Welcome back Love and Human Remains. It’s been two decades since you provoked highly controversial reactions from area audiences.
Since then local theatregoers have developed a more sophisticated, experimental palate that has distilled the original shock value. But by any standards, Brad Fraser’s edgy play running at the Timms Centre until Nov. 13 is a disconcerting experience, a queasy battle of emotions.
A former Edmonton resident, Fraser wrote the script detailing local landmarks. With his trademark in-your-face style, he shows us the underbelly of a trendy urban world where damaged gays and lesbians yearning for love physically intersect. But they are dishonest with themselves, and that desperately sought emotional intimacy always eludes them, often with painful consequences.
Director John Kirkpatrick’s production is powerful, smart and appealing as it probes the characters’ knocks and bruises, and in a sense, their coming of age. In this powerful Studio Theatre show performed by the University of Alberta BFA graduating class, Kirkpatrick’s deft hand never shies away from difficult choices, and throughout the impeding apocalypse he is intent on revealing characters’ vulnerabilities and humanity.
It is a bleak, confrontational world where characters are tense, abrasive and violent — often circling each other like panthers in a cage. David (Ben Dextraze), a former child actor and current waiter shares an apartment with a neurotic book reviewer Candy (Gianna Vacirca). His best friend Bernie (Peter Fernandes), a man filled with a deep sense of warring impulses flows in and out of their lives with unexpected regularity.
As David roams the streets searching for a gay lover, Candy desperately tries to find love with the heterosexual Robert (Ted Sloan) and Jeri (Spenser Payne), a lesbian who makes her move at the gym. In the background, a serial killer is murdering young women.
This is a very strong cast and their performances are weighted with a fierce drive that gives the show a surreal sheen. Dextraze’s David has a swagger that suggests a sense of superior difference. Vacirca’s Candy is superb as a dysfunctional woman encrusted by survival mechanisms, yet recklessly jumps into bed with strangers. Kane (Chad Drever), 17, is David’s lover and a sweet, untainted teen at the crossroads of life. And then there’s Payne’s Jeri, a gentle, giving woman prepared to fight for love.
Last but not least, St. Albert’s Kyla Shinkewski plays Benita, an all-seeing psychic prostitute, a doctor who treats everyone bruised by love. Lying on her round bed, she embraces and heals lost souls in despair.
This is a fast-moving play where men and women spread their loins. Yes, there’s full nudity of both sexes, yet it never comes across as a gratuitous titillation. As each character sheds clothes, their emotional/psychological armour crumbles before us. Under the sure hand of Katherine Jenkins’ vibrant light design, it is exquisitely tasteful. And a special nod to Nicole Bach’s tiered set with scaffolding that creates an imprisoned urban vibe.
