The Seven Year Disappear Off-Broadway Reviews

Nixon, a delicately skilled stage performer, plays each character as a slightly exaggerated persona, like roles an artist might try on to demonstrate that identity is a kind of drag. If there are psychoanalytic underpinnings to this approach, they’re not compellingly explored. The result is two actors operating in uneven registers throughout, with Trensch as the so-called straight man to Nixon’s shuffle of mild caricatures. (The exceptions are mother-son confrontations that Elliott pitches as earplug-worthy shouting matches.)

Not able completely to keep all Seavey’s twists clear, Scott Elliott nonetheless directs with style. He’s greatly helped by lighting director Jeff Croiter, sound designers Rob Milburn and Michael Bodeen, and perhaps most of all by projection designer Narun. Despite Seavey’s many distracting features, they all contribute to an unusually elegant production, maybe elegant in spite of itself.

But after watching Nixon playing such weak-willed (but well-dressed) TV women—Miranda on And Just Like That… and Ada on The Gilded Age—it’s a thrill to see her as the uncompromising Miriam. Incidentally, it’s been seven years since her last New York City stage appearance (The Little Foxes). Let’s hope she doesn’t, well, disappear for so long next time.

The Seven Year Disappear circles around questions about artistic practice and purpose, growing up as if your life is not your own, and the conflation of identity and consumption. But Seavey seems uninterested in engaging with these ideas directly and thoroughly. The characters never share their views on the purpose of art, particularly in the context of using one’s own life as material. There’s no detailed engagement with art as processing or capital or exploitation. At most, Naphtali confesses he’s “fucked up” because of his relationship with his mother's work, but such a straightforward declaration betrays the play's lack of linguistic imagination.