Have you noticed? A post-pandemic gold rush of great theatre has swept across Toronto this fall. Companies large and small have struck a motherlode of energizing and engrossing theatrical creativity. As we approach mid-December, this embarrassment of staged local riches means we have – almost – too many options available.
Switching to a seasonal metaphor, the Toronto stage right now is like a sumptuous holiday meal: even when you feel nearly full, there’s always one more tempting dish you just have to try. In that spirit, allow me to bring to your attention a juicy offering that you may not know about. Icarus Theatre, a brand-new company, is currently mounting Toronto’s first-ever production of Kenneth Lonergan’s Lobby Hero at the Alumnae Theatre. In 2018, this 2001 play was revived off-Broadway in an award-winning production that featured Michael Cera and Chris (Captain America) Evans. The Toronto production, which is directed by Liam Eric Dawson, runs until December 17. And in it, the Icarus cast do a masterful job of bringing Lonergan’s complex and layered characters to life.
A sharp and thought-provoking play, Lobby Hero examines the malleability of morality through the interwoven situations and dilemmas of four characters. The four are indirectly brought together in a dingy apartment building lobby by a developing murder investigation. Jeff and William are security guards who protect the apartment complex surrounding the titular lobby. Before the play begins, we encounter Jeff (played by Icarus CEO and Artistic Director Anthony Goncharov) at his center-stage desk. He is yawning his way through the tedium of a job that he needs, but which (we soon learn) he hopes to transcend. A relatable young everyman, Jeff is struggling with a sense of aimlessness and a difficult past. In a multi-layered, winning performance, Goncharov unfurls a sly, rumpled charm atop a mix of insecurity and awkwardly well-intentioned – though unfocused – earnestness.
Jeff’s supervisor William, played by a magnetic Matthew G. Brown, strides in at intervals to direct and correct Jeff. A confident, commanding presence, he has high standards and a rigid moral code . . . until a personal dilemma causes cracks in this façade. Brown brings almost palpable intensity and pathos to the role. The Jeff-William dynamic is a highlight of the production, as the pair’s opposing personalities and evolving ideologies clash, generating a series of unsettling events. Goncharov and Brown deftly navigate the shifts in their relationship right to the end, keeping us on the edge of our seats.
The play’s other two characters are uniformed police officers who, in their patrols of the area, periodically visit the building’s lobby. Bill, played with self-assured swagger by Connor Briggs, is the archetypal street cop who is skilled at his job, and is not above using his authority for his own purposes. His partner Dawn is played with vulnerability and determination by Emily Anne Corcoran. A rookie cop, she is eager to prove herself. But she faces a misogynist work environment and is conflicted about the ethical implications of her job. The tall, lanky Briggs and the diminutive Corcoran play out a power imbalance that mirrors their difference in physical stature – and the actors lean into their conflict with relish and credibility.
Lonergan’s play expertly weaves together the intersecting storylines of these four characters, creating a tapestry of interrelated moral dilemmas that are birthed and mutated in concentric circles of dialogue between successive pairings: Jeff-William, Bill-Jeff, Bill-Dawn, Dawn-Jeff, and Bill-William. To be clear, it would be an understatement to say Lobby Hero is talk-centric. Through these many compelling dialogues, the characters articulate their moral compasses, reveal their unconscious impulses . . . and then swing their compasses to align with new directions. We’re not quite sure where the characters will allow themselves to be taken, or where it’s all going – but it’s an amazing ride. There’s so much talk, but no tedium whatsoever.
The lobby set is charmingly, appropriately lean. In addition to Jeff’s desk and a simple seating area, its main element is a realistically painted but barely-there cardboard-styrofoam back wall that includes mailboxes and an elevator (which Bill uses several times). Minimalist brick piles form the lobby’s front wall corners, which allows certain scenes to take place in front of the building. The contrast of this flimsy setting with that looping, ultra-realistic dialogue is potent and resonant. After all, the lobby is just a loose pretext for these four characters to meet. It’s the happenstance centre of the circles of dialogue, in which these characters make situational choices that impact each other’s lives . . . and which, in turn, force further situational choices. The setting’s lack of solidity reflects the characters’ own lack of stability. What the ending leaves us to wrestle with is what all this insubstantiality ultimately means . . . and whether that lack may prove fatal to some – or all — of the four.
MInor quibbles with the production include some curious dimming of the lighting that I couldn’t quite understand. In addition, as the play opens,, a recorded song which I couldn’t place plays while Jeff putters around. I really liked the song for both its tune and thematic resonance, but it plays for a couple of verses too long. Better to move more quickly into the action. But these are mere footnotes that are more than compensated by this smart play and captivating company.
So . . . as you plan your theatrical repast for the next week of this holiday season, don’t overlook this tasty dish plated by Icarus Theatre. Lobby Hero raises difficult questions about loyalty, integrity, and the role of authority. And the cast’s strong performances – and the way they speak to the stability of your own beliefs and values – will provide plenty to chew on at your eventual holiday dinner.
Reserve tickets for Lobby Hero here. Arts workers receive a 30% discount with the code “ARTSWORKER”. Rush tickets are $20 (cash) or $25 (debit/credit) at the door.
© Scott Sneddon, SesayArts Magazine, 2022
