Theater Review: Michael C. Hall pallid as Thom Pain

Thom Pain (Based on Nothing)

Written by Will Eno

Directed by Oliver Butler

Starring Michael C. Hall

Signature Theater, Manhattan

November 30, 2018

I’ve been trying to figure out why I was so unimpressed with the current off Broadway production of Will Eno’s Thom Pain (2004), starring everyone’s favorite cuddly sociopath Michael C. Hall (Six Feet Under, Dexter). Hall should have been a great match for the dangerous, unhinged ramblings of Thom in this single character 70- minute monologue/play. Comparing this performance to descriptions of the original London run which starred James Urbaniak give some clues. Eno’s play should put you in a claustrophobic cauldron with this uncomfortably deranged guy, and to paraphrase the NYT clinic, make you want to take a shower afterwards. Instead, Hall emerged for group photos with the starstruck audience afterwards. There was little sense of being trapped in a room with a psycho. Some of this was due to the large theater with a huge, empty stage set as a construction site—unfortunately mostly lacking in menace. This was vast space for Hall to wander around, including into the aisles of the large theater, and all this wandering diluted the intensity of the play. Equally important, Hall seemed just too blandly friendly and engaging. This works fine when portraying a true sociopath, who should be very unmenacing and collegial until he garrots you, but this Thom Pain is more overtly deranged and creepy, moving fluidly between stories of deformed children, dead pets, and oddly threatening audience banter. Hall failed to portray any real danger or menace. His boy-next-door good looks were not an advantage here (compare him to the role’s edgier originator James Urbaniak below).

Unfortunately, when stripped of its claustrophobic creepiness, there is not much in the play to hold the attention. There is no real plot or progression, and no real evolution of Thom’s personality during the play. So the quality of the experience has to derive solely from the intensity of language and performance, as well as the affect created by the director and actor. These were lacking in this production. New York playwright Eno (b. 1965) has developed cult status for his non-linear intense examinations of human nature, but I saw little to be excited about here, perhaps showing how, at least for some writers, the quality of the production is critical in seeing the quality of the play. For me there was none of the excitement of the original production as described by the breathless critics in NYC and London, and I wish I could have seen the original instead of this pallid star-vehicle.