Hamish Linklater and Miriam Silverman Photo by Jeremy Daniel

This emphasis on the grand visual adornments might seem to be at odds with one of the principal objectives of Audible Theater, the show's producer. Since 2018, Audible has developed an impressive repository of audio recordings of productions and performances, many captured live at the Minetta Lane. Listeners of The Disappear, therefore, would be well-advised to peruse productions photos before streaming this featured title; unfortunately, the aural and dramaturgical aspects of The Disappear are not as rewarding as the mise-en-scène, which also includes Cha See's moody lighting and Jennifer Moeller and Miriam Kelleher's cheeky costumes.

The plot centers around film director Benjamin Braxton (Hamish Linklater), who is in a fallow creative period, and his highly successful novelist wife Mira Blair (Miriam Silverman). The passionate intimacy of the couple's marriage has dissipated, but they are at least domestically compatible. (Mira says that while they are no longer romantic, Ben is her "best friend.") They continue to share their works-in-progress with each other, and they appear to relish their daily sparring. They also remain tethered, or so Ben claims, for the sake of their precocious 16-year-old daughter Dolly (Anna Mirodin). A budding ecological activist, Dolly is prone to ominous proclamations like, "Climate trauma is real!"

The play's title refers to Ben's latest project, a horror film about a husband who jokingly wishes death upon his wife. Overhearing this, the wife character willfully vanishes and mysteriously haunts her husband, eventually driving him mad. As the play proceeds, the director's life begins to mirror his own movie's pitch.

The potential star of this picture, against the dictates of Ben's officious, longtime producer, Michael Bloom (Dylan Baker), is Julie Wells (Madeline Brewer), a daft, B-level starlet with a penchant for assuming a British accent and wearing beribboned bonnets and Victorian blouses. In their first meeting, Julie becomes Ben's muse and lover.

Ben and Mira's relationship is further strained by the arrival of Raf Night (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), a breakout Hollywood talent and devotee of Mira's work. Raf's involvement is contingent upon Ben and Mira collaborating on the movie, and professional and personal jealousies threaten to overwhelm the picture.

Schmidt is also the director, and the tone veers from screwball comedy to Hollywood send-up to dark social satire, and as an audience member, it's hard to get one's bearings. In the relationship of Ben and Mira, for instance, there are times in which they seem to have sprung from a Noël Coward comedy or are channeling Tracy and Hepburn. In these scenes the dialogue fairly sparkles, such as when Mira accuses Ben of "always lying–just a little bit." He responds with a shrug, "At least I'm honest about it."

Linklater's Ben is a volatile mix of manic energy and emotional outbursts. As a filmmaker mired in a mid-life crisis (a trope bordering on the cliché), he is rather despicable, but we don't see the flashes of charm that would explain the magnetism he supposedly exerts. Silverman is far more successful, offering a completely endearing performance that balances Mira's roles as a resilient wife, mother, and a world-renowned novelist. She is alternately supportive, steely, and, when wooed by an alluring fan, coquettish.

The exchanges with the film producer and actors (all wittily portrayed here by Baker, Brewer, and Harrison) poke fun at the excessiveness and presumed vapidness of Hollywood celebrity. Yet these depictions, along with the escalating battle of the sexes, are at odds with the more pressing issue of global warming. There are not-so-subtle references to climate disasters, including the Los Angeles fires, and the impending effects are keenly felt in the immediate surroundings of the Hudson River ancestral home. The final images (which will also be lost on Audible listeners) suggest there are much darker forces affecting the characters' lives than crumbling marriages and variable movie careers.

The Disappear echoes the Chekhovian interweaving of comedy and tragedy, capturing the absurdity of human connection against a backdrop of impending cataclysm. Unlike Chekhov, however, Schmidt has not fully integrated the elements, and the characters and events remain at loose ends.