Nearly two years ago, theatergoers began flocking to Broadway to see “Hamilton,” a transfer from the smaller Public Theater downtown. “Hamilton” is a happy tale: A West Indies immigrant makes good in America, and helps his new country thrive.

This spring, theatergoers can take in another Public transfer on Broadway. This one’s not a happy story.

“Sweat” is about a factory town at the beginning of the 21st century. But it’s far more relevant for New Yorkers than residents here might think. And they should see it so as to have more empathy for people who voted for President Trump.

Playwright Lynn Nottage’s setting may be as far away to many New Yorkers as Hamilton’s 18th century. It’s the year 2000, and factory workers in Reading, Pa., are nursing their millennial New Year’s hangovers. The economy is humming along nicely, and few people are interested in the presidential election.

But there are bad signs: One factory locked out its manufacturing workers 93 weeks ago. Another factory, where the three middle-aged women at the center of the story work, is looking to cut costs.

One worker puzzles over what NAFTA is. A friend tells her that it means that owners can cart their shop floor down to Mexico, piece by piece, where laborers will work for a fraction of the wage.

Another character tells others the ominous rumors he’s heard about automation. He notes that their bosses think they can run the huge place with “five and a half people” at the push of a button.

Other than that, Sweat doesn’t really get into economics. Instead, it’s what happens to real people who see their lives upended. (It’s clear from the first scene that things won’t unfold well.)

Can a factory worker stay friends with the recently promoted manager who helps kill her job? (Probably not.)

As the bad news comes, people don’t take it in a bloodlessly rational manner, as Democrats and Republicans from the pre-Trump era might have expected. Nobody wants to re-train as a nurse. People already grappling with the regrets of aging are angry that nobody important considers them to be worth much.

People with no jobs drink more and lash out at each other. A man embarrassed to depend on his wife for money turns to drugs.

Several people resent the colleague who tries to make the best of a bad situation by planning to go to college, chastising him as thinking he’s better than they are. Older characters can’t decide if they want their kids to suffer like they do, or to leave, becoming the kind of people they can’t relate to.

The characters aren’t virtuous martyrs. They’re given a bad hand — and make bad decisions with it.

“Sweat” is good at showing how racial tensions that may exist in the background during good times come to the surface when things go south. The son of an Hispanic immigrant is tolerated when he does the work that Americans don’t want to do. When he expresses interest in a non-union job at a factory fighting with the union, he becomes a threat.

Black people and white people can be collegial when both are making money. When neither of them is, both sides see racial favoritism and prejudice.

Indeed, on the race issue, theater can do what panel discussions cannot. Many New Yorkers still dismiss Trump voters as unabashed racists. What they don’t see is the desperation. If you’re drowning, you may not wonder whether the person who says he’s going to rescue you is a racist.

“Sweat” ends in 2008, with President George W. Bush begging Congress to bail out Wall Street. (The play wisely skips over 9/11; Broadway shows that treat the attacks have a history of failure.)

Nottage finished writing the play before the 2016 election. In fact, it premiered in Oregon a month after Trump announced his candidacy in 2015. When one character talks politics, he does so only to forswear voting — a premonition of the 2016 election, when disaffected voters came back.

“Sweat” may not get the audience that “Hamilton” does. It’s not a musical. And few plays tackle economic topics, although some of the best, like “Death of a Salesman,” do. But a tech worker or his teenage kid may get more out of seeing this production than the usual fare.

Nicole Gelinas is a contributing editor to the Manhattan Institute’s City Journal.