The emotional and moral tolls of that bargain become clear as the play moves back and forth in time around a central mystery. Mia has woken up in an Istanbul apartment with no recollection of how she got there and with little memory of what happened during her most recent work trip to Syria. The apartment belongs to her Turkish ex-girlfriend, Derya (Dina Soltan), who will soon be hosting Mia’s mother, Jane (Emily Townley). As Mia and Derya grapple with their frayed relationship, and as Jane frets, the enigma of Mia’s amnesia supplies a riptide of momentum.
The knockout cast brings spot-on intensity to the story, while also doing justice to vivid personalities and moments of humor. Whether prowling and crouching, camera in hand, to get just the right shot for a story, or arguing stubbornly from a spot on Derya’s sofa, Kleiger’s Mia has appealing energy and brashness, which the performance intriguingly suggests may be aspects of a protective shell. Townley fusses splendidly as the nurturing Jane and is even better as Marian, a cynical editor for the Associated Press.
Soltan, who deftly channels the stressed-out Derya, also creates indelible portraits of people Mia meets in conflict zones, among them Alissa, the Syrian mother devastated by the death of her 5-year-old son and angry at Mia’s cool professionalism. (Sarah Cubbage’s costumes aptly display the characters’ pragmatic and cultural choices.)
Director Gruenhut keeps the time shifts clear, the pacing brisk and the tone haunting as the action unfurls on Emily Lotz’s semi-surreal set: an apartment with geometric-tiled floor and vintage calligraphic artworks, with a tree branch snaking through a wall. Contributing invaluably to the mood are Mona Kasra’s projections, including hazy cityscapes saturated in primary colors, which suggest images glimpsed in moments of trauma. Matthew M. Nielson’s sound design, too, helps stoke the tension, evoking explosions, gasping breaths and more.
Especially in one beautifully calibrated sequence, Lebanese American playwright Mansour (“The Vagrant Trilogy”) ensures that the story of the relatively privileged Mia doesn’t eclipse those of the photographer’s conflict-beset subjects. Along the way, “Unseen” gracefully turns its lens on stirring themes: human connection and betrayal, cross-cultural friction and understanding, and the cost of seeing suffering — and of looking away from it.
“I know how to take pictures just enticing enough that people who don’t want to look will look,” Mia says. “Unseen” exerts a comparable pull, although we’re only too grateful to look.
Unseen, by Mona Mansour. Directed by Johanna Gruenhut; lighting design, Jesse Belsky; props, Deb Thomas. About 90 minutes. $50-$64. Through April 23 at Atlas Performing Arts Center, 1333 H St. NE. 202-399-7993. mosaictheater.org.