Last week, only days before “House of McQueen” was set to open off-Broadway, one of the most iconic fashion designers of the last century, Giorgio Armani, died at 91. The subject of “House,” Alexander McQueen, did not live half as long, but it could be argued that he packed even more color, literally and figuratively, into his short time on earth.

As this new play by Darrah Cloud reminds us, McQueen tended to favor darker shades, in life and in art — and this preference wasn’t rooted in the elegance and simplicity that made black prominent in Armani’s work. To the contrary, McQueen, who committed suicide in 2010 at the age of 40, drew inspiration from violence and despair in delivering collections that, as a reporter character who pops up at regular intervals in “House” puts it, were influenced by “subjects as unpalatable as rape, car crashes, and famine.”

Or as Lee — McQueen’s given first name — explains in the play, “I want to make clothes for people I care about. People who’ve been wounded. Who’ve been abused and survived.”

In director Sam Helfrich’s appropriately bracing, stylish production, Lee Alexander McQueen is brought back to life by Luke Newton, an English actor best known for playing a scion of a noble family on “Bridgerton,” the popular Netflix series. For his new role, Mr. Newton has shorn his hair down to a buzz cut and traded his screen character’s plummy enunciation for a cockney-like accent that emphasizes McQueen’s humble roots.

More crucially, the leading man brings emotional grit and empathy to the part of Lee, as Ms. Cloud — drawing on a book by the show’s executive producer, Rick Lasez, and Seth Koch — briskly traces his journey from London’s East End, where he grew up the son of a cab driver, to Savile Row, where he apprenticed as a tailor before enrolling at the prestigious Central St. Martins School of Design. 

From there, McQueen rose to the position of chief designer at Givenchy before founding his own label, then selling 51 percent of that to the Gucci Group. “House” explores the tension that developed between these high-end corporate affiliations and the designer’s penchant for controversial, anti-establishment statements, not to mention the psychological demons and substance abuse that informed both his bad-boy image and his enduring sense of connection to the struggles of the less fortunate.

Mr. Helfrich and his collaborators — among them Gary James McQueen, the designer’s nephew, who is credited as creative director — ensure that the journey is as dazzling and as chilling as its subject no doubt would have wanted it to be. In scenes depicting McQueen’s childhood, Brad Peterson’s video and projection design suggests how a very young Lee (alternately played by Cody Braverman and Matthew Eby) was driven by a fascination with history as well as personal trauma.

Throughout the play, figures from Lee’s past continue to haunt and comfort him; falling squarely into the latter camp is his beloved mother, Joyce McQueen, portrayed here with a gentle, glowing warmth by Emily Skinner, a veteran of Broadway musicals. In recurring segments that soften the production’s deliberately slick edges, Joyce is seen interviewing her son, as she did in real life; when his mum asks him to identify his “most terrifying fear,” Lee responds, “You dying before me.” (McQueen in fact ended his life shortly after Joyce died.)

Catherine LeFrere cuts a sharper, more flamboyant figure as another influential woman in McQueen’s life: Isabella Blow, an editor and stylist who shared his flair for drama and his battle with depression; she too killed herself, a few years before he did. As Mses. Cloud and LeFrere depict her, Isabella is desperately, sometimes comically needy, identifying Lee as a fellow spirit and demanding he look after her even as his own life spirals out of control.

Ms. LeFrere gets to model a few of the eye-catching costumes designed by Kaye Voyce to accompany clips from McQueen’s shows. There’s nothing too garish or unsettling here, and Lee admits at one point, “All I want to do is fix ugliness.” Whether you’re a slave to fashion or, like me, a confirmed non-expert, you’ll likely find “House of McQueen” an intriguing and entertaining character study.