“Harm reduction.” That’s the purpose of smoking, according to the title character in The Smoker, a world premiere by Lisa D’Amour presented by the Contemporary American Theater Festival (CATF) in Shepherdstown, West Virginia. Smoking reduces anxiety and forms a basis for social connections among people that might otherwise not occur.  Outside of a middle-working-class apartment building in New York City, the Smoker (Brad Fleischer) and other residents talk casually with one another. The Smoker himself is a 30-something man trying to navigate a broken marriage, economic insecurity, and his own aimlessness. Fleischer plays the role with a kind of cheerful desperation, hoping that better things are just around the corner. As a white man with an affluent brother, he has a safety net that other characters lack. He becomes the anchor of an informal community that forms over the ritual of lighting and smoking cigarettes.  Brad Fleischer as The Smoker in ‘The Smoker.’ Photo by Seth Freeman. Roberto (Orlando Arriaga), originally from Mexico, looks forward to his annual week in Miami. Aside from his smoke breaks in front of the building, he is on the move: to his job, to church, to caring for his family. Tonya (Danielle Davenport), an African-American pet-sitter and poet, wants to move to be closer to her girlfriend, who is opening a restaurant in Brooklyn. The other principal character is Kim (Regina Gibson), an opera singer who struggles to get gigs. In addition to fine comic timing, Gibson capably handles the snatches of opera music the role calls for. The final cast member, Vivia Font, does triple duty as Ruthie, an unhoused woman who asks the other characters for money; the Smoker’s estranged wife, Miranda; and a taciturn woman walking a dog. Font nicely defines these very different characters.  The dog, it should be noted, is invisible, as is the Smoker’s young daughter, other residents of the building, a raccoon, and oftentimes even the smoke from the characters’ cigarettes. In her interview for the online program, D’Amour comments that this is both for practical reasons and to suggest that people often don’t see others in their midst, especially people or creatures that are vulnerable. D’Amour says the play is explicitly a critique of capitalism and “the way capitalism tries to keep us separate and not embrace our shared humanity and tenderness.” She adds: We’re too busy trying to make money, or too busy worrying if we have enough money, or too busy trying to keep up with multiple jobs to pay for our kids’ private school because public schools aren’t good enough, or too busy to create our own backyard garden that our neighbors can help us with, or too busy to even have time to go to the grocery store so we Instacart. Capitalism needs us to be in that kind of constant state of panic so we keep buying things. Consistent with this intent, D’Amour fills her play with a catalog of very real difficulties faced by people trying to survive late-stage capitalism: failing small businesses, tax debts that wipe out savings, costly and inadequate health insurance, lack of funding for the arts, white privilege, homelessness, mental health issues, bureaucratic systems that deny assistance to those who most need it, and peoples’ value being determined by the money they have or lack.  Danielle Davenport (Tonya) and Brad Fleischer (The Smoker) in ‘The Smoker.’ Photo by Seth Freeman. Aware of the peril of being didactic, D’Amour says, “You’re trying to hide what you’re talking about in something very casual, and hopefully by the end of the play, the audience realizes what we were talking about the whole time.” In this, the script does not wholly succeed. Too often a character seems, in a not particularly well-hidden way, to function more as a representative of a particular sort of problem than as a fully realized person.  D’Amour’s writing for the play relies heavily on monologues. Some of them are excellent. Kim’s chronicle of the details of a hypothetical but all-too-common hookup experience with a less-than-stellar man is the comic highlight of the play. Tonya delivers a remarkable poem (according to the program, one written by New Orleans poet Sunni Patterson) to the group, as well as a moving eulogy of one of the other characters. At times, this structure works against the conversational tone that the play seeks to establish. This issue may be in part a matter of the show’s staging. It is presented in the main auditorium in Shepherd University’s Frank Arts Center, a large house with a wide stage. Director Shelly Butler understandably wants to occupy the breadth of the playing area, often creating symmetrical, balanced stage pictures. An effect of these choices is that actors often stand farther apart from one another than would be the case in most casual conversations. Notwithstanding what they are saying, they sometimes don’t look and feel like they are conversing. It would be interesting to see a production in a more intimate venue. Michael Raiford’s set design features rows of window frames, each with a window air conditioner (one of which tumbles earthward in a moment of dark humor), representing a real apartment building. The building behind the windows, like other elements of the play, is invisible, suggesting the universality of the play’s themes beyond the specificity of its location. Sinan Refik Zafar’s sound design provides the noise of an occasional passing train, but otherwise the background is unnaturally quiet, absent the ambient NYC roar that is so characteristic of the place.  The costumes (Lex Liang and Sydney Dufka) are very character specific: bright yellow for Tonya, Kim in blues, the Smoker in neutral shades, Roberto in comfortable, working-class-looking reds and blacks. Vivia Font’s costumes are as varied as her three characters. One good touch is that Ruthie’s costumes are markedly different when she is on and off her meds.  Even as their nicotine-enabled community begins to fade away, as characters move on to other things or places, The Smoker’s characters do not lose hope. Their difficulties are real, and the play does not provide solutions to structural matters that are beyond individual efforts. But the play upholds the value — indeed, the necessity — of human connection, whatever the circumstances. Running Time: 85 minutes with no intermission. The Smoker plays through August 2, 2026, presented by the Contemporary American Theater Festival, performing in the Frank Arts Center on the campus of Shepherd University, 260 West Campus Drive, Shepherdstown, WV, in repertory with four other plays. Tickets, priced at $75 ($67 for seniors and $65 for students), are available online. Times, dates, and ticketing information for the full festival may be found on the CATF website or by calling the CATF box office at 681-240-2283. SEE ALSO:Contemporary American Theater Festival announces casts and creative teams for 2026 mainstage season (news story, June 20, 2026) ...read more read less