Over the course of its 150-minute run time, Jonathan Spector’s This Much I Know rattles off a seemingly endless array of aphorisms that could have been ripped from your favorite armchair psychologist’s podcast: “We decide to do something, then we make up the reason.” “The less you know, the more certain you are.” “That’s why fake ideas are so dangerous—because they’re ‘sticky.’” Building a drama around such didactic dicta could be a deadly endeavor. But in a stunning feat, Spector contextualizes these and similar truisms in a jolting examination of the depths of belief, achieving a result that is both deeply funny and refreshingly thought-provoking.

This Much I Know, playing through February 25 at Theater J in its East Coast premiere, is a sterling example of what critics once called the “concept” show. Revolutionized by producer-director Harold Prince alongside creatives including Stephen Sondheim, “concept” shows are perhaps most easily understood as building a loose plot around a central theme or message. (Company, for instance, is “about” marital commitment, or the fear thereof.) Spector’s concept is, essentially, the inheritance, creation, and abandonment of beliefs, and the internalized psychological fallacies that mold our ways of thinking.

In choosing to make his central character, Lukesh (Firdous Bamji), a psychology professor at a large liberal arts college in the states, Spector does nothing to stand in the way of his mission. Lukesh’s wife, Natalya (Dani Stoller), is a writer struggling with the long-term emotional effects of trauma. Preparing for a new writing project, she suddenly flees to Russia, where she is determined to learn more about her family’s history under the Stalinist regime. As their relationship becomes increasingly strained, Lukesh is tasked with serving as an academic adviser to Harold (Ethan J. Miller), the son of a prominent White nationalist whose parental ties and past online advocacy have become public in a New Yorker exposé. 

Spector makes great demands on the three performers, who play a number of recurring characters outside their primary roles. Fortunately, the excellent trio offers a showcase in versatility, moving quickly between distinct characters that range from Svetlana Alliluyeva (Joseph Stalin’s daughter) to an easily bribed Russian archivist. As Lukesh, Bamji is exceedingly charming, explaining psychological phenomena that defy logic, but nevertheless feel awfully familiar to attentive viewers (as the many chuckles and nodding heads in the audiences will attest). Stoller is exceptional, particularly when playing Alliluyeva and underscoring Spector’s questions of culpability versus responsibility in inherited belief systems. And Miller stands out in each of his roles, but especially as Harold. The actor is so obviously attuned to the irony and humor of the character’s actions in relation to his unsavory beliefs, but never signals that he’s in on the joke. The earnestness of his ignorance is simply terrific.

Director Hayley Finn, who also serves as artistic director for Theater J, makes smart use of the Aaron & Cecile Goldman Theater’s narrow stage. Rather than going long, she goes deep, engaging scenic designer Misha Kachman to create several distinct playing areas with the incorporation of a movable platform and sliding walls. Green chalkboard panels are offset by wood wainscoting and serve as a blank canvas for simple but often funny projections by Mona Kasra. Lighting designer Colin K. Bills incorporates bright, fluorescent washes in moments where Lukesh is lecturing, offering science-backed insight into the causes of our convictions and the illogical tricks to which we fall victim. He backs off of the brightness in moments of ambiguity, signaling the divide between clear thinking and emotional response. Costume designer Danielle Preston pragmatically uses layering and accessories to distinguish between characters and to facilitate necessary quick changes. 

But the depth of Finn’s direction can be found beyond the evident staging and accompanying technical elements. In a play that is so forthcoming about its message, she introduces subtle metaphors that may go unnoticed, but nonetheless add to the viewing experience. For instance, while the playwright draws parallels between the absolutism and censorship that are core components of both Stalinist Russia and White nationalism, Finn has Bamji, who provides the voice for the respective leaders of each movement, speak into the same microphone and read from the same script. 

Of course, one could easily say that This Much I Know is the “right kind of play for our time.” After all, the currents of mis- and disinformation are no less palpable now than they were four years ago, when Finn first discovered the play in development, during the lead-up to the last presidential election. Approximately one-third of Americans still think President Joe Biden won the election because of widespread voter fraud, despite a dearth of evidence to the contrary. And when it comes to getting their news, half of Americans turn to the very social media platforms that have been breeding grounds for conspiracy theories and political discord. 

But to dismiss the play as such is to ignore the humanity in it. At one point, Lukesh describes the marvels of a time machine, first displaying a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang-like contraption, then a Delorean, and, eventually, the human brain, which he indicates is the best tool for time travel we have. Even Lukesh, for all his education and understanding of the human brain, cannot square his own dissonant logic and emotions by the end of the play. It’s not that Spector is saying we’re hopeless—just that old habits are hard to break (and human predisposition to senselessness certainly doesn’t help).

As playfully prodding and enjoyable as Spector’s play is, by back-burnering plot in favor of message, This Much I Know is likely to rob itself of the staying power it may have achieved otherwise. Of course, Spector questions our thought processes and belief systems in a compelling way, but ultimately, these questions are not new. And I suspect the story is not “sticky” enough to facilitate this play having the kind of life that one of its gravity should. Then again, This Much I Know asserts that preconceived notions can be, and often are, wrong. In this instance, I certainly hope so.

This Much I Know, written by Jonathan Spector and directed by Hayley Finn, runs through Feb. 25 at Theater J. theaterj.org. $69.99–$90.99.