At once deeply moving and unexpectedly funny, the play recounts Sean’s own rocky journey through alcoholism, from denial to collapse, from recovery to relapse, and ultimately toward redemption. It is not a solemn confessional. It is fast, theatrical, and self-aware, exactly what you would expect from someone who has spent his life in rehearsal halls and backstage corridors.

Written as a three-hander, The White Chip moves with the velocity of memory itself. Sean’s character remains at the center, playing a version of himself, while the two other actors embody the many people who orbit his life. The swift transitions in character and perspective mirror addiction’s distortions and recovery’s hard clarity. The laughter comes quickly, sometimes at the very moment you feel least comfortable laughing. Then it pivots, landing somewhere unexpectedly honest.

My connection to Sean stretches back to the pandemic, when theatre was fighting simply to stay alive. At the time, he was leading Arizona Theatre Company through extraordinary uncertainty. I covered his work with deep interest, particularly his determined effort to build what he called an incubator for new plays, a space where artists could continue developing work even while the industry itself felt suspended. Performances were still held inside the theatre, though audiences sat masked and distanced, acutely aware of the fragility of the moment. There was something quietly courageous about gathering at all.

Since then, Sean has moved on to lead the Recovery Arts Project, an initiative dedicated to reshaping the national conversation around addiction and recovery through the power of storytelling. The organization produces new artistic works that broaden recovery narratives, supports artists at every stage of their recovery journey, and partners with media and public health leaders to normalize seeking help. At its core, the work insists that recovery is not a private shame but a story worth telling publicly.

The White Chip made its off-Broadway debut two years ago and earned a New York Times Critic’s Pick. It went on to a celebrated London run at Southwark Playhouse last summer, where I had the good fortune of reviewing Sean’s production of Benjamin Scheuer’s The Lion two years prior. Watching his work resonate across continents confirmed something I had sensed for years. Sean Daniels is not simply staging plays. He is helping to shift the conversation around who gets to tell their story and how.

I didn’t know, during those early pandemic seasons, that our paths would circle back in this way. But I am grateful they have.

It feels right that Studio Connections begins its new chapter with this story. Addiction does not live in isolation. It lives in families, friendships, rehearsal rooms, and board meetings. It lives quietly until it does not. To gather as a community and confront that reality together feels both urgent and hopeful.

This is the kind of theatre Studio Connections exists to make. Theatre that builds empathy. Theatre that opens conversation. Theatre that reminds us that restoration is possible.

The White Chip

Some plays are pure entertainment. Some have something urgent to say. And then others are so personal, they get under your skin and stay there. Sean Daniels’ The White Chip is all of those. $30 General Admission, $25 Student Admission