Stage/Theatre

What: Here Lies Henry
Where: Factory Theatre, Mainspace, 125 Bathurst St.
When: Now, until Sun., Dec. 17
Highlight: A fully realized physical vocabulary that electrifies emotions.
Rating: NNNN (out of 5)
Why you should go: A whirlwind of lies, cheeky existentialism and the occasional cigarette.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO if you were unexpectedly pushed in front of an audience of about 100 people and were told to tell them something they don’t already know? It’s a first-day-of-school-only-wearing-underwear type of nightmare scenario. Here Lies Henry by Daniel MacIvor, follows Henry, of course, in this exact scenario. For 80 minutes, you must untangle this self-declared liar’s web of lies, truths, hopes, fears and everything in between. The first moments of the show are heart-stopping, presenting a dazzling strip of glowing white light that stretches from the floor to the roof as Henry bursts through it and lands in the middle of the stage confined by light to a claustrophobia-inducing box on the stage (thanks to lighting, set and prop designer Andre Du Toit).

As with any solo show, it is a feat for the actor, especially for this emotionally whiplash-y spiel, but seasoned actor Damien Atkins rises to the challenge. Yes, perhaps at the beginning you don’t have full faith in Atkins yet as he portrays a trepidatious, trembling Henry — it is very purposefully as painful as watching a comedian bomb on stage. But as Henry gains confidence, Atkins glimmers. He has control over the audience as he yanks himself from the verge of tears to sexily crawling towards an audience member. He’s mastered the art of tongue-in-cheek and has a seemingly endless amount of breath for MacIvor’s speedy riddle-like speeches, though occasionally tripping over a word or two.

This piece is highly physicalized as Henry performs to the best of his ability to impress us: movements are codified and appetizing to the eye. Director Tawiah M’Carthy does a stand-up job of incorporating these gesticulations to not only razzle-dazzle but to further give the audience clues into the hard shell that is Henry. Director and actor alike create a fully realized physical vocabulary that electrifies emotions.

Unlike the tech-heavy Monster playing just below the Factory Mainspace, Here Lies Henry opts for a barebone sound design by Olivia Wheeler, letting Atkins do the heavy lifting in terms of tone. The absence of sound in the more grounded moments does wonders. During certain transitions, sound cues in beautifully, such as when Henry demands music and dances, rather awkwardly yet spunkily, to techno beats or in the moments with the giant beaming rectangle, dark pensive chords cue in.

This performance is audience interaction galore as Henry’s playing area on stage gets bigger and the square of light from the beginning expands. Henry asks for a volunteer to demonstrate a joke, compliments audience fashion choices and climbs into the audience in search of a cigarette … and lighter. This cigarette he then takes on stage and smokes, after explicitly promising not to. This moment creates a grim visual as he chats coyly about death. It’s a visceral moment; you can smell the smoke in the theatre.

Here Lies Henry is delightfully cheeky, but its richness lies in its empathetic approach to big introspective questions it leaves with its audience. Henry, like much of humanity, uses stories and performativity to mask the faults and insecurities in his own life. He captivates the audience, but it seems the more he tries to push it off, the harder his actions and lies catch up with him. You can’t run in riddle-encoded circles forever, no matter how much you desire to.