Eno has therefore cut away much of the play's core to turn the central character into the American Peter Gnit. He's done some sly fusions, like giving all the crowd scenes to a single character called The Town (an impressive David Shih), who has long bickering conversations with himself. But Eno's cuts also go deep. Gone are Ibsen's rhyming couplets, the emphasis on salvation, any mention of Hell or divine punishment. Gone too is the smushy ending. Both Peer Gynt and Gnit critique individualism; in both plays, any guy who says "I'm on a journey to discover … the authentic self" is a selfish creep. Yet Eno does his critique without resorting to faith-based arguments. His Gnit is a Passion Play without God, an atheist's Pilgrim's Progress. More than the actors' deliberately deadpan delivery or Eno's wrong-foot humor, this explains the show's weird, flat affect. The original Peer is a man playing tug-of-war with redemption. In this version, nothing's holding the other end of the rope. Joe Curnutte plays Peter, a blonde, blithe, self-involved guy who is catnip to women. His mother (the superb Deborah Hedwall) knows him for a liar but loves him anyway; his beloved Solvay (Jasmine Batchelor) meets him minutes before he abducts a bride from her wedding, and then she loses him after another woman shows up with a baby he's fathered. Both of these rival ladies are played by a sublimely comic Christy Escobar, and many of the goofiest jokes in the play stem from the way the six-person company plays a cast of dozens, hurling themselves in and out of Ásta Bennie Hostetter and Avery Reed's costumes. Jordan Bellow crosses through, holding a bottle of milk, then crosses the other way a second later, as a totally different character. "Who was that, do you know?" asks Peter. "The handsome guy with the milk?" Bellow responds. After a while, all this casting trickery seems as though we're seeing with Peter's own uncareful eye, which perceives everyone who isn't him as less than real. (It's also a good excuse for people to do accents.) Gnit is an odd night at the theater, full of suspended understanding and puzzled laughter. Eno writes droll, sorrowful jokes that land late enough that your mind doesn't have time to be amused or upset. These not-jokes often take the form of people saying something serious and the listener simply not caring.