Adding Machine, The

Elmer Rice wrote The Adding Machine in 1923. It was the first American foray into expressionism, and its best scenes successfully Americanize the bleak comedy of Carl Sternheim. It's the story of poor Mr. Zero, a bookkeeper who's replaced by an adding machine. Worse, he's executed for then murdering his boss. Thereafter, we find our hero in the afterlife. Imbued with the American work ethic, he escapes heaven in a panic when he learns that all they do there is enjoy themselves. He elects instead to count, summing up sand and pebbles. He meets his now-deceased wife on the beach, and she explains to him nothing other than the facts of -- Holy Krishna! -- reincarnation. But it's a strange sort of reincarnation, and a confused one. Mrs. Z. berates our man because he hasn't learned anything in his last embodiment -- we might expect this. But, rather contrarily, she and the playwright make it clear: "They use a soul until it's worn out." It's a bleaker vision than anything in the Bhagavad Gita.

As produced by Mobius Goup Productions in the New York International Fringe Festival, The Adding Machine is absolutely terrific. Director Jonathan Silver understands the essence of expressionism: the elements of the stage event must have an effect directly, even aside from their function in the play. He knows as well that we have access to that style through the mechanics of Brechtian acting, and this production has some stunningly deft performances. To begin with, Paul Marcarelli is brilliant as Mr. Zero. When the moment demands, he's as still as a lump; at others, he gestures as if his arms belonged to someone else, so disjointed is this character. Zero is so remarkably single-minded, he seems scarcely aware of his surroundings, like a horse wearing blinders. It's a masterpiece of representational acting. Cynthia Carrol is no less commanding as his disappointed and shrewish wife. The first scene is her long monologue; she lays on the speech patterns of a limited and frustrated personality.

The second half proves less pithy than the first, and neither director nor cast quite overcomes the lack of dramatic tension. The character of Mrs. Zero changes drastically into a sort of eternal facilitator, and she lacks definition; Ms. Carroll is less successful here. Dan da Silva is terrific as a shady character that our Mr. Z. meets in the afterlife (he's murdered his mother. Ugh.). He gives a pointed performance in a role that might otherwise lack specificity. But with little to contribute to the action, he's oddly unconnected to the other characters.