On a bare stage, the actors speak and move with the utmost casualness. I thought I was going to see a play, or a dance-theater work, instead  7 actors forgot they were in a theater and simply told me about some  events in their lives that happened to coincide with the start of the  war. Except: the story was completely deconstructed. We kept jumping  slightly forward, slightly backward in the timeline of events. Just as  you think you’ve figured out each character’s role in the events, they  seem to shift; maybe it was him in the hotel, not that other guy. I  initially couldn’t help but be completely engaged in the story. I felt  a driving need to figure it all out. And then there was the movement. At first you don’t even notice the  choreography. The man on stage is simply talking, gesturing as any of  us would. But there’s something off kilter, it’s not the right  gesture. It’s not even quite a gesture. An almost-gesture. Repeated.  Over and over and over. And then another. This is a group of people  with a very strange sense of equilibrium. In the end, the story was of little import to me. It was the movement  that made each character compelling, occasionally off-putting, and  always endearingly eccentric. -Keely Isaak Meehan