Courting Dark Emotions in ‘See What I Wanna See’ and a Celine Song Play

The title of Michael John LaChiusa’s “See What I Wanna See” suggests a single perspective, but the show actually offers a kaleidoscopic approach to the truth. It ravels out one story about a murder and a rape only to follow it up, in Rashomon-like fashion, with variations on the same tale that features a businessman, his wife and a sociopath.

In this Out of the Box Theatrics revival of LaChiusa’s 2005 musical, loosely adapted from short stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa, the doomed husband is first represented by a puppet and is later played by Kelvin Moon Loh. In one version, he is knifed by the sociopath (Sam Simahk), and his wife (Marina Kondo) is raped; in another, his wife cheats on her “patronizing” husband, who kills himself out of grief.

Indeterminacy — of the truth, of storytelling writ large — is the driving theme and it requires a precise balance. Happily, this production, directed by Emilio Ramos and featuring an Asian American and Pacific Islander cast, never lets us determine which multiverse is the “real” one. And having a puppet portray the husband before substituting a real actor (to play his spirit) is another clever way of shifting our certainties — or alliances.

The second act centers on a priest (Zachary Noah Piser), whose faith is waning after 9/11. His life is like “a sentence in which every word seems to be missing a letter.” Tired of providing absolution, he posts a message about an imminent miracle. News spreads like wildfire — or a conspiracy theory — in the song “Gloryday.”

As original as these stories are, “See What I Wanna See” is strewed with clichés: The thief sings about being the “devil in disguise,” and the husband, resuscitated as a ghost by a medium (a delightful Ann Sanders), needs “some sort of release.” If the lyrics are not on par with, say, the great, similarly macabre “Sweeney Todd,” the actors (especially the compelling Kondo) keep us on our toes through quicksilver changes in mood.

Though tonally different, the two acts feel like different shows rather than two halves of the same musical. What binds them are sequences about two lovers in medieval Japan that precede each act. They are told first from the perspective of the woman, Kesa (Kondo), and then her lover, Morito (Simahk). Both end as Kesa is about to plunge a knife into Morito’s throat. Whose is the truer tale? It’s impossible to say.