Star Power on Vew in 'Sea Wall/A Life'

During a talkback at the performance of "Sea Wall/A Life" I attended, Dr. Oz (yes, that Dr. Oz) asked Tom Sturridge to reveal a major line of dialogue that his character, Alex, stops short of saying, involving the cruelest thing he ever did to anyone.

Sturridge rather keenly explained the importance of the character/audience connection and, kindly, refused to divulge what it was. I was relieved because so much of the power of "Sea Wall" stems from what isn't said–the moments that are either almost spoken or simply felt in the beats between words. The audience must do their work, filling in the blanks in Simon Stephen's haunting, complex and emotionally devastating one-act monologue.

(Stephens is one of the most daring dramatists working today. His play, "Punk Rock," produced by MCC in 2014, is still one of the most shattering experiences I have had at the theater in a long while.)

Alex, brilliantly embodied by Tom Sturridge, is telling a story about the two most important women in his life and, arguably, the most important man. He is explaining the joys of fatherhood and being a spouse. The monologue, though, is disjointed and Alex often seems slightly addled, unfocused and damaged. The shattering reveal explains why this man is so broken, why he seeks answers about the existence of God and why he continues to hope for explanations. "There's a hole running through the center of my stomach," he tells us.

To say much more about "Sea Wall" is to ruin the many dramatic highs of the piece. Suffice to say, Sturridge captivates, creeping into the anima of this young man–living there–and providing a portrait of loss and sorrow that is too real, nuanced and tragic. He works his way into our hearts and then, when his breaks, so do ours.

At my performance, a piece of the stairs (the set is bi-level) fell to the ground as Sturridge was running up. He stopped speaking and paused for a very long time before he continued, still in character but, most definitely shaken.

The second act monologue, "A Life," is written by Nick Payne (based on his real-life) and given life by Jake Gyllenhaal.

This piece has many more comic moments than the first and is less disjointed but bounces between two very different yet quite related tales, one involving Abe's daughter and the other, his father. (Abe is the name in the Playbill, but the character is never named in the monologue.)

Gyllenhaal expertly maneuvers the seesaw storytelling and the piece also has a number of tonal shifts which Gyllenhaal masters.

Midway through the play, Abe runs up one aisle, down another, then cutting across the front row, ad-libbing to a patron, "You can go back to sleep in a second," as he rushes by him. It was a hilarious bit but also a telling one. Too many audience members seemed to come to see a movie star on stage. What they got was a real person, hurting and trying to make sense of fatherhood, and, well, life.

Both one-acts are deftly directed by Carrie Cracknell and the fascinating if sparse, set is designed by Laura Jellinek. Both plays also allude to the TV show, "E.R." Is there a link? There is if you want there to be.

"A Life" doesn't quite have the force of "Sea Wall" but both are loving, quiet works that require full audience attention.

"Sea Wall/A Life" runs through Sept. 29, 2019, at the Hudson Theater, 145 West 44th St., Manhattan; 855-801-5876, seawallalife.com. Running time: 1 hour 45 minutes.