Ahmed Moneka and Jesse LaVercombe in ‘King Gilgamesh & the Man of the Wild’, Photo by Dahlia Katz
“If you totally get it, it’s not a good story.”
The Epic of Gilgamesh is majestic yet allusive. Touching on many primal aspects of human life and demanding so much of our intuition, it remains lodged in our collective psyche. It certainly resonates for Ahmed Moneka and Jesse LaVercombe. Weaving together aspects of their intimate friendship and artistic bond, they retell this ancient story, reframing it as an extension of their own lives. Presented by Soulpepper and TRIA Theatre, King Gilgamesh & the Man of the Wild features an on-stage band which provides a jazzy, Arabic musical soundscape.
Moneka, an Iraqi Muslim exile who’s just been granted permanent resident status with a baby due; LaVercombe, a Jewish actor from Minnesota about to fly to LA for a career-making film opportunity—they meet by chance at a Toronto cafe and an intense friendship quickly develops.
They share deeply personal stories that range from hilarious to harrowing. Their life experience is radically different yet they quickly recognize each other’s trauma and a shared need for purpose and connection. Through evocative lighting and subtle shifts in body language, they glide seamlessly between their own friendship and that of King Gilgamesh and Enkidu.
Co-playwright and director Seth Bockley draws on the mundane elements of the cafe set and props to transport the pair into ancient Mesopotamia and a mythic world where human, beast and god co-exist in a heated delirium. LaVercombe and Moneka take full advantage of their contrasting physicality to sell these mirrored stories of diverse attraction.
With his larger, imposing frame, Moneka’s smooth slide into the arrogant Gilgamesh feels entirely natural. LaVercombe, considerably slighter and more demonstrably agile, is fully persuasive as the beast Enkidu who becomes human. Their connection is incredibly compelling, an intense portrait of male affection that is both tender and fierce.
As these two stories of friendship—ancient and contemporary—run in-tandem, the urgency and momentum of the jumps between them ramp up. Eventually, conversations will pivot back and forth on single lines of dialogue. This sort of device can so easily feel sloppy or contrived, but the execution here is tight and thoroughly convincing. There is a thrilling elegance to how a tossed cloth can bridge the distance between the immediate and atavistic.
Despite the many thematic balls in the air here—birth, mortality, grief, camaraderie, legacy—there are no awkward fumbles. This sensual, exhilarating experience works as both a meditation on the acceptance of death and an impassioned celebration of life. The musical element especially creates an immersive, jam-session vibe that pulls us into the warmth and inclusion of collaborative artistic creation.