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The setup is simple enough: An American banker, Nick Bright (Justin Kirk), is captured by militants under the command of the Imam Saleem (the quietly authoritative Dariush Kashani) and compelled to pay his own ransom—$10 million worth—through his knowledge of finance. His closest thing to a sympathetic ear is Bashir (Usman Ally), the go-between who's tasked with making sure that Nick does what he's told and acting as Nick's hands and arms in lieu of giving him direct access to a computer. Over the weeks and months Nick must spend on this project, he and Bashir become closer both as friends and colleagues, with Bashir proving he's almost as capable as his captive of observing his surroundings and making split-second trading decisions based on what he sees. But if The Invisible Hand, the title of which derives from Adam Smith's metaphor for describing how individual choices silently affect economies, is the richest in plot of Akhtar's plays to date, it's also the most satisfying dramatically. Akhtar smartly weaves Nick's tiny concerns into a much broader philosophical discussion of the role the United States plays in global affairs, and whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. Nick is not ashamed to assert his beliefs that America constantly acts in everyone's best interests, a sentiment with which Bashir and the Imam do not readily agree, as they see primarily the devastation it's wrought on their own way of life—exactly the quality they're struggling now to reverse. The argument is a compelling one from the outset, but becomes even more across the play's lightning-quick two-hour running time. Nick's actions ripple throughout both the local concerns of this small group of revolutionaries and the political stage as markets, fortunes, and even governments begin to rise and fall as a result. This, in turn, feeds still more unrest and puts Nick in the position of bankrolling doom for someone, though whether it's him, his captors, or even an entire country may not necessarily be determinable at any given point. But there are so many twisty developments that you, like the people you're watching, never stay in one place for long. (And don't worry: The complex underlying economic theories are all clearly explained, so you don't need to fear getting lost in that way.) There might, however, be a few too many threads tangling up matters. One of Nick's obsessions apparently exists only to provide a suspenseful first-act curtain, but its impact is utterly dissolved within seconds of returning from intermission. And not all the characters are well sketched: Nick doesn't make a sufficiently vivid case for American interventionism to suggest he really buys into his own words; a fourth onstage figure, Dar (Jameal Ali), one of the Imam's soldiers, is poorly developed and utilized; and though a few important people in Nick's life are name-checked (such as his wife and boss), no one much cares that he's missing for the better part of a year. All that seems to exist, then, are the world and moment of the play; believing anything other than them is a challenge. But Riccardo Hernandez's set, which depicts both a cave-like holding cell and a more opulent makeshift prison, is outstanding at defining the borders of the reality, and Tyler Micoleau has lit it with sharp, shocking effectiveness. Director Ken Rus Schmoll maintains that same atmosphere in his staging, a jagged and angry evocation of the powerful competing feelings at work. He's also done superb work with the actors, guiding Kirk to a masterful portrayal of resourcefulness in the face of shattered hopes and reality-cracked optimism; and Ally to find every shading in a man who's at once magnetic and enigmatic. You believe that both are victims of their circumstances, and that they need each other for the salvation that eludes them. Whether that salvation can ever be found in the dollars and rupees the two men are pushing is the open question of the evening. Akhtar's answer, as evidenced by Schmoll's final, haunting stage picture is inconclusive; it has to be, because of money's ability to buy good as easily as evil, and humanity's own frequent inability to tell the two apart. But what Akhtar makes obvious is that that power and influence must be respected, because to ignore it is to invite peril. Akhtar could make that point with a bit less fat and a bit more detail, but it's difficult to imagine many changes that could make The Invisible Hand more engrossing than it already is.
The Invisible Hand
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