Andrew Hinderaker’s “Suicide, Incorporated” is at first wickedly satirical, almost Kafkaesque: It concerns a firm called Legacy Letters, which specializes in crafting suicide notes. Since 80 percent of the roughly 35,000 people who kill themselves each year are men incapable of articulating their feelings, it’s certainly a growth industry.
Scott (Toby Leonard Moore), the company’s high-strung CEO, dreams of an international franchise and vets his job applicants carefully, in case someone’s a ringer for a suicide-prevention agency. He likes what he sees in Jason (Gabriel Ebert), a former Hallmark employee whose best work is a sympathy card reading “I have no words to tell you how sorry I am” on the cover, only to reveal a blank page inside.
Jason’s younger brother, Tommy (Jake O’Connor), is skeptical of the new gig. “It’s kind of a morbid profession you’ve chosen,” he points out. “Might be time to, like, buy a puppy.”
Jason’s first client is a despondent sad sack named Norm (a subtly moving James McMenamin) who’s just lost his wife and job. As they collaborate, it becomes clear that Jason has something more in mind than simply revising his client’s final farewell.
To reveal more would spoil the surprises. But it’s fair to say the astringent dark humor gives way to a more conventional, less interesting emotionalism.
The unevenness is further accentuated by the overbearing bossiness of Scott, which suggests the playwright may have seen “Glengarry Glen Ross” a few too many times. And the horrific secret behind Jason’s career change, revealed in a flashback, seems underdeveloped dramatically.
Still, this Roundabout Underground production reveals enough imagination to make one eager to see what this promising playwright offers next.