Truck: largely impossible but so many people do it anyway

03 Mar 2025. by Drew Rowsome -photos by Graham Isador

"In the context of theatre, an urgent message doesn’t really land if it’s not entertaining," says Graham Isador (Short Sighted, White Heat, Situational Anarchy) of his upcoming play Truck. "That doesn’t mean a show has to be slapstick or broad. A really compelling design. An incredible performance. A well paced script. That’s all entertainment to me. I am always trying to entertain first. If the other stuff comes along, that’s fine too. In addition to my writing as a playwright and journalist, I spent a lot of time penning articles for satire websites like The Beaverton and The Hard Times. There is a lot of that flavor to Truck. I think it’s pretty funny. Maybe not always haha funny but definitely mhmm funny at least."

Isador is no stranger to using satire to dissect social issues. "My last play White Heat premiered in 2019 and examined the rise and acceptance of right wing extremism, explored through a single father and his anonymous podcast," says Isador. The first work of Isador's that I saw, Situational Anarchy, juggled hot button topics from the death of punk to trans acceptance to the corporatization of art. Both plays were pointed, riveting and packed with bitter and shocking laughs. The tagline for Truck is similarly of the moment: It’s 2038 and tech-giant Edison is set to introduce a line of self-driving vehicles. The tech will make ninety-nine percent of long-haul trucking autonomous, putting thousands out of work. Tonight, you’re invited to a retirement speech for the last truck driver in America. The theme hits very close to home for Isador.

"I wrote the earliest version of this script for a theatrical experiment called Wrecking Ball almost a decade ago," says Isador. "Writers were given a prompt and asked to create a piece speculating on what the near future might look like. I had been reading a lot about delivery robots — something that would later roll out in Toronto — and the automation of Amazon warehouses. I skimmed other articles announcing self-driving vehicles in Silicon Valley. And trying to read the room it seemed like so many companies were making a concentrated effort to cut people out of their products. Less humans, more tech. And if it was starting to happen now, what would it look like in ten years? What about twenty? Workers being replaced by technology was the biggest change I could think of. So much of that change was already in motion. I wrote the retirement speech to riff on some of the themes and chose truck driving because I wanted to perform the speech myself. Truck driving is usually a solo activity. I was right about a lot of the bigger themes of the show. But what surprised me is that since the first draft my work as a writer seems more in danger from emerging technologies than any truckers."

Isador wrote explicitly about his experience for The Globe and Mail in "AI is coming for my job. My boss told me so" about being replaced as a writer by ChatGPT. While the entire piece is heartbreaking and infuriating, one line in particular stands out: "While losing the copywriting work was a hit to my bank account, losing my writing career would be a hit to my identity." "I don’t fuck with AI mostly because I haven’t found a way to engage with it in way that feels artistic," says Isador. "But I think ignoring that it’s here is probably a mistake too. Hopefully artists with a bit more creativity than me learn to engage it as a tool. Or deconstruct it in a way that’s interesting. At the moment I don’t see a lot of space for that, mostly because AI wants to shortcut creating the work for you. I think there is value is in the process. It’s not just about an end product, it’s that someone wants to share an idea with me and put effort and skill into sharing that idea. To be crass about it, seeing a person undress is as special to me as the moment someone gets off."

Returning the focus to the play at hand, Isador says that, "Truck takes a look at the future of the job market and the compromises people make when they’re livelihood is threatened. When I’m writing, two of the main things I’m trying to think about is whether a show is going to be entertaining for an audience and why I feel compelled to tell this story right now. And the themes of this show are bubbling under the surface of every interaction we have right now. It’s what I think about when I’m alone with my thoughts for too long. Usually that’s the stuff that feels most compelling to dig into. The retirement speech anchors the show. But the lead up to that monologue is exploring a strike by all long haul truckers across North America. Without giving too much away the plot of Truck revolves around who gives the speech and why."

Of course theatre is also a business/art form that is struggling. Fortunately Isador has earned good will from fellow artists that matches his tenacity. "Ellie Moon is a close friend and huge talent," says Isador of his cast. "I asked her to do the reading of Truck at Summerworks in 2023 because I knew she’d make me look good. A major reason this show is happening is because she continually asked when we were going to take the script to production. I made excuses, mostly about money and time. There wasn’t enough of ether. But in addition to being a great actor and writer one of the things I really admire about Ellie Moon is her tenacity. She wanted to be in the play because she loved the play. We could figure out the rest later. And so we did figure it out. Craig Lauzon [An Unsafe Space, Orlando] is an actor I’ve admired for years. He is a stand out in every production he’s been in. I sent him the script and some reviews. He got back to me in a few days and agreed to come on board. And I’ve worked with Tim Walker [White Heat, Bone Cage, Rock] on several shows now. Even though Tim is in a bunch of plays each year, I think he’s one of the most slept on talents in Toronto. I feel real grateful to have this kind of team working on the show."

While self-produced, "Theatre is a terrible way to make a living. But I do this stuff because I love doing it. I’m paying folks honorariums from my savings and hope we sell enough tickets that I don’t lose money doing the play. There are a bunch of bells and whistles we could use to tell this story. But hopefully stripping it down to the essentials — along with a killer score performed live by Ron Kelly [Situational Anarchy] — speaks to some of the urgency of the script," Isador also lauds the institutional assistance of Factory Theatre. "I’ve known Mel Hague for a long time and she’s always been supportive of my work. Factory has donated time, space, and resources to bring this show to life. I’m grateful for that." He dismisses the theatre world gossip about the company's, and by extension the theatrical community's, troubles. "I think a lot of the chatter online is rooted in ideas that have very little to do with the day-to-day of what’s happening in the space. Honey, I’m Home sold a lot of tickets and won high praise from critics earlier this season. Hook Up started to bridge the gap between the theatre and comedy scenes this February. Those are two recent shows with big success. Continually talking as though the company isn’t doing work — and ignoring the support they’re giving to artists — is very annoying to me. My show doesn’t happen without Factory, this version of Factory, taking a risk on the work."

Though Isador has written often, and often bitterly, about the economics of creating theatre and art, he is at heart an optimist. "I play-act struggling artist a lot," he says, "but I’m a working writer and have been for a long time. I just don’t get to write for theatre very often because I need to make rent. I think it is important to be honest that the most I’ve ever made off a theatre production is ten grand. Most of the time I’ve broken even or lost money doing shows. I am putting on Truck with my friends because I think the show is good and I really want people to see it. And while I wish I could do this work full time, there’s something kind of romantic of doing something because you really want to. I wish everyone  had the space and means to pursue this kind of work if it’s meaningful to them. But I think if there is hope to be had it’s that this stuff seems largely impossible and so many people do it anyway."