, but it’s also wearyingly talky, and Ben’s egoism and pretentiousness are more tiresome than amusing.

The Disappear bites off more it can chew, attempting to ruminate on intergenerational tensions in the film industry, the scars left by art, composing art amid climate disaster (the Los Angeles fires seem to get a nod), and more all at once, leaving me pining for a cohesive version of this play.