Sean Arbuckle and Katherine Gauthier in “Casey and Diana”, Photo by Dahlia Katz
Of the many resonant aspects of playwright Nick Green’s Casey and Diana, I am most struck by its unflinching, humane gaze on our abject capacity for dysfunction and cruelty amidst suffering. Set in the early days of Toronto’s Casey House, during the height of the AIDS crisis; the story is set in the week leading up to a feverishly anticipated visit from Princess Diana. The physical and emotional toll of palliative care, for clients and their caregivers, is examined and a multitude of human blemishes are exposed. An astonishing paradox, so beautifully conveyed here, is the empathy and fortitude that can occur from the same core impulses that forge resentment and emotional barricades.
The Stratford production, presented by Soulpepper, is a thoroughly compelling work. Director Andrew Kushnir‘s staging is, for the most part, a naturalistic treatment that grounds us in the mundane, tangible realities of hospice life. Joshua Quinlan’s very beige set feels institutionally stale yet somehow cozy. I found my eyes landing on the plastic waste bins and colourful quilts—common yet comforting domestic artifacts.
There is a subtle, though distinctive, ecclesiastical quality in the walls which stretch upward in arched formation. It seems to suggest some larger purpose to the fraught lives that play out below. At key moments, an allusive, phantasmagorical force asserts itself—with an uplifting whoosh, a surge of light gets caught in the stained glass windows of this otherwise temporal room.
Thomas (Sean Arbuckle), a middle-aged man with rapidly deteriorating body and a mind prone to fanciful lapses, has been in this room long enough for it to be home. He’s near the end and copes with the burden through playful yet scathing humour. With his caustic facade, Arbuckle is a flamboyantly charismatic trouper.
His newest roommate, the much younger Andre (Davinder Malhi) is, at first, ill tempered and distant. He wields his anger and frustration like weapons against the inevitable decline he knows is coming. Even before he lets his guard down, Malhi draws our attention through his moody exterior to the scared, devastated boy still reeling from an early death sentence and homophobic alienation from his family.
Sophia Walker’s nurse Vera is a cool yet kind portrait of dutiful and compassionate dedication. Her stoicism is a hard-earned defence against the pain of dashed, unsustainably optimistic expectations. Her steadfast observance to policy and protocol keep her afloat in murky waters, but puts her at odds with the aggressively cheerful volunteer, Marjorie (Linda Kash). There is plenty of humour in the play, but Kash’s relentless buoyancy is particularly delightful and she’s got some real zingers. Her exuberance and benevolent disregard for professional guidelines is her own shield against the inevitable.
Thomas’s estranged sister Pauline (Laura Condlln) is an aggressive intruder into the space. Hoping for reconnection and demanding attention, her almost violent insistence seems both self-absorbed and genuinely loving. Their mutually antagonistic dynamic and eventual reconciliation charge the air around them.
Diana (Katherine Gauthier) drifts in and out, an elegant vision inhabiting the penumbral space of Thomas’s imagination. He adores the pageantry, fetishizes her poise and charm, but also basks in the kindness and audaciously public symbol of acceptance her mere touch represents. As this statuesque and idealized personage, Gauthier is reservedly warm and endearing. Their scenes together feel romanticized, a little magical, yet fully authentic too.
As an aspirational emblem, her presence also gives weight and dimension to the communal yearning for something to look forward to. When their dwindling time feels so oppressively bleak, the almost mythic significance of her impending visit becomes a vitalizing fixation.
The poetic shape of the play, glimpsed in whimsical flourishes and thematic echoes, is fully realized in the final moments. For all its attention to tactile details, the last image of the play is unabashedly lyrical. Like the developing relationships throughout, this transcendent denouement feels earned.
Casey and Diana
running January 23 to February 11, 2024
Young Centre for the Performing Arts (50 Tank House Lane)
running time: 2 hours, 30 minutes (with intermission)
Davinder Malhi and Linda Kash in “Casey and Diana”, Photo by Dahlia Katz