The train is only as strong as its weakest link — and in Flex, every player on and offstage pulls with heart, grit, wit, and charm.
A co-production between Crow’s Theatre and Obsidian Theatre, Flex is written by Candrice Jones and directed by Mumbi Tindyebwa Otu. Described by Jones as “a love letter for and to women of the American South,” the Canadian premiere follows the spirited members of the Lady Train — a high school basketball team in 1997 rural Arkansas — as they chase their dreams of going pro in the newly formed WNBA.
The play opens on a makeshift basketball court etched into the dirt, where team captain Starra Jones (Shauna Thompson) runs her teammates through a grueling drill. When the players plead for water, Starra refuses — not out of cruelty, but conviction, warning that it attracts mosquitoes. The moment roots us in the team’s tough rural environment and introduces Starra’s belief in building mental strength through adversity.
Tensions rise when Sidney Brown (Jasmine Case), a confident transplant from California, saunters in and offers bottled water to the parched team. The gesture heightens a pre-existing clash between her and Starra, establishing a rivalry that hints at deeper themes of class, privilege, and identity — ideas the play continues to unpack as it unfolds.
Ken Mackenzie and Sharine Taylor enrich the basketball court setting with minimalist yet striking set design choices. Lighting designer Raha Javanfar outlines the court in clean white neon lines that glow and shift with each scene change and emotional beat. Certain lines illuminate in isolation to suggest new locations — for instance, a glowing blue circle evokes a lake, while a rectangular frame hints at the interior of a car.
Javanfar’s lighting, Thomas Ryder Payne and Riel Reddick-Stevens’ sound design, and Mackenzie and Taylor’s set work tightly together to build an atmosphere alive with memory and sensation. Payne and Reddick-Stevens fill the soundscape with swishes, clangs of missed shots, the subtle chirp of birds, and the swell of crowds. Jones’ script, Otu’s direction, and the design team’s detailed choices ground each scene in specificity, working in harmony to create a vivid, emotionally resonant world.
The carefully curated soundtrack — including SMV playing during a tender romantic moment and Aaliyah blasting on the speakers during a car ride — effectively evokes the late ’90s setting. And dialect coach Peter N. Bailey helps ensure the cast’s Southern accents feel lived-in rather than performative.
As a basketball fan, I found the high level of attention to detail especially satisfying. Jones weaves technical jargon and strategic play into the script with care. The production honours the intricacies of the sport while keeping the storytelling accessible and compelling. Former professional player Alex Johnson, credited as the cast’s trainer, worked with the cast to build their basketball, making the action sequences dynamic and credible, with Case — listed in the program as basketball captain — helping maintain their precision throughout the run.
Each player on the team is a distinct, fully realized character. In particular, Trinity Lloyd brings sharp comedic timing and sincerity to the role of Cherise Howard, the team’s devoutly religious player. Her exaggerated piety occasionally flirts with the (slight spoiler alert) closeted Christian stereotype, but Lloyd’s layered delivery makes her portrayal both entertaining and endearing.
Moments of vulnerability and camaraderie shine throughout the production, offering levity amid the play’s heavier themes. The characters stand on the cusp of womanhood, navigating friendships, faith, and love — all while carrying the weight of complex, often inherited burdens. Jewell Bowry delivers a resonant performance as April Jenkins. When April is benched due to Coach Francine Pace (Sophia Walker)’s rule barring pregnant girls from playing — framed as a protective measure — her teammates respond with defiant solidarity. During one practice, they stage “pregnancy plays,” donning home economics class bellies to support her. As the story unfolds, April’s experience reveals deeper wounds rooted in generational pain, handled with a measured sensitivity.
Walker brings a quiet power to her role as Pace. Her presence is instantly commanding, urging her team to take pride in where they come from, and reminding them to honour “the dirt and dust that makes us.” It’s a line that encapsulates the characters’ reverence for resilience, heritage, and solidarity.
While the first half of Flex is gripping, the second act loses some momentum. With numerous themes and character arcs introduced, the narrative begins to feel stretched, and certain storylines are left underexplored. A more focused script could have sharpened the emotional payoff and brought the play’s strongest ideas into clearer view.
Basketball serves as a language, a dream, and a proving ground — but the show’s success reaches far beyond the court. With a powerful ensemble and an artistic team working in full coordination, Flex hits hard and lingers long after the final buzzer.
Flex runs at the Guloien Theatre until May 18. Tickets are available here.
Intermission reviews are independent and unrelated to Intermission’s partnered content. Learn more about Intermission’s partnership model here.
WRITTEN BY
Krystal Abrigo
Krystal is Intermission’s Publishing and Editorial Assistant. A Scarborough-based writer of Philippine and Egyptian descent, she graduated cum laude with an Honours BA in Professional Writing from York University, specializing in Book Publishing and Corporate/Organizational Communication. She enjoys reading bell hooks, Audre Lorde, and James Baldwin. At any given moment, you can probably find her at a concert or on a long walk somewhere in Toronto.
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