To all the points in recent posts: The production is maddeningly audience indifferent, performed as if we're not part of an artistic pact with the storytelling, devoid of any respect for our needs as witnesses. This not only keeps the house at arm's length, it allows the actors to appear only half invested in the job at hand: telling this tale. In the play's launch they're almost distracted, as if they were called in from a bar on 48th and asked to lend a hand.
Bigger picture: I couldn't get past what plays as an idea-free conceit: modern dress but not strategically representational of any subculture or geographic locale. Simply randomly chosen street clothes, a few oddities (Negga's attire is tacky suburban, then borrowed 1970s elegance, then just a hybrid: bourgeois chic). Is there a concept? A middle class couple with a (cliched) nouveau riche trajectory? If that's it, the style -- or lack thereof -- doesn't send up the demographic and its trappings, just half-ass capture an ugly swath of society.
As noted earlier, only Amber Grey made any acting impression on me last week, but I was too unengaged to fully judge anyone. The Porter business so put me off the evening, I never recovered. I was not alone.
"I'm a comedian, but in my spare time, things bother me." Garry Shandling