Off-Broadway Review: 'The Receptionist' Explores Power, Control, and Office Tyranny

The Receptionist, Adam Bock’s latest Off-Broadway play, premiered Thursday at the Pershing Square Signature Center, presented by Second Stage. Clocking in at 80 minutes, the production teases its central revelation for roughly 40 minutes before delivering a sharp critique of workplace power structures.

The sterile office setting—designed by Dots—immediately evokes the anxiety of cubicle life. At its heart is the reception desk, where Katie Finneran’s Beverly enforces order with an iron fist disguised as politeness. She meticulously cleans crumbs with a handheld vacuum, polices her coworkers’ pen usage, and silently judges those who dare disrupt her domain. Her boss, Edward (Nael Nacer), and colleague Lorraine (Mallori Johnson) operate behind closed doors, leaving Beverly to micromanage their messes—both literal and metaphorical.

Enter Martin (Will Pullen), a messenger from the Central Office. Their first clash over Beverly’s prized ink pens reveals a deeper truth: Martin wields real authority, not Beverly. His bold red socks—visible when his trousers ride up—symbolize his unapologetic power, contrasting sharply with Beverly’s performative control. The tension escalates as Lorraine and Martin exchange knowing glances, hinting at a flirtation Beverly silently resents.

Direction and Performances

Sarah Benson’s direction thrives in the play’s pivotal three-way scene, where lust and power collide. Outside this moment, the production stumbles, with Finneran’s mannerisms occasionally overshadowing the narrative. Her Beverly is a masterclass in repressed tyranny, but the play’s momentum falters until Edward casually mentions breaking a client’s finger—a line that jolts Beverly (and the audience) into uncomfortable awareness. The revelation suggests that Beverly’s petty fascism may be the least of the office’s sins.

Themes and Critique

Bock’s script leaves the Central Office’s true nature ambiguous, forcing audiences to imagine its horrors. For one reviewer, the second act fails to deliver the promised depth, leaving the play’s central question unanswered: What does it mean to be a fascist in a world where power is already unevenly distributed?

The production’s strengths lie in its sharp observations of workplace dynamics, but its uneven pacing and underdeveloped second act prevent it from fully realizing its potential. Still, Finneran’s performance and the play’s unsettling premise make it a provocative, if flawed, evening of theater.