The Tenant

Site-specific, peripatetic theater is enjoying a mini-boom this summer. First we had Punchdrunk's "Sleep No More," the dreamlike smash-up between Hitchcock and Shakespeare over five floors of a Chelsea hotel. Now we've got "The Tenant," from Woodshed Collective, which transforms Roland Topor's novel, also the basis for Roman Polanski's 1976 film, into a multilevel nightmare in an Upper West Side church. The original work and Polanski's brilliantly chilly adaptation focus on Trelkovsky, a pathetic Everyman type who moves into a new Paris apartment after Simone, its previous tenant, has hurled herself from the building's roof. In a series of Kafkaesque encounters, Trelkovsky develops a neurotic fear of his neighbors and believes they are conspiring to force him to assume Simone's personality.

For this version, Woodshed commissioned six playwrights—Bekah Brunstetter, Sarah Burgess, Paul Cohen, Dylan Dawson, Steven Levenson, and Tommy Smith—to develop storylines for the neighbors, who are depicted tangentially in the original novel and film. Each has his or her own living space, and audience members follow them around various playing spaces in the church. Film clips depicting Trelkovsky's continuing conflicts in the building are played on TV sets in each of the locations. But the story is still difficult to follow. If I hadn't seen the Polanski film, I wouldn't have known what was going on. The various plotlines are played out simultaneously, so unless you return for subsequent performances, the fragmentary nature of the enterprise makes comprehension nearly impossible. Fortunately, admission is free.

Based on the single performance attended, I was slightly intrigued by the multiple storylines, but there are so many of them and they are so splintered that any single one lacks impact. In addition to Trelkovsky's existential dilemma, we can peek in on the oppressive marriage of Monsieur and Madame Zy, who receive a visit from the enigmatic Carole, a former colleague of Madame Zy's, who conceals a bizarre secret about the couple's dead son. Then there's Alain, a racist would-be singer, who gets his jollies playing menacing Pinteresque party games with a bland couple celebrating their first anniversary. Let's not forget the snide concierge and her battle for control over the building with the officious Madame Dioz. There were many other characters listed in the single-sheet program, but I didn't get to them. Ultimately, I was more confused than mesmerized.

Directors Teddy Bergman and Stephen Brackett achieve some tension-filled moments, particularly in the scary climax, but they fail to overcome the diffuse structure. It's nearly impossible to judge the actors, because one can only see their work in flashes, but Michael Crane makes an intensely questing Trelkovsky, and Ian Unterman unreservedly inhabits the piggish Alain.

The most fascinating aspect of the production is Gabriel Hainer Evansohn's detailed production design, which creates an entire world of shabby attempted elegance and buried mysteries. As an art installation, "The Tenant" succeeds, but not as drama.

Presented by Woodshed Collective at West-Park Presbyterian Church, 169 W. 86th St., NYC. Aug. 24–Oct. 1. Wed.–Fri., 8 p.m.; Sat., 7 and 10:30 p.m. (No performance Thu., Aug. 25.) www.woodshedcollective.com.