Stage/Theatre

What: shaniqua in abstraction
Where: Crow’s Theatre, 345 Carlaw Ave.
When: Now, until Sun., April 28
Highlight: An ambitious dramatic structure that refuses to tie together in a neat knot
Rating: NNNN (out of 5)
Why you should go: Directed by Sabryn Rock in the Crow’s studio, the show is refreshing for its commitment to ambiguity — and vitalizing as a showcase of bahia watson, first-rate actor that she is.

IF THERE was a Toronto theatre award for best-titled play, it might go to writer-performer bahia watson’s world premiere solo show shaniqua in abstraction, a Crow’s Theatre production in association with paul watson productions and Obsidian Theatre Company. The title perfectly summarizes the energetic, associatively structured play, which explores the many facets of an actor named shaniqua by way of what the synopsis calls “a musing multiverse of narratives.” Directed by Sabryn Rock in the Crow’s studio, the show is refreshing for its commitment to ambiguity — and vitalizing as a showcase of watson, first-rate actor that she is.

At the play’s start, shaniqua is auditioning for an unimpressed casting director. Although the side she’s reading consists of one word — “girl,” — she’s encouraged to keep doing takes, making her overthink her delivery. The situation’s absurdity leaves her meditating on how the world perceives her, and how difficult it is to control one’s image, especially as a Black woman.

Then comes a string of different versions of shaniqua, each with her own body language and relationship to the audience, though all resolutely her. One tells a therapist about her aversion to “fixing plates,” another does a kilometre-a-minute comedy routine laced with references to contemporary culture, another deals with a co-worker’s baseless accusations of intimidation and still another performs in a satirical commercial advertising The Ambiguously Ethnic Starter Pack, which includes cornrows and a year of spray-tanning.

The conceit is not dissimilar to sketch comedy — but not all (or even most) of the scenes aim at laughs. Considering our protagonist is an actor, the play is like the ultimate rejection of typecasting. There’s no summing up or defining this woman; she’s whatever she is in each moment. The show never ties together in a neat knot — it’s always circling, never pouncing. Though potentially frustrating for some, this changeability is, in part, the point: because shaniqua contains such multitudes, it wouldn’t make sense for the play to be easily reducible. It remains as lively and unpredictable as her.

The roving structure (inspired by Afro-surrealism) serves as a sturdy launch pad for watson, who embodies shaniqua’s transformations, going from strutting to sitting, laughing to crying, reflecting to mocking. So much of the show is about performance — the link between how shaniqua conceives of herself and how she behaves — and watson shades those considerations with flitting life through her spirited take on the character. Few Toronto actors are as connected to their impulses as she: universes seem to flicker just behind her eyes, threatening to flood forth. Rock’s production, which uses bold projections (by Laura Warren) to emphasize the script’s changes in tone, is solid and another win for the rising director — but this is the watson show. What a treat it is to go barrelling through the cosmos with her as guide.