The poster graphic for this piece should win an award. It conveys, in a quick second, not only the mood of the play, but a specific message with simplicity and impact. It's clever, clean, and even suggests the era of the work. Nicely done by Luba Lukova.

The staging, set, and lighting also couch the presentation aptly, simply, and artfully. Tiny wheels enable the individual cylindrical jail cells to mobilize via prisoner foot power. A cable extends from each side of the stage (positive and negative, presumably) to connect with the subject for an electrifying experience. The bed of husband/wife tension props up nearly 80 degrees to give us (the audience) that fly on the ceiling up-closeness. And lastly, the costuming echoes the motif's basic statement. All, very well done.

As for the music, the instrumental performances play clean. Most of the numbers are modern in nature; that is, freer and open in melody and chord progression, but sans a strong hook or chorus that listeners can hang on to. That said, the handful of more “pop” tunes add anchors to the score. Some songs are beautifully realized in voice, others, not so much. Without the assistance of amplification, the performers attempt to fill the room with just their vocal muscle – and almost succeed. Perhaps for the first couple of rows, they do succeed. I sat at 3/4's depth from the stage and found myself cupping my ear to manually amplify the singers.

“Through numbers the mystery of life is revealed.” I enjoyed the spoken number theme. “Mrs. Twelve said to me, 'Mrs. Zero... ' Mrs. Twelve said.” and “The ones and twos are coming.” Earlier on, there's a very effective rhythmic number piece recited/sung by the 6 person office staff. Number utilization works throughout the play and never feels overused. Conversely, the play fails to be colorful in its prose language. In lyric and dialogue the characters speak in broad terms. “She dreams of leaving you, but doesn't have the nerve” is sung in a backing harmony to the unhappy wife's melody. Perhaps the writers felt that any poetic wording might “subtract” from the mundane tone sought. It's a bleak picture that's painted here -- a stereotypical, though likely oft-true life scenario: senseless dead-end job, bickering office politics, zero-communication between Mr. and Mrs. Zero, the inanely routine party conversation. It's enough to make someone go postal. These are the cogs of “Adding Machine.” Thankfully, eventually someone does go postal, and from there, the play takes on a more unpredictable and somewhat-less depressing tone.

Performances. Aside from some nicely sung pieces by Christine Horn as Mrs. Devour, Clifford Morts stands out. He's got magnificent presence and command even when indifferent. Morts is able to make Mr. Zero endearing despite his many and sometimes mammoth flaws. Finally, Morts brings Zero to life with all the zest of a Carroll O'Conner, Christopher Lloyd, or even, Art Carney.

Overall, while the work clearly gets its message across in the first half, it's not all that engrossing or emotive. However, eventually, “Adding Machine” slips in some moving parts, a few of which are comprised of racist rant. While this effectively raises the collective audience's blood pressure, I'm left questioning its necessity (goodness, does that make me one of the brain-washed?). Lastly, while the arc feels a bit limp, the play (by means of content and prop) physically comes to a conclusive full LED circle.

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