A quiet, unassuming man sits in a folding chair center stage in The Man Himself. There's nothing remarkable about him: He wears a light gray uniform, and a corporate I.D. badge hangs around his neck. On first impression he seems to be a guy you'd see sweeping the halls of an office building — a person immediately forgotten.
This lack of presence in the character, Michael, is at the heart of Alan Drury's play The Man Himself, as adapted (with Mark Williams) and performed by Ami Dayan. As the piece unfolds with quiet intensity, we witness this nondescript man transform from a relatively complacent everyman to a dangerous fanatic.
Initially it's easy to dismiss Michael's complaints about the company he works for and his co-workers; they seem like minor disgruntlements. But when this disenchantment is combined with his failed marriage and his self-perceived superiority, a new acquaintance, Richard, who introduces him to a group filled with "good Christian folks," has little difficulty in stoking the smoldering embers of bigotry that lie just below Michael's surface placidity.
Before our protagonist reaches his boiling point, marvelous small details foreshadow his transformation. Michael Ou's shrewd lighting often casts a huge shadow of Dayan (who sits almost throughout) against the theatre's back wall, bringing to mind black-and-white newsreels of Hitler and Mussolini. The character's moustache even evokes the German leader's signature facial attribute.
Dayan never signals the transformation to come. He maintains a subdued intensity throughout, and his gentle demeanor makes the final moments all the more chilling. When Michael abruptly rises from the folding chair, denouncing minorities, gays, and reproductive rights, one sees how little it takes to turn a "nobody" into a frighteningly dangerous would-be "somebody."
Presented by Maya Productions at 59E59 Theaters, 59 E. 59th St., NYC. Sept. 10-Oct. 1. Tue.-Fri., 8:30 p.m.; Sat., 2:30 and 8:30 p.m.; Sun., 3:30 and 7:30 p.m. (212) 279-4200 or www.ticketcentral.com.