Withrow Park: deeply and darkly comic
22 Nov 2023

by Drew Rowsome - Photos by Cylla von Tiedemann

Dreams don't have a dramatic structure. What if I'm still dreaming?

At least twice throughout Withrow Park a character has trouble distinguishing between a dream state and a waking one. This is understandable as the house that looks out over Withrow Park exists in a theatrical space where reality bends. A divorced couple, Janet and Arthur, share that house with Janet's sister Marion. A "shabbily dressed" man or, "a man in a rumpled suit," knocks at the door to introduce himself. He is new to the neighbourhood. Janet takes a fancy to the young man, Marion is just as intrigued from a different angle, she is convinced he is a psychopath who is up to no good. Arthur's reaction is more complicated. Arthur has just come out which triggered the divorce. The young man, Simon, turns out to be Johnathan Sousa (Yerma) so Withrow Park could easily have veered into Entertaining Mr Sloane territory, but playwright Morris Panych (Frankenstein Revived, 7 Stories, Sextet) has other concerns, both metaphysical and mundane, on his mind. When we first see Simon, he appears more homeless than shabby, with visual dirt on the hem of his suit jacket, and the time after that he is nude and back from the dead.

There are several potent ideas spinning through the plotlines that make up Withrow Park. A homeless man who introduces himself to the neighbourhood he takes up residence within is intriguing, though it risks falling prey to the trope of the uptight middle class being taught the meaning of life by a free spirited social inferior. Arthur's coming out was apparently not as smooth as the characters would like it to appear. Benedict Campbell gives us an Arthur who is confused by his own desires, who, after being rejected by a man who disappears to Palm Springs with a dog walker, clings to what little his former marriage offered. That is understandable as Janet is played by Nancy Palk (Prodigal, Queen Goneril, King Lear, Wormwood) who is an irresistible comic and dynamic force. Her withering comments—Arthur's coming out is referred to as "some mistaken principle of self-realization" and as a "recent development, before that he was just emotionally unavailable"—drive the play as much as her dithering and insistent hostessing.  

The character studies continue with Marion, Corrine Koslo, who is dottily planning suicide out of sheer world-weariness. She was also part of a triangle with Janet and Arthur and the sisterly bonds strain against the sexual ones. Marion wants things to stay the same despite being incisive about what is psychologically wrong with the triad living situation. Koslo is particularly adept at undercutting an assertion with a comment or an underline that renders it moot or ridiculous. And she projects, telling Janet that "You thrive on unhappiness. You like things the way they are so that you have something to look down on."  All three of the housemates feel trapped as they look out the windows at the activities in the park across the street. All three vaguely bemoan their age—Janet facing blindness, Arthur feeling undesirable, and Marion suffering from a bored malaise except when there is the possibility of a violent crime—because "when you stop wanting, you die." All confused about how they are seen and even more about what they are seeing.

With such heavy themes Withrow Park could easily become a weighty slog but Panych is a witty writer and director Jackie Maxwell (London Road) runs with the sitcom rhythms emphasizing punchlines, character comedy and blackouts. A lighthearted melancholia infuses the entire proceedings with extended, and very funny, riffs on alcoholism, status, suicide, and other serious subjects. The action, and the laughs, take place on a detailed set by Ken MacDonald) that feels lived in and realistic which makes the arrival of the younger interloper all the more jarring. We see Simon, the only one who we actually watch leave the house though the others all plan to or yearn to or say they have, through a frosty window, a ghostly apparition and as mysterious as he is going to become. He also brings the quips and comedy to a crashing halt as the trio compete for his attention and the surreal plot points go a step too far for my taste pushing me out of the play just as I wanted to be drawn further into the darkness. All of the actors are stellar and their dedication and deft timing paper over the tonal shifts and twists. Spotlighting Sousa's derriere doesn't hurt either, but it feels like a distraction as much as a metaphor. All of the characters are avoiding moving forward, hoping that Simon will trigger the action they need. In that, they reflect Withrow Park itself: there is something deeply and darkly comic to be said about age, sexuality and the awareness of death, and Panych flirts with those thoughts without committing to their reality. We might still just be dreaming.