Read our review of ANON, a new comedy-drama from playwright Anne Washburn and director Anne Kauffman, running at MCC Theater through November 1.

As a portrait of a woman who falls down the rabbit hole of alt-right conspiratorial thinking, Anne Washburn’s ANON is tragically a little dull. In spite of Crystal Finn’s best efforts, there’s something about her character, bored housewife and mom Jeanie, that feels incomplete and hazy. Finn gives Jeanie a roiling restlessness and a brief fantasy of being valorized for her efforts as a patriotic information warrior, yet the character seems strangely inscrutable in director Anne Washburn’s production. We see TikToks and posts that show Jeanie at her most delusional, but her tirades about pride flags and antisemitic cliches are only one part of a personhood the play seems disinclined to reveal.

However, as a bleakly comic study of two middle-aged gay men who become obsessed with their MAGA neighbor, ANON fares far better. Across the street from Jeanie, Adam (Jeff Biehl) and Will (Jeremy Shamos) have just moved to San Antonio, and the realization that their neighbor is a homophobe who spends hours online trying to unearth tenuous truths online like a self-proclaimed messiah gives the couple their own path of virtue. It also makes them question whether the cul-de-sac life is really for them if hostility will always be around the corner.

At the same time, they speculate and project onto a woman who is literally a stone’s throw from their house but whom they know basically only from her online presence. Jeanie’s rants become their obsession, opening up another, similarly gaping hole for the pair to fall into, and whose bottom offers much the same psychosis that QAnon does for Jeanie.

Jeanie’s story, sometimes sprinkled with humor, is representative of families divided by politics, the swirling vortex of internet doomscrolling, and a roughly executed attempt at humanizing accidental cult members while trying to take seriously their feelings of righteousness. In contrast, Adam and Will’s story is a cleverly sardonic examination of the limits of assimilation and the endless fascination gay people have with fabulously off-their-rocker women, or at least their flat perceptions of them. Whatever the threat she might pose to them, the two return to her because Jeanie’s kookiness is so appealing yet out of reach. She’s easy to project onto because she reveals so little of herself.

That’s good for the men’s storyline, but it’s less productive for Jeanie’s own. She remains fairly inaccessible throughout the show save for a second-act monologue in which she tries to explain how she knows she seems like a “crazy lady.” It is a stirring piece of writing that tries to get into the character’s head but still remains insufficient. This chunk of writing nods to why social media platforms are useful places for Jeanie to communicate her thoughts in ways other parts of her reality fall short, but the show as a whole keeps her inner life concealed and at a distance. She can be little else than what she is to the gay couple across the street fantasizing about her derangement: someone with great hair and wild opinions.

ANON summary

Housewife and mother Jeanie struggles as the wedges between her husband and daughter grow and her time online in QAnon spaces warp her reality. Her neighbors, a gay couple recently arrived in San Antonio from Philadelphia, find her social media accounts and develop their own fascination with her.

What to expect at ANON

ANON is a projection-heavy show, with Jared Mezzocchi’s work leaning heavily into showing the hours that fly by while Jeanie’s on her computer, the dreamy talk show she fantasizes about being on, and the various texts she sends to family members. A lot of this feels a bit unnecessary, but the show is caught between a rock and a hard place in terms of visualizing the internet and smartphone communication.

Its best use of projection is in the show’s back half during a storm, as Jeanie’s face looms large in Adam and Will’s home and the screens on the top and side show tree branches whipping around in a kind of infrared black-and-white style.

ANON runs 2 hours and 5 minutes, including one intermission.

What audiences are saying about ANON

ANON has received mixed reviews from theatregoers, with a 67% average audience approval rating on the review aggregator Show-Score.

“This excellent well written play is so relevant to our times when we see how our lives are consumed by the politics currently dividing us and the influence of social media and how most people are consumed by it one way or the other. Riveting dialogue performed by an excellent cast.” – Show-Score user Anthony Naccari
“Tense drama of political conflict among neighbors in MAGA America. Well-written and well-acted. Perhaps a little over-the-top… but thought-provoking.” – Show-Score user Moose Murders
“Exploring the impact of social media on ‘nice’, normal’ people is a good idea. And this show did expose a number of clever insights. But in the end a satirical show about real behavior that is already satirical doesn’t work.” – Show-Score user dianefe

Read more audience reviews of ANON on Show-Score.

Who should see ANON

Fans of Anne Washburn’s rich and thought-provoking work, like her best-known Mr. Burns, should check out the playwright’s take on contemporary politics and online culture.
Theatregoers familiar with Crystal Finn will, like the gay couple across the street from her character, also become obsessed with her charming and witty performance.
Shakespeare lovers should check out ANON, which incorporates King Lear into the show.

Learn more about ANON off Broadway

ANON’s valiant effort to better understand social media psychosis and QAnon thinking is admirable, but it feels incomplete due to Jeanie’s inaccessibility as a character. But the show finds stronger footing as a satire of gay people’s unabashed love for questionable, but undeniably intriguing, women.

Learn more and get ANON tickets on New York Theatre Guide. ANON is at MCC Theater through November 1.

Photo credit: ANON off Broadway. (Photos by Monique Carboni)