• Courtesy Of Mark Washburn
• Hana Chamoun and Mattico David in Selling Kabul

Playwright Sylvia Khoury's war story takes place in an apartment. It's a place of hiding, not battle, but the merciless world outside controls everyone within. Selling Kabul is set in Afghanistan in 2021, as U.S. troops leave, abandoning the Afghans they employed. The Taliban have regained control, and anyone who assisted the Americans faces imprisonment or death.

In an exemplary production by Northern Stage, the play shows the deep moral impact of war on four people. Each strives to be good, to be brave; to love and protect. But in an authoritarian state, courage fails in a world of betrayal. To tell a lie is often the only compassionate act possible.

Anchored in the lives of its characters, the play never needs to make political statements. For four months, Taroon, a translator for the Americans, has been hiding in the apartment of his sister and her husband. It's not a simple matter — if he even watches television while the apartment is supposed to be empty, someone might see the screen's flicker behind the curtained windows. And everyone is a potential informer.

Director Evren Odcikin stretches a taut string from the play's opening moment, and each performer maintains the tension. The story elapses in real time. It's the night Taroon's baby is born. His sister, Afiya, and brother-in-law, Jawid, are at the hospital while Taroon waits for news of the pregnant wife he hasn't seen in months and who can't be told of his whereabouts.

When Afiya comes home to tell him it's a healthy baby boy, Taroon wants to leave the apartment in disguise to see the infant who has his hair and eyes. Afiya must stop him. It is far more dangerous than he knows to try to snatch this moment of joy.

Khoury's well-constructed script is a suspenseful journey in which the audience slowly learns how far the Taliban reaches and how terribly compromised everyone in Kabul has become. The action is calm and prosaic. In a realistic set, Afiya makes tea, Taroon tries to reset the Wi-Fi, and Jawid takes off his shoes at the door. These quiet actions include Afiya carefully lifting the corner of a curtain to peer out and Taroon crouching in hiding. That's what's normal now.

It's also normal for Leyla, the next-door neighbor, to drop by when her 5-month-old baby is napping. She's friendly and ready to help, offering to cook and sew. Afiya remains affable, unable to reveal her frustration to this neighbor whom everyone in the apartment must deceive.

They must deceive each other, as well, and Khoury slowly discloses a spiral of lies to devastating effect. The performances are intense and masterful. The actors let us read the characters' deepest intentions while maintaining placid surfaces to hide what burns below.

Hana Chamoun, as Afiya, uses silence to show a character exhausted with worry, trying to keep her brother safe by sending him away forever. Chamoun establishes the character's moral authority by expressing the terrible weight of it. Mattico David, as Jawid, has the somber certainty of a man backed into a corner, constantly calculating whether sacrifice or self-interest should prevail. Fear cannot quite close his open heart.

Nima Rakhshanifar plays Taroon as impetuous and naïve, facing an impossible choice to stay or flee. Restless and stuck in a small space, Taroon is a man with a child's impulses and an adult's need to prove his courage. Playing Leyla, Fatima Maymoon smiles her way onto Afiya's couch and sweetly will not budge. Leyla has her own secrets and is skilled at guarding them.

Odcikin sets a slow pace, suited to the story's solemnity and quiet suspense. Khoury scatters in notes of humor, and the actors let these pinpricks of comedy shine in the darkness of the story. But the rhythm and intensity never change, and the audience, too, must sustain the mood of dread.

Thursday's preview audience stayed gripped, proof that the production succeeded in holding that one fierce note from start to finish. The real-time nature of the story makes an intermission impossible, and the thriller of a plot demands total attention.

The realistic set, designed by Sasha Schwartz, contrasts a bland modern kitchen and sofa with the bright colors and strong textures of floor cushions and rugs. Lighting designer Maria Shaplin uses simple effects in the apartment and sketches the threatening play of headlights outside.

Costume designer Dina El-Aziz expresses notes of westernization in the clothing. Taroon wears a logo T-shirt and slick training pants, while Jawid dresses in a traditional tunic shirt, vest and loose trousers, all in gray. Afiya and Leyla get some color and pattern in contrast to their requisite headscarves. Composer and sound designer Avi Amon creates the world outside the apartment with sound, from a baby crying down the hall to traffic on the street.

Sound is essential to the production's storytelling. The audience experiences the quiet of pauses as the characters think, the soft hush of fans that Afiya runs to mask the family's voices and idle sounds outside, any of which could signal danger. Near the end of the play, Afiya is alone onstage and turns off the two fans. Suddenly the theater is fully quiet, the silence completed by a spellbound audience.

Selling Kabul is a self-contained theater experience, but it draws the audience to reflect outward: Who else is in hiding tonight? Where else do those in power require citizens to betray each other or be betrayed? These thoughts can arise precisely because the play is about particular people, not the abstractions of politics. We see the specific scars that power inflicts. We also see the tension of maintaining the hope of survival. That ray of hope burns to the end.