‘The Other Place” is billed as “a riveting new thriller.” That’s putting it loosely.
The play is less riveting than it is reasonably engaging. It’s not entirely new, either, having premiered downtown two years ago. As for the “thriller” tag, let’s just say the decorous Manhattan Theatre Club is behind this Broadway transfer, so don’t expect fisticuffs.
In other words, fans of the Bourne franchise may want to sit this one out.
Yet Sharr White’s drama — ably directed by Joe Mantello (“Other Desert Cities”) — does deliver twists and turns. They just take place inside the head of the central character, Dr. Juliana Smithton.
Juliana is in every single one of the show’s 85 minutes. More, actually, since she’s already onstage, coolly checking out her phone, while the audience files in the theater.
Luckily, this daunting role is played by the formidable Laurie Metcalf, who created it for MCC Theater in 2011.
While Metcalf remains best known for her stint on the sitcom “Roseanne,” she’s shown, in plays like “Balm in Gilead” and “A Lie of the Mind,” to be among our most intense stage presences.
And Juliana is nothing if not intense.
The first impression she makes is one of perfect poise. Dressed in a business suit, she recounts a trip to St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, for a medical conference. Once a neuroscientist, Juliana is now hawking a drug she helped create. Her tongue is as sharp as her outfit — nobody messes with this woman.
In a series of short, seemingly disconnected scenes, we see Juliana address the convention, bicker with her husband, Ian (Daniel Stern), and consult with a physician, Dr. Teller (Zoe Perry, Metcalf’s real-life daughter, in one of several roles).
It’s clear Juliana’s going through a rough patch, not only with Ian but with their daughter, Laurel (Perry), and son-in-law, Richard (John Schiappa).
Her way of dealing seems to be sardonic humor. Asked, by her doctor, if she’s entertaining suicidal thoughts, Juliana retorts, “Dating them actually. But they won’t put out.”
Little by little, we realize this steely-looking woman is a completely unreliable narrator. White plays around with locales and chronology so our perceptions are as scrambled as Juliana’s. Eugene Lee and Edward Pierce’s haunting set design incorporates dozens of glassless window frames, which suggests both looking out and being caged.
Metcalf tracks her character’s gradual collapse with fierce empathy and painstaking precision — we see madness gnawing at her mind like a mouse feasting on a piece of cheese.
When Juliana’s anguish hits full force, it’s like a punch in the gut — all thanks to Metcalf, because the writing isn’t as compelling as her performance.
Indeed, the show levels out after we understand what’s really going on, and White throws in some unconvincing coincidences before resorting to a pat wrap-up. It’s almost besides the point: The play is a vehicle for a valiant star, and Metcalf steers it with fearless confidence.