The Pitch

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By Jack Quinn, Publisher

The show begins in a grubby sales office in Torrance, California, circa 2006, where the testosterone is thick and the fax machine is still a status symbol. Joey Russo’s performance as “Skunk” anchors the first act with raw, manic energy.

He’s equal parts predator and clown, pounding his chest and crowing “We don’t use that word around here” when a new recruit naively calls them “brokers.” His swagger fills the room, yet Russo never lets the character lose credibility—his bravado feels earned, or at least habitually rehearsed. Opposite him, Kevin Bartini’s “Scramby” is the perfect foil, a walking sales cliché with the rapid-fire timing of a stand-up comic. Every time he shouts “Ring the bell!,” the audience jolts as if the office itself has a pulse.

Josh Iacovelli’s set captures the stale intimacy of these workspaces: mismatched desks, coffee cups, and an ominous whiteboard tracking the month’s sales figures. Under Keller’s tight direction, the rhythm of the office scenes feels authentic. The actors talk over one another, phones cut in mid-sentence, and the fluorescent lights flicker like a failing conscience. It’s funny, anxious, and instantly recognizable to anyone who’s ever worked for a commission.

But when the lights rise on Act Two, The Pitch loses its edge. Alper, who also plays “Tom Allen,” has transformed overnight from a tentative trainee to a slick, ethically challenged salesman. After one training pep talk about the “Say it/Ask it” technique, he suddenly becomes a smooth operator, charming a female client with promises like he’ll fly her to L.A. and show her the town. That subplot vanishes without explanation, and so does the character’s credibility. Alper’s acting remains steady, but the writing gives him no emotional bridge between uncertainty and corruption. It’s as if he skipped the middle chapter of his own redemption arc.

When Alper’s character leaves the office, the play’s tone splinters. In one lengthy domestic sequence, Tom spars gently with his teenage daughter Michelle, played with sincerity by Sammi O’Connor. “Dad, do you have any idea how hard it is to cheer?” she asks, trying to share her world of pom-poms and practice. It’s a tender moment, but dramatically it feels like another play. The dialogue is earnest yet expository, slowing the momentum that Keller has worked so hard to build.

The next detour arrives in an IRS interrogation scene so jarringly stylized it borders on surreal. Phil Hendrie, as the agent Mel Dursang, gives a darkly funny, menacing performance, relishing lines like “I’m the ‘I.R. Fucking S!’ We do whatever the fuck we want around here.” It’s a show-stopping monologue, and Hendrie’s voice work is mesmerizing, but it lands like a thunderclap from another play. The stakes become abstract, and the rhythm of the office drama disappears. By the time the lights return to the bullpen, the tension must start from scratch.

Back where the play belongs, the ensemble reconnects. Mario Corry’s “Ricky Ray” delivers the right mix of sleaze and humor, playing a washed-up charmer who’s seen too many commissions come and go. Connor Killeen’s “Kid” brings a touch of conscience to the chaos, and Joe Lorenzo, as the boss “Mike Moretti,” presides with understated menace—one eyebrow raised, a drink in hand, every gesture suggesting quiet authority. Together, they re-ignite the play’s original spark. The language crackles again, and Keller’s direction restores the sense of claustrophobic momentum that makes the first act so watchable.

Technically, the production is impressive. Iacovelli’s lighting shifts subtly from fluorescent glare to warm domestic pools, helping to define the play’s multiple worlds, while Ross Wallace Chait’s sound design captures the hum and static of office life with precision. Nilton Emilio stagemanages the moving parts with polish, and Keller’s hand as director remains assured even when the material falters. The problem lies not with the production but with the script’s sprawl: it’s three plays fighting for stage time—a gritty workplace piece, a sentimental family drama, and a bureaucratic farce.

Still, there’s no denying that when The Pitch stays in the office, it’s alive—taut, funny, and honest. Alper clearly knows this world; he writes its jargon and swagger with precision. But each time the play strays from the phones and the whiteboard, it forgets its own best pitch. As a showcase for a terrific ensemble and Keller’s crisp direction, it’s worth the listen. Yet, like a salesman who can’t stop talking after he’s closed the deal, The Pitch doesn’t know when to hang up. When it stays on the phone, it’s riveting; when it hangs up, we’re stuck on hold.

Production Credits:

The Pitch, written by Tom Alper. Directed by Mike Keller. Lighting and Set Design by Josh Iacovelli. Sound Design by Ross Wallace Chait. Stage Management by Nilton Emilio. Executive Producer Christine Blackburn for Story Worthy Media. Featuring Tom Alper, Joey Russo, Mario Corry, Kevin Bartini, Connor Killeen, Phil Hendrie, Sammi O’Connor, and Joe Lorenzo.

The Pitch (through November 17, 2025)

Story Worthy Media

Actors Temple Theatre, 339 West 47th Street, in Manhattan

For tickets, visit https://www.telecharge.com/The-Pitch-Tickets

Running time: two hour and 15 minutes including one intermission