First, I need to give a shout-out to the architects who designed the Young Centre for the Performing Arts, which opened in 2008. Apart from making the most of its re-purposed industrial-Victorian architecture, the Baillie Theatre is a phenomenal space. I’ve seen it operate as a proscenium arch, a theatre-in-the-round, a thrust stage. I never know what I’m going to find when I walk in.
Also, props to Soulpepper as a company for a consistently impressive job with its set design. Oleanna had a simple off-kilter and claustrophobic feel in 2011, Parfumerie looked like it took place inside a tasty cream puff last year, and yesterday’s True West was such a perfect suburban kitchen that I could have been in virtually anybody’s house and felt at home. Old-school white fridge with faux wood handles, white oven with clunky dials on the back, floral trim on the wallpaper near the ceiling, decorative plates on the walls, delicate floral detailing on the cupboard doors, Formica table with chrome trim and legs… and how did they scrounge up so many era-specific toasters, anyway?
As for the performance, I enjoyed it. Mike Ross is by turns weak, determined, angry and adorable as screenwriter Austin while Stuart Hughes does well as his brother Lee, a grizzled and conflicted thief who kept on reminding me of Wolverine. Something about the hair.
I like how the level of antagonism between the two brothers didn’t exactly boil over. Sure, they start off talking and wind up fighting, but you get the sense that it was almost inevitable. That tension fueled every word they exchanged, and at almost any time it would have made sense for one of them or the other to throw the first punch. The lingering resentment between siblings is palpable. Mom trusts you more. All dad wants from me is money. I know a story about dad you don’t. Who are you to tell me if I can stay here? It’s mom’s house, not yours. My life is real and important. No, mine is. I want your life. Me too.
There are a couple of highlights in particular. I loved the scene where Austin tries to write the outline for Lee’s terrible-yet-intriguing idea for a Western film. Austin points out how cliché it is (they run out of gas in the middle of a car chase, but it’s ok, because they both have a trailer with a saddled horse ready to go) but Lee won’t be swayed. Hughes’ voice takes on wonderfully haunted quality as he describes the fear both his characters feel: one for not knowing where he’s being led on the chase, and the other for not knowing where he’s going. They’ll chase each other wherever Lee damn well tells them to go, but the point is that they’re scared while they do it.
Ross does a good drunk. He rhapsodizes about the glory of toast (the smell of it means a fresh new day of possibility), gets at the heart of his jealousy for Lee’s survival wits and acumen, calls his brother out for being a failure, and plays wide-eyed earnestness with lovable energy. He makes you believe that this prim and proper academic has a callow, violent drunk like his brother and father just lurking beneath the surface. About 20 seconds before the curtain, there’s a chilling moment where I truly wondered just how far he’d gone, and was willing to go.
Most of all, however, I laughed. And so did the rest of the audience; there was a happy buzz walking out of the theatre. A solid line drive for Soulpepper.
Four out of five toasters.