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It's not the sort of play you expect to see in a community
theatre setting. It's rather rough for that.
There's coarse language, provocative situations and characters
that seriously negate any sympathy.
It's the sort of play that shakes you out of your firm
complacency. Jason Sherman's Patience doesn't bother to pander to
the slightest whiff of theatrical commercialism.
It prefers instead to assault the senses with ideas and
language that make you sit up and take note. You begin to wonder
how much of yourself you can find in the largely disagreeable
characters up there onstage. They're all losers in a sense.
Take Reuben. He's a successful guy. The sort of glad-hand sport
who pats you on the back and quacks on about last night's baseball
game.
A wife, two kids, a nice home in the suburbs and an
international future in mobile phones make him something of a
mover and shaker.
Then everything goes wrong.
He loses his wife, kids, job and home, though not in that
order. His estranged brother dies of cancer. An old love comes
back to haunt him. And everywhere Reuben goes, black clouds dump
on his handsome head.
Even though we don't like the guy a lot, we feel for his
pathetic predicament. We watch as he questions God, chaos and
frustrating vagaries of life.
We recognize and hate the blazing self-absorption that has
allowed life to blindside him, and we feel a twinge of pain for
this exploding schmuck.
Unfortunately Sherman's Job-like scenario, with its inherent,
sometimes annoying navel-gazing plays itself out. That it happens
before Patience reaches its hard-boiled conclusion is an endemic
problem to producing this thoughtful play.
The script is far from perfect. Sherman exhibits here many of
his familiar excesses, telling and retelling information for
instance, that we've already tediously absorbed.
Then there are those David Mamet-inspired rhythms that try to
jar you deliberately off base. And don't forget the punctuated,
awkward dialogue, pierced by annoying exclamation points.
So what's to like about Sherman's singularly urban script? I'll
tell you: It's the fact that the drama, with its black bent of
comedy, becomes so viciously engaging we follow reluctantly where
it leads.
Hoping for expiation, or at least minor soul-repairing
redemption, we cling to the possibility of every hopeful word.
That expiation never comes. And we realize we've been silly to
ever expect it.
We leave the theatre battered by the play's sometimes ugly,
frightening revelations. And it's difficult not to continue
thinking about these hopeless characters, caught up unwillingly in
the bleakness of nihilistic lives.
Thankfully, the play is given a fine production by Village
Theatre Waterdown. Technically it is a gem. The realistic
soundscape, dramatic lighting, moody and minimalist settings, as
well as perfectly appropriate costumes, give the play an authentic
yet theatrical sound and look.
Director Grant McConnell and his mostly fine cast suggest
wonderful commitment here. They work hard to make these
dispirited, largely wasted people come alive on the Village
Theatre stage.
Michelle Gault is a standout as the restless Liz. A quirky
actress, blessed with haunting expressive eyes, she imbues the
role of Liz with a penetrating, waifish quality.
Gault inhabits Liz's lost and lonely mostly troubled soul,
projecting such a little-girl-beaten quality that you long to
reach out and protect her from the ugly tragedy you know awaits.
Elaine Hale is excellent as Sarah, a betrayed and betraying
wife. And Marie Franek makes a meal of the angry, frustrated
Donna, a woman largely abandoned by a smug, self-centred husband;
a man who doesn't realize how much he loves her until it is far
too late.
Helder Da Silva is interesting as the empty-hearted Phil, a man
who exercise his body but fails to massage his weary soul.
And at the centre of this cool, rather calculated production,
Mark Besz finds the bleak and dispirited rage that might one day
erupt from the icy Reuben's strangled throat.
Sherman would have us believe his protagonist embarks on a
journey of self-discovery. I think not. It's more like a trip to
the dark side of human disappointment.
Whatever Reuben learns here about himself is largely wasted.
As Sherman's collection of battered spirits unite centre stage
to sing a parting song of lost innocence, we feel a sting in every
word they utter.
"For all we know, we may never meet again. Before you go,
make this moment sweet again. We won't say good night until the
last minute. I'll hold out my hand and my heart will be in
it."
The song fades out, its last dying notes an anthem of wicked,
bitter waste.
No wonder we don't leave the theatre buoyed by hopefulness.
This exit is more like a long, slow walk toward a troubling
confrontation with our own unresolved past. Good plays do that.
They force you to think and feel.
That doesn't always make them popular, but it does make them
worth producing. If you like your theatre to challenge what you
think you know about life, go see Patience.
by Sally Panavas
VIEW Magazine February 27, 2003
In an age where capitalism permeates every aspect of our culture,
playwright Jason Sherman asks a very important question in his
black comedy, Patience. “You have everything you need, but do
you need everything you have?” Sherman’s modern fable about
love and happiness comes alive on the Waterdown Village Theatre
stage, under the skillful direction of theatre veteran Grant
McConnell.
Patience introduces us to Reuben, a
familiar character in self-discovery drama. Reuben, played by Mark
Besz, is a classic everyman: fortysomething, middle class, and
high–strung, the kind of man who bickers with his wife, and
follows up his weekly racquet ball game with dinner at a Chinese
restaurant. It is on one of these MSG pig–outs that Reuben runs
into a long lost friend, who has decided to give up the rat race
to make independent films in Vancouver. This seemingly random
encounter sets of a chain of events that cause Reuben to lose
everything he once held dear. With his business and marriage in
shambles, Reuben runs off to Florida to stay with his brother, and
rebuild his life.
Besz is endearing as
Reuben, playing him with the right combination of sarcasm and
charm. For the play to work, the audience must root for Reuben,
even though he is largely responsible for the misfortune he
encounters.
Besz’s performance
is offset by Helder DaSilva in his role as Reuben’s brother,
Phil. DaSilva is hilarious as the recently divorced university
professor, smack in the middle of a mid-life crisis. Besz’s
neuroticism works well with DaSilva’s cool delivery, making
their moments together on stage quite memorable. Michelle Gault
plays Liz, Phil’s 19–year–old student and live-in
girlfriend, with quiet naiveté. Her interpretation is fitting, as
the audience does not see the true nature of Liz until the end of
the play.
Interspersed between
scenes of Reuben in the present, are flashbacks to a party that he
attended with his wife a decade ago. Hosts Paul and Sarah, played
by John Koetsier and Elaine Hale, come alive in the flashbacks as
a happy couple, later torn apart by the strains of marriage. These
scenes show us a brighter time, where Reuben and his friends
celebrate all the happiness that lies ahead of them. Unbeknownst
to Reuben, it is the events of the party that are responsible for
his downfall ten years later.
Koetsier and Hale
give measured performances, interacting well with each other, and
with Reuben. However, it is Marie Franek (as Reuben’s wife
Donna) who really stands out. Hopefully not acting out of personal
experience, Franek is perfect as the fed-up housewife who leaves
her husband in search of something more. She is a complex
character, conflicted by her love for Reuben and her knowledge
that the marriage is over.
Patience is definitely not a neat little story about a man who rediscovers
happiness. Rather, it is a realistic look at modern relationships
and the far-reaching consequences of betrayal. There are no easy
answers or quick fixes here, and director Grant McConnell plays
this realistic aspect of the show. As Reuben slowly realizes
throughout his journey, love in the real world is confusing and
difficult, and happy endings are the stuff of fairy tales.
Although the message of Waterdown Village Theatre’s
latest production may be hard to hear, we can all learn from the
mistakes of poor Reuben, and laugh while we do it.
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