As Time Goes By

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Danny Brown’s As Time Goes By opens with an audacious bang—an orgasm, no less—and closes with a cathartic release, but it’s what happens in between that makes this 90-minute exploration of a casual encounter feel like we are flies on the wall and it’s rude to stare. Adam (Ephraim Birney) invites David (Joel Meyers) into his Upper West Side apartment, setting the stage for what he envisions as a no-strings-attached rendezvous. What’s promised is a quick, transactional fling—sex and then a swift exit. But nature intervenes in the form of a snowstorm, which forces David to stay the night and turns their brief encounter into a long, meandering conversation that neither man anticipates.

What follows is a series of digressions, as the two men chat about everything from sex and relationships to, well, just about everything else under the sun. The dialogue often veers into mundane territory, offering a disjointed yet oddly compelling window into the anxieties and desires that lurk beneath the surface of their fleeting connection. In a way, the snowstorm becomes a metaphor for the emotional deadlock between them, trapping both characters in a liminal space where intimacy is both avoided and desperately sought.

While the conversation may not always captivate, its premise—one that hinges on the unpredictability of human connection—remains intriguing. However, it’s hard to ignore the tension between the initial promise of a quick fling and the long, drawn-out conversation that ultimately defines their encounter. The result is a work that wrestles with the idea of how we fill the spaces between moments of intimacy—and whether we even have the language to fully express what it means to truly connect.

Despite Adam’s disdain for small talk, As Time Goes By ironically seems to be entirely built on it. It is Adam’s defense mechanism rather than letting a person in and perhaps getting too close. More of a series of debates than a narrative-driven drama, the play serves up a veritable laundry list of topics that rarely find such unabashed expression on stage: Grindr, bottoming vs topping, fasting for practicality (when you’re a bottom), douching (when you’re a bottom), the difference between porn and real sex, PrEP (and what it signals), monogamy, dating someone who is POZ, therapy, the male G-spot, what you’ll discuss with a physician and what you’ll absolutely keep to yourself, moving to New York as a “Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore and New York is not a solution to your problems” moment, and even the plot of Casablanca.

While some of these exchanges are sharp, funny, and insightful, the sheer accumulation of fragmented, casual chatter makes clear David expected more from the night and will keep the conversation going and Adam sees the weather outside as the enemy. It isn’t until the final moments that the dialogue deepens, shifting from triviality to something more personal. As Adam and David open up about their exes, and actually David’s only ex that he mentions was another one-nighter like this one, accusations emerge forcing Adam to reckon with his own emotional limitations.

Birney’s portrayal of Adam is far from an easy character to embrace. Abrupt, jaded, and obsessive-compulsive, (his OCD is front and center when he has to battle David to wash a spoon David just moments before used to eat yogurt), Adam is a protagonist whose emotional walls are as high as they are unyielding. While much of this can be easily attributed to a personality that is tightly wound, it is behavior that reeks of someone who can’t ever humanize his own demeanor and makes his emotional life journey a never-ending challenge. This gives him no real opportunity to let anyone in. It goes without saying there are a lot of gay men out there for whom this is a calling card. Adam goes so far as to describe such men sitting in gay bars in their 60s still seeing themselves in their 20s. If he’s not careful he is doomed to become one of them.

In contrast to Birney, Meyers’ David brings to life the wide-eyed innocence of a 24-year-old romantic, eager to chase his dreams of someone to truly click with in the bustling chaos of the big city. However, beneath his youthful optimism lies a quieter undercurrent of fear and heartbreak. In a brief lapse of subject matter, David naively suggests they pick up where they left off in bed. If Adam were any further from that option, he’d be out on the road directing Sanitation’s snow removal for the potential Ubers himself. Adam’s “NO!” is indubitably final. That ship sailed when he changed the bedding. The dynamic between these two characters is striking, with their opposing personalities clashing in ways that, at their best, feel both authentic and deeply poignant.

Director Noah Eisenberg’s staging choices, particularly the extended scenes where the actors sit on the floor creating a sense of intimacy, interestingly enough belie the character’s inner monologues. David is hurt when he isn’t taken seriously and Adam dismisses his own playacting, finally admitting he has intentionally been a lousy host. Further, despite the characters having earlier engaged in sex acts, their awkwardness and unrealistic shyness while dressing creates faux-demure moments that are sweet in their own way.

The production values here are notably strong for an Off-Broadway show. Baron E. Pugh’s realistic studio apartment is a triumph with the brick wall on one end and a slender center hallway creating a depth that helps us envision Adam having enough room to pace when he is alone. This, complemented by spare furniture, convincingly establishes the world in which the play unfolds. Eric Norbury’s lighting hints at the weather outside and Jess Gersz’s costumes simply suggest comfort (and the fact they didn’t expect to stay dressed for long) further enhancing the overall aesthetic and helping to create a visually cohesive and immersive experience.

For Adam, it’s a far cry from “it’s… I have a… you know… after… a rhythm…And I expected… a quiet night” as he explains away why he is so agitated and finding fault with David needing a towel for a shower and then shrieking at him as he drips water on the floor, to his explaining away of gay marriage, a philosophy that drove the wedge between he and his ex, Jordan: “I don’t think getting married and settling down is what being gay is all about. God or biology or whatever it is out there gave us something else. The whole purpose of getting married is to have kids and pass whatever you got on to them: genes, money, and property. I’m a renter who can’t procreate. I’m exempt! I keep what I’ve made. I don’t have to share it, not with my kids, and not with my partner. I’ve won. So why the alternative? Why get married?” and finally the voicemail he leaves for his ex after David leaves.

Ultimately, he makes a choice that feels both brave and redemptive: to break free from his old habits and embrace the vulnerability he has long avoided. “Hey, it’s Adam. You’ve probably deleted me from your phone, but if you haven’t… I am so sorry. I want to change and I am willing to do it for you because… I love you, Jordan. I want to be with you. So much that it hurts. I love you.” Part of us will want Jordan to return the phone call…that’s the part of us that doesn’t want to see anyone die alone. The playwright has given us a very disturbing piece of work, realistic in so many of its depictions of loneliness, but definitely a work that will haunt us for some time.

As Time Goes By (extended through March 30, 2025)

Out of the Box Theatrics in association with Ice Berg Productions

Theatre 154, 154 Christopher Street, in Manhattan

For tickets, visit http://www.ovationtix.com

Running time: 90 minutes without an intermission