3600
Written by Molly McQuillan
312 W. 36th St., 4th fl., Manhattan, NYC
July 11-30, 2026
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| Ashley M. Cowles. Photo courtesy of Molly McQuillan. |
Most of us are familiar with the concept, even if it is usually metaphorical, of locking two antagonistic parties in a room together until they settle their differences. With the tautly gripping two-hander
3600, Chicago-born, Brooklyn-based theater artist Molly McQuillan both renders such a situation very literal and gives it the highest stakes possible. The play brings us inside a featureless room where its trapped characters will die when a timer reaches zero. As the clock implacably counts down and the contours of the pair's conflict come into focus, questions of right and wrong, guilt and absolution, and responsibility and consequences become as inescapable as the room itself. Currently part of Chain Theatre's Summer One-Act Festival, running from July 9th through August 1st,
3600 is part of Block 18 in the festival schedule, which also includes Jack Wohl's
Rewind, Play, in which a woman (
Emily Glaser) discovers a video featuring an unknown man (
Justin Andrew Davis) that tests the trust in her relationship with her husband (Samuel Keran); and Francis Bogan's
Syringe, in which a group of friends are forced to navigate a
Saw-inspired kidnapping and its aftermath (read our review
here).
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| Casey Mars Miller. Photo courtesy of Molly McQuillan |
The titular 3600 is the number of seconds in an hour, the amount of time that the production's onstage digital clock begins counting down when the performance starts before fast-forwarding to the 30-minute mark, after which, adding to the tension, the countdown proceeds in real time. It is at this mark that the heretofore unconscious Dean (
Casey Mars Miller) wakes up. The other person in the room, Tana (
Ashley M. Cowles), is already awake since she is the one responsible for both of them being in the room. Dean, whose very name hints at a position of authority, is what one could reasonably call a cult leader, and has been kidnapped by Tana in an attempt at justice or retribution (if there is a difference) for something that happened when Tana was being tested by the sect's faith. Given the details of the situation, it seems safe to say that Dean is unaware that increasing text anxiety does not improve performance, but then, the test is arguably really about loyalty and obedience anyway, much like the story of Abraham and Isaac that Dean later recounts while attempting to secure release from the room.
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| Ashley M. Cowles and Casey Mars Miller. Photo courtesy of Molly McQuillan |
Of course, the Abraham and Isaac story doesn't reflect the cult's actual, rather less forgiving practices. Tana's response during its telling that she would solve things by killing God, however, highlights that she has taken (back) control or agency for herself. If Dean was previously the figurative God, now Tana has seized that position. Her assertion that there is no way out of the room, which Dean calls into question, symbolizes real faith, faith in herself and her decision. Similarly to the disjunction between Dean's invocation of Abraham and Isaac and his actual behavior, the core tenets of the cult–things like honesty, humility, and understanding–sound irreproachable, but the structure around them, as is the case with many belief systems and institutions, is patently unethical. It is telling that Dean offers to pay off Tana, thinking that her actions are motivated by money as opposed to human relationships and care. In this, Dean certainly represents a seemingly ascendent worldview in many arenas of public life in the United States these days, much as do his attempts to gaslighting Tana, which resonate well beyond the specific context of the play's action, from personal to, as we see with our current government, social or national levels. At the same time, ironically, Dean (perhaps again projecting) doesn't believe what Tana says about how the room will work. Notably, like any abuser, when Dean can't prevail through words, attempted physical domination becomes the next option in one of a few potently dark moments that the production foregrounds even as it keeps several details of Dean and Tana's backstory impactfully undefined.
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| Ashley M. Cowles (bottom) and Casey Mars Miller (top). Photo courtesy of Molly McQuillan |
The opposition between Dean and Tana is reflected even in their costuming, with barefoot Tana's tank top and leggings contrasting Dean's layered suit and tie to suggest Tana's figurative stripping down or casting off of excess. Cowles is outstanding as the vengeance-seeking Tana, communicating a great deal with an expression or a shift in body language, not least how Tana's depth of pain manifests in force of will; and Miller renders Dean a formidable foil to Tana, particularly in their transition from feigned reasonableness to undisguised aggression. The chance to witness this faceoff won't last forever, so get to the Chain before your time runs out. The countdown starts…now.
-John R. Ziegler and Leah Richards
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