Kerry Sandomirsky, Alex Poch-Goldin and Allan Morgan in Ominous Sounds at the Touchstone Theatre.Matt Reznek/Supplied
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- Title: Ominous Sounds at the River Crossing; or, Another Fucking Dinner Party Play
- Written by: Jason Sherman
- Director: Roy Surette
- Actors: Angela Chu, Nicola Lipman, Allan Morgan, Monice Peter, Alex Poch-Goldin, Kerry Sandomirsky
- Company: Touchstone Theatre
- Venue: Performance Works
- City: Vancouver
- Year: Until March 13
Critic’s Pick
The culture wars came to the stage in Vancouver this week, with the world premiere of Governor-General’s Award-winning playwright Jason Sherman’s latest work. It starts off confusing and ends up a tad heavy-handed, but what a ride.
In Ominous Sounds at the River Crossing; or, Another Fucking Dinner Party Play, six characters enter the stage and create a tableau. The actors in the play are actors in a play and they are not sure about where it should go. The audience, meanwhile, isn’t sure about anything.
That’s okay. We’re supposed to be confused. Everything is mystifying now, off-kilter. Not just in this play, but in the world.
The actor/characters are voting. Things are sensitive – especially when it comes to references to race, any mentions of gender. Apologies are demanded, and issued – some more genuine than others. What’s actually going on remains opaque – but absolutely compelling.
Then the action starts, the play within the play, the dinner party of the title. Two couples, sipping wine, chatting about what people talk about at dinner parties (I vaguely recall), until they get to the Big Questions about what do you want to do with the rest of your life, prompted by the recent death of a mutual acquaintance.
This is when things get even more meta, with one of the actors in this dinner party play (Nicola Lipman) too upset to continue; she is replaced by another actor (Kerry Sandomirsky), who has been sitting on the sidelines.
Then the witty repartee morphs into something more real. One character (there are no names) asks: What are they doing with this dinner party play, with its “stale little psychodramas”? Outside these walls nature is collapsing and – I’m not sure if this line was added because of recent events – “battles are being fought.” (Of course, battles are always being fought.)
In other words: What is the point of staging plays, even plays that raise the Big Issues, when the actual world is collapsing? Sometimes quite literally.
Should the dinner party play be adjusted to reflect these concerns? Discussions ensue. Should the drama take on fast fashion, artificial intelligence, plastic choking ocean wildlife, the exploitation of factory workers in China – or here, in North America?
These are questions probably a lot of us are asking ourselves these days. You don’t have to work in the arts to feel impotent as war rages and the planet burns.
We go back and forth between worlds – the dinner party play, the discussion of the play – notified by a flicker and alteration in the lighting.
There is a lot on the table here: woke language (“pregnancy-adjacent harm”), depictions of privilege, discussions of appropriation. A chasm develops between generations: the confused, sometimes exasperated but well-meaning older characters (Why can’t we tell these stories the way we always have? We’ve been around the block a few times, you know) and the passionate younger one (Things have changed, you know).
This clever play might feel a little long, but it’s shorter than most dinner parties you’ve attended.Matt Reznek/Supplied
The young character (Angela Chu) is quiet for much of the play; she explains early on that she will speak later. And the stage becomes hers at the end. Suddenly everything stands still after the dynamic back-and-forth between these six terrific performers. An indication of gravity. Listen up.
Addressing the audience, Chu’s character expresses her generation’s angst and anger and fear and determination. And hope? Maybe. She urges us to continue this crucial conversation after we leave the theatre.
It’s a little lecture-y, and maybe that doesn’t serve the art. But so what? What’s the point of art if there’s nothing left outside the walls of the theatre?
At nearly two hours without intermission (an intermission would not have worked), this clever play might feel a little long. But it’s shorter than most dinner parties you’ve attended. Probably more entertaining. And more important.
In the interest of consistency across all critics’ reviews, The Globe has eliminated its star-rating system in film and theatre to align with coverage of music, books, visual arts and dance. Instead, works of excellence will be noted with a critic’s pick designation across all coverage. (Television reviews, typically based on an incomplete season, are exempt.)