Luke Reece in “As I Must Live It”, Photo by Cesar Ghisilieri
In order to tell his story properly, even without—as he prefers it!—an ending, Luke Reece disarms us with a strategically modest and informal beginning. Appearing suddenly amongst us in the cozy lobby, his chill vibe is deliberate and purposeful. With a red backpack and bright-eyed exuberance, he channels a younger self—playful, trusting, and unapologetically thrilled we’ve all shown up for him.
Bustling eagerly about us, slyly building his world with anecdotal factoids, he finds a way to acknowledge each of us. He hands out some key props, prepping us for active engagement. He’s already established intimacy, so there’s some solid camaraderie as he leads us into the theatre and its immersive landscape. As I Must Live It, presented by Theatre Passe Muraille and Modern Times Stage, is a lyrical spoken word exposé steeped in the whimsy and ache of childhood.
The centrepiece of Jackie Chau’s set is a modular carousel littered with sheets of pastel-coloured paper. Piles of tires and suspended screens fill in the rest of space which Reece uses in its entirely. The in-the-round audience—on both traditional seating and cushions, benches or floor—have to shift and pivot to follow him as he runs, climbs and scrambles about the stage and catwalk.
Wrestling with his identity as a “hybrid”—rankled by the context and connotations of that fraught term—he invites us into his early years as a child of a white, Italian mother and a Black father from Barbados. Upon loosing his job, his father’s OCD and depression overwhelmed him, disrupting the family unit. Reece’s own journey to manhood begins with this early struggle to understand his father.
Inspired by his youthful fixation, he dresses up as a dinosaur. He plays ball with us. We sing together. We catch glimpses of his developing artistry with early poems, essays and stories. Taking on the role of MC for his own life story, he maneuvers in an out of improvisational elements, though even the tight and evocative poetic text feels urgent and spontaneous. Reece is intensely charismatic and lands on naturalistic rhythms for his well-chosen words.
Dramaturge and Director Daniele Bartolini maintains a truly astonishingly integration of Reece’s introspective vulnerability and the multi-media spectacle that surrounds him. Designed Barret Hodgson and Thom Buttery of Limbic Cinema, the immersive projections that fill an array of surrounding screens are emotive and exhilarating. Images of Reece, his family and a barrage of words swirl about as he examines his own experience and pays loving tribute to both his parents—a man broken down by circumstances and mental illness, a nurturing women holding the family together.
One episode I found particularly cathartic is a spoken word sequence where Reece versifies his response to an acquaintance of his dad’s who, expressing concern about their relationship, confronts him in Aéropostale. As his hurt and rage increases, he lays out all the private and painful specifics that inform their tense and complicated relationship—finally building towards an epic smackdown.
Even through the angst of disappointment, his father’s humanity still resonates for Reece. Having discovered his father’s philosophical, confessional writings, they provide an artistic tether between them. And those writings figure prominently in Reece’s self-reflection.
The stereotype of deadbeat Black fathers looms over Reece’s shoulder, propelling him through this nostalgic unpacking of their individual and shared baggage. Having forced himself to address and examine this unflattering cultural perception, he welcomes us into his headspace and encourages us to look closer and dig deeper. Life and people are complicated; Reece wants us to know it’s ok to not be ok. And that it’s ok to talk about it. More than ok, it’s vital.
As I Must Live It
running February 11 to March 2, 2024
Theatre Passe Muraille, Mainspace (16 Ryerson Avenue)
running time: 80-90 minutes
Luke Reece in “As I Must Live It”, Photo by Cesar Ghisilieri