Amor is a laid-back dude. He likes dancing, is handy around the house, and, like most guys in their 20s, he crushes out on girls.
There’s just one problem: Amor’s a dead ringer for the suspect in a car bombing. The beard and hoodie probably don’t help.
In the follow-up to his devilishly clever 2011 comedy “Invasion!” playwright Jonas Hassen Khemiri tracks Amor in the 24 hours following the explosions.
A Tunisian-Swede, Khemiri was inspired to write the show after the 2010 suicide bombing in his hometown of Stockholm.
But it’s a little unclear where the show takes place.
The set design, by Daniel Zimmerman, is purposefully generic — the actors move around rows of folding chairs that mirror the ones for the audience. There are references to Sweden, but characters talk of going to Midtown, Times Square and Grand Central. Is this New York? Yet lines about elections to “parliament” and a “voter ID” pull us away from America.
Either this is a translation problem, or the intention is to suggest a combination of several big Western cities with an immigrant population and a concern about terrorism. But this also creates a problem with both the play and Erica Schmidt’s direction: Everything feels vague, a succession of barely connected vignettes.
The first inkling that something’s off is when Amor (Damon Owlia) comes home late from a nightclub and is greeted by frantic messages from his best friend, Shavi (Rachid Sabitri) — whose beanie, wispy facial hair and excitable disposition bring to mind Jesse Pinkman from “Breaking Bad.”
While Amor was getting drunk and partying, there was an explosion. And the suspect looks like, well, you know . . .
Suddenly, he must pay extra attention to the most innocuous things, like his appearance.
“The clothes should be anonymous,” Amor says. “But the clothes should not be too anonymous. They must not be so anonymous that they stick out in their anonymity.”
Sounds like a guy who doesn’t want to be noticed — but what’s the real reason?
Throughout the show, Khemiri makes us wonder about Amor. We’re pretty sure he really was out dancing. But what about the cryptic references to “brothers”? What if Amor’s actually done something?
Khemiri aims to describe the character’s growing doubts and unrest, and also to create a similar feeling in the audience — we don’t know what to think.
It’s a lofty ambition, but it isn’t realized. Characters pop in and out without effectively linking to either our narrator or the story.
And without this feeling of connection, it’s hard for the audience to muster much feeling of any kind for Amor.