The Toronto Theatre Review: Coal Mine’s People, Places and Things
By Ross
“I am a seagull,” she cries, determined to get through the scene, but alas, “no, that’s not right“. Yet, on the other hand, at The Coal Mine Theatre in Toronto, Louise Lambert (Coal Mine’s Detroit; Yerma) is getting it all perfectly right and chaotically concise in the phenomenal Canadian production of People, Places & Things. It’s a whirlwind, hyperactive performance, taking over the immersive stage, designed impeccably by Steve Lucas (Coal Mine’s Appropriate) with a vibrant, intoxicating yet wisely constructed force. Lambert’s character, the actress, going by the name of Emma, can’t quite get her lines out as written as she takes the stage as Nina in the first few minutes of Duncan Macmillan’s (1984) thrilling and jolting play about addiction, first staged at the National Theatre‘s Dorfman Theatre in London in 2015. And once the four walls come crashing down, all the Ninas and Emmas come out to play with a brutal and aggressive dynamic engagement.
During the wild ride that is Act One, this modern-day story of addiction and denial rises itself far above the average 28-day story of rehab and redemption. In many ways, the story feels typical while being staged absolutely atypically and brilliantly by director Diana Bentley (Coal Mine’s Yerma), who unpacks ferocious flavors in abundance. The standard idea of a rehab story usually revolves around an addict coming to terms with the addiction that most definitely resides inside her. But in no way is this production standard. It flies high and erratically wild, clashing and writhing above any expectations that could have existed going in, and then slams itself far beyond even that, hypnotically.
Even when we don’t consciously realize it, every word and moment has intense meaning in Emma’s life and a great importance in the overall arc of this fascinating tale. During that desperate last-ditch phone call made in the rehab’s admitting room, we first think that the conversation is just a comic but authentic scenario draped in dark humor and blunt intensity without much future weight. But we couldn’t be further from the truth. All things come back, like a nasty flashback determined to haunt the user over and over again, heightening the frame and the formula beyond anything predictable or obvious.
Lambert’s performance is utterly frantic, shakey, brilliant, intense, and frightening, wrapped in pain, fear, and supreme defensive arrogance. It’s a masterful performance, expanding our experience of her and her addiction with layers and conflicts that are sometimes difficult to take in. Her character is trouble, to all those around her, while also being clearly in deep trouble herself. Plain and simple, she sucker punches us at every moment, with her story, her name, her persona, and her desire to overcome. Yet, somehow, thanks to the strong skills of playwright Macmillian, she also manages to pull us inside her terrified soul. We want to fight for her and against her for her own survival. We want to grab hold of her and slap some sense into her, breathe life into her, hug her, and hold her desperately tight until she accepts our love and her pain. Her body is engulfed by her addiction, evident in the most obvious moments of being wildly out of control, but also in the more intimate moments when she takes a long needed drag of a vape. Addiction is about controlling the uncontrollable, and for the most part, she is not going to accept that. Her intelligence, wrapped in a personal need for denial, will not allow the powerlessness to find a home. It’s clear that giving up is what is needed to overcome, and for Emma, there is no way in hell she is going to give up anything.
During the first hyperkinetic withdrawal, thanks to some profound movement design by Alyssa Martin (Rock Bottom’s hollow mountain), the space around her actually crawls with a chaotic, almost violent merging of sound and light. Thanks to the stellar work of lighting designers Bonnie Beecher (Stratford’s Something Rotten!) & Jeff Pybus (Talk is Free’s La Bête), alongside sound designer Thomas Ryder Payne (Crow’s Wights), they play and dance with each other most effectively in a pounding, disturbing, and shocking head trip that externalizes the internal physical and emotional agony of addiction. This lone wolf has never before had to depend on the kindness of strangers like she needs to now, with these other people, in this place, while attempting to use and embrace this thing called rehab and recovery, and her descent is addictively wondrous, brutal, and painfully magnificent.
The rest of the company; the extraordinary Fiona Reid (Coal Mine’s Hedda Gabler) as her doctor, her therapist, and her mum; along with the subtle yet engaging Matthew Gouveia (Unit 102 Actors Co.’s The Late Henry Moss) as rehab worker Foster; the fascinating Farhang Ghajar (Soulpepper’s The Seagull) as fellow Mark; the astounding Oliver Dennis (Soulpepper’s King Lear/Queen Goneril) as the end-is-near fellow Paul as well as Emma’s dad; and the solidly talented ensemble members; Nickeshia Garrick (Maelstrom Art Collective’s Nasty), Sam Grist (Rock Bottom’s Fantasylover), Sarah Murphy-Dyson (Low Rise’s Her Inside Life), Kwaku Okyere (Tarragon’s Craze), and Kaleb Tekeste (Vertigo’s Clue) as fellows and emotional mirrors; find power in their form and function.
Dressed in perfectly conceived costumes by Laura Delchiaro (Coal Mine’s The Sound Inside), they attempt to take on this wild cat, while also trying to hold onto their own. They run with her, battle her, dismiss her, and try, foolhardily, to tame her. Standouts in this tight group of solid professionals are the multi-role playing caregiver and caretaker, Reid, who is thick with understanding, patience, and empathy two-thirds of the play, until that last character and scene, that annihilates the room while also maintaining a logical understanding of motive and need. Also fantastic is the fellow rehab patient, Mark, played by the ever so talented Ghajar, who takes us on a journey with him from chaos to being a holder of the faith and a caretaker of the rule book.
It’s a wild ride, packed with triggers and shots of adrenaline and destruction. The ramifications are real and intense in this stellar production of Macmillan’s People, Places and Things at The Coal Mine Theatre, Toronto, and no one gets off this rollercoaster without feeling the pain and fury of addiction. But it also gives us hope and a glimpse of salvation, not from God, but from the spirit that lives within this powerkeg of a woman. It’s masterful in its depiction and presentation, overflowing with creative impulses that resonate as strong and true as one could hope for inside a play about being seen for the addict you are, and the soulful human you dream of unpacking.
