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At the rehearsal, between reps of a scene set around the hospital deathbed, he was restless, chewing gum, shifting his weight from side to side, pacing in circles, removing his corduroy jacket, stretching his scarf behind his head as if it were a Thera Band, and making trips to a table on which he had an array of things to put in his mouth: a pack of Trident White, a box of licorice Altoids, a yellow tin of Rescue Pastilles lozenges.

David was playing a character named Norman, but he might as well have been starring in a theatrical adaptation of Curb.

Why can’t he just be wearing the first of his five or six costumes when he arrives?

This was during the arctic blast of early January, and as the car sped past billowing steam pipes and bundled-up, speed-walking New Yorkers, Shapiro checked a weather app on her phone, reporting that “right now, it is 4 degrees,” but “it feels like it’s negative-9.” “See, I don’t buy all ‘what it feels like,’ or this and that,” David said.

So pronounced is David’s comic voice, so singular his mannerisms and cadences, and so pervasive the cultural residue of Seinfeld and Curb, that pretty much anything he says or does seems like the character he’s been cultivating for years, that alternately fretful and oblivious guardian of his own idiosyncratic vision of the social contract.

Jason Alexander, who made a close study of David when he was playing his alter ego, George Costanza, on Seinfeld, found that it was a physical tic of David’s that unlocked the character for him: “What Larry does is when he hears something that stops him in his tracks, he drops his jaw, takes his tongue and rather firmly presses it against the base of his bottom teeth, his head will cock to one side, he’ll do an intermittent nod, and his eyebrows go up each time he nods, as if considering the veracity of what was said to him and a number of potential responses or nonresponses.” David is anxious about Fish in the Dark’s plot being spoiled by early disclosure, but Rudin summarizes the play, which opens for previews next month at the Cort Theatre, as being “about a guy who, with the death of a patriarch they didn’t entirely relate to as a patriarch, leaves all the internal family relationships unmoored, and he’s pinioned between his wife and his mother.” In David’s hands, this means a cascade of metastasizing pettiness during what should theoretically be a period of sober grief.

“Okay,” Shapiro said, “but this is spoken like someone who’s now spent too much time in warm weather.” “You can give me the temperature, and that’s the temperature.

Four degrees is 4 degrees.” “If it’s 4 below, and the wind is not blowing, it’s 4 below,” Shapiro said.

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