Adam Langdon (foreground) as Christopher, with Gene Gillette and Felicity Jones Latta. Credit: Joan Marcus

Adam Langdon (foreground) as Christopher, with Gene Gillette and Felicity Jones Latta. Credit: Joan Marcus
At intermission of the Wednesday night performance of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the NIght-Time at the Straz, I saw what seemed like an unusual number of folks leaving. It might have been post-election fatigue — I heard more than one audience member say that staying up late to watch results had taken its toll. Maybe it was the West Country English accents that daunted them, or the fact that the storyline involves (horrors!) math, which for anyone tired of vote counts might have proven to be just too much to take. Or perhaps it was the central character himself, 15-year-old Christopher Boone, a math genius whose resistance to human connection (which may or may not place him on the autism spectrum, depending on which description of the play you want to read) can be as difficult to watch for an audience accustomed to say, musical-comedy uplift as it is for Christopher’s parents.

But for those who weren’t tuckered out or bewildered — and plenty of us did remain after intermission — Christopher’s saga was variously agonizing, exhilarating and very, very funny. Based on the best-selling novel by Mark Haddon, it begins with the teenager’s determination to figure out who killed a neighbor’s dog (a startling first image) and evolves into a sometime-harrowing journey in which he must question everything he clings to as true. Under the brilliantly inventive direction of Marianne Elliott (War Horse), 12 versatile actors play not only the characters in Christopher’s world but also embody everything from doorways to doormats to the roiling crowds in a London subway. The playing space is spare, ringed by white multi-purpose cubes and alive with evocative projections that amplify both the sense of order Christopher craves and the chaos he fears.

I saw the Tony-winning original on Broadway, and to some degree I think the touring version suffers from having to play to such a big venue (the Straz's Morsani Hall has twice the seating capacity of NY’s Ethel Barrymore). The powerful lighting effects are a tad less immersive, the intimate moments require a bit more strain to catch.

But… what an ensemble! And what effects!

As Christopher, Adam Langdon is a ganglier, more pugnacious presence than the actor who originated the role (the Tony-winning Alex Sharp) — and perhaps to some degree the size of Langdon’s performance may be a compensation for the larger house. But his focus and agility are extraordinary in their own right — and the fact that he’s not quite as immediately sympathetic as Sharp means that the moments in which he breaks, lets his mother or father tentatively reach out a hand to him, are extremely moving. He also captures with hilarious exactitude Christopher’s highly literal interpretation of language — as when he’s asked to “park himself” and he does just that, complete with backup beeps.

As his parents, Gene Gillette and Felicity Jones Latta capture with remarkable subtlety the love and frustration Christopher triggers in them— and the pain they feel when even the simple act of touching him is as fraught and potentially explosive as dismantling a bomb. Maria Elena Ramirez achieves a delicate balance — at once firm, patient and loving — as Siobhan, Christopher’s teacher and the adult he trusts most.

Siobhan is also the play’s narrator, the idea being that what we’re watching is a dramatization of Christopher’s journal, written under her guidance. Toward the end of the play, when Christopher launches into an explanation of a math problem he solved for a high-level exam, Siobhan interrupts, suggesting he wait till after the curtain call.

I suggest you stick around till then. You might not follow the reasoning, but Langdon’s enthusiasm is infectious, the animation illustrating the problem is elegant, and the solution is like the play itself: a thing of beauty, fully worthy of your time and concentrated attention.