Arts & Culture

What: People, Places and Things
Where: The Coal Mine Theatre, 2076 Danforth Ave.
When: Now, until Sun., March 9
Highlight: Frantic movement sequences depicting the extremes of intoxication and detoxification
Rating: NNN (out of 5)
Why you should go: Macmillan’s sharp script brought to life by a strong local cast

CAPTIVATING AS IT may be, I can’t shake the feeling that Duncan Macmillan’s People, Places and Things isn’t really as clever as it thinks it is. And Diana Bentley’s Canadian premiere production at Coal Mine Theatre, though far from being without substance, seems more invested in prioritizing style. Nearly everything about it is impressive, but little manages to feel overly resonant.

Louise Lambert plays a woman — to whom I’ll refer as “Nina,” for the sake of spoiling as little as possible (you’ll understand why after seeing it) — who checks herself into a rehabilitation facility when her substance abuse begins to get out of control and interferes with her work as a respected stage actress. What follows is a fairly conventional recovery drama, complete with initial resistance to the healing process, forged bonds with other patients and breakthrough-seeking therapy sessions. You know the drill.

Maybe that sounds a little dismissive, so let’s try focusing on the intriguing ways that it pushes against the mould if never quite breaking it.

First and foremost, Macmillan is a superb writer, whose script is full of twists and turns that force spectators to lean in with rapt attention. Even if the familiar beats are present and accounted for, he lays them out in novel ways that resist easy narratives of linear progress and goal-oriented closure.

Second, this production cultivates an impressive visual language for externalizing the inner turmoil of addiction. Alyssa Martin’s stunning movement direction is flawlessly executed by members of the ensemble (Nickeshia Garrick, Sam Grist, Sarah Murphy-Dyson, Kwaku Okyere and Kaleb Tekeste). Doused in flickering lights (co-designed by Bonnie Beecher and Jeff Pybus) and trippy sounds (by Thomas Ryder Payne), these sequences frantically capture disorienting states of intoxication and the overwhelming discomfort of detoxification. Their most evocative images operate on a level of abstraction that calls to mind the climax of the 2018 sci-fi film Annihilation.

This is the kind of play that lives or dies by the strength of the lead, so I regret to inform that Lambert’s central performance left me with decidedly mixed feelings. I won’t deny that she’s a compelling presence, and the stamina it must take to go through this nightly emotional wringer for the entire (intermission inclusive) 2 hours and 20 minutes is obviously commendable. That said, I found her to be, on the whole, too emotionally guarded, thus lacking the raw vulnerability that the role demands. Many of her line deliveries felt too quick on the draw, making her consistently appear too in control of herself, even when she’s supposed to be spiralling. I would be lying if I said her interpretation of the role didn’t suffer in comparison to Denise Gough’s Olivier-winning rendition in the play’s U.K. premiere. Though that may strike some as an unfair comparison to draw, it’s one that I invite subscribers of NTatHome to make for themselves.

Fortunately, Lambert is well assisted by capable supporting players who nurture strong familial dynamics as the facility’s charismatic employees and occupants. Reliable veterans Fiona Reid and Oliver Dennis take on surrogate parental roles as elder doctors and a patient, respectively. Farhang Ghajar offers a charmingly fraternal aura as another patient while Matthew Gouveia’s compassionately hard-edged intake nurse feels akin to a fun uncle.

This is a show that’s very much about theatre, with Nina’s acting career leading her to make numerous references to staples from the dramatic canon. Many of these allusions coincidentally nod toward plays that Toronto’s theatregoing public will have fresh in their minds — i.e., there’s an extended sequence from The Seagull (for which Soulpepper’s 2023 production likewise featured Ghajar and Dennis), a famous quote from A Streetcar Named Desire (also recently at Soulpepper, hello again Mr. Dennis), and a cheeky riff on Hedda Gabler (which was on this very stage last season, starring Bentley in the title role). These citations to our local theatre scene’s recent memory can’t help kindling a sense of in-group pattern recognition, not unlike Captain America being pleased with himself for having “understood that reference.”

However, as much as this should be catnip for seasoned theatre enthusiasts (to say nothing of critics), I remain a little perplexed about the play’s actual stance on theatre. It is repeatedly stated in no uncertain terms that Nina’s vocation makes her an adept liar, casting an ugly shadow of antitheatrical prejudice over her journey to let go of artifice and live authentically as her ostensibly truer self. But, at the same time, roleplaying exercises are used in the play’s lengthy group therapy scenes, helping the patients rehearse tough conversations they’ll have with loved ones after rejoining society post-recovery. So, which is it? Is theatrical roleplaying the quintessence of deception, or is it the safe space wherein addicts can work through their issues? I’m not too sure if Macmillan has good answers to these questions, though I’ll applaud Bentley and her team for living comfortably within that tension.