It has taken me a long time to write about this show. To form cohesive thoughts about the experience, the work, the script in this time. The ensemble’s work was outstanding, each character living and breathing in their own space and time, and yet working as such a perfect unit, almost in secret. Every element of design drove the focus of the audience perfectly, whether the sound, or set, or costume. This is deeply challenging work.
There were times where an actor took time to do something, or cross the space, or even speak, where I for a moment felt I wanted them to hurry up. This was my impatient self, the self who processes too quickly and dismisses too easily. The moments needed the time, they deserved the time - and they were more than earned.
There were moments where dance and song gave power to the women, unity in their voices brought strength.
I cried.
I don’t know the last time I wept in the theatre. It might never have happened. I wept in frustration and sadness and anger at the ongoing issue of women going missing or being murdered. I wept thinking that the enormous list of women that was read aloud, ticker tape style across the stage, was from the 1980s. Because this list has only grown and grown and nothing seems to fix it.
I cannot imagine a better play or production to open the inaugural season of the National Indigenous Theatre in Canada. I am saddened that the house wasn’t full, that the run wasn’t longer. Everyone needs to see this play.