Istvan Dugalin ➤

Jake Copland and Desmond Lazar in ‘Fiji’, Photo by Emily Anne Corcoran

When Sam first comes bumbling into Nic’s home, nicely dressed with a bottle of wine, he’s a bundle of nerves. Before we know what’s going on, his furtive demeanour sends up alarm bells. Whatever his romantic intentions are, he’s intensely expectant and anxious. Nic is reassuring, but something is still… off.

Have you heard of Armin Meiwes? I was both intrigued and repulsed with his case back in the early aughts. In 2001, Meiwes had, consensually, murdered and ate a man who responded to his online ad. His presence—and that of his victim (and accomplice), Bernd-Jürgen Armando Brande—haunts Fiji. With their dark and poignant romantic comedy, presented by Icarus Theatre, playwrights Eddie Loodmer-Elliott, Pedro Leandro and Evan Lordan offer up a surprisingly jaunty re-imagining of that scenario in the relationship between Sam (Jake Copland) and Nic (Desmond Lazar).

There is some blatantly cryptic dialogue early on as the playwrights try to build the mystery with evasive banter, but it isn’t long before the truth is out—a surprise for those who might not have guessed beforehand, a relief to those who were waiting for the sidestepping dance to stop. Regardless of the true crime inspiration, what I won’t spoil here is how this ends for Nic and Sam.

I was completely charmed by this. Even though we see the tarp and butcher knife waiting, even though we dread where this situation might be headed, their dynamic is remarkably endearing. The script, which maintains a delicate lightness of tone, is a naturalistic portrait of a tense meeting. As Sam and Nic tease, seduce, interrogate and challenge each other, this whole encounter feels authentic and almost mundane—like so many fraught yet underwhelming first dates.

The structure allows for a sense of real-time, continuous action while also gently allowing the passage of time. There are smooth jumps in the dialogue punctuated by shifts in mood—though some of lighting designer Lidia Footes‘ colour choices seem a little arbitrary. Though mostly naturalistic, sometimes garish red and green backlight is present. My guess would be that this is meant to increase the grotesqueness of the environment as we near the potentially gruesome conclusion, but it isn’t consistently progressive in that way.

Copland and Lazar have solid, compelling chemistry—enabled and enhanced, I’m sure, by fight and intimacy director Michelle Lewis. Of the two, I found myself most drawn to Copland’s Sam. And not so much because he’s the potential victim; the script attributes more mystery to his motivations than with Nic, and Copland is so cagey and withholding despite being the more vulnerable and emotionally forthcoming of the pair. Beneath his hospitality and attentive affection, Lazar’s Nic feels essentially aloof. He’s got an edge, of course, and does absolutely convey his investment in Sam and their pact.

Director Anthony Goncharov bolsters and sustains my favourite aspect of this piece: the consistency with which it makes space for buoyant energy amidst such grim circumstances. The focal point of Emily Anne Corcoran’s set is a plushy red sofa that dominates the small space. This is, of course, a me thing, but it added to the overall discomfort of the situation as my skin crawls at the thought of how that too-soft sofa feels. The waves and breeze of a distant beach drift in and out of Erik Richards’ sound design—a motivic nod towards Sam’s exotic vacation cover story—and an eerie, faint bell chime is ominously foretelling.

This sophomore effort from Icarus Theatre is a successful scaling back. Their 2022 production of Lobby Hero had a number of compelling aspects, but was undermined by inadequate resources for the substantial production values they were attempting in a venue that was, I think, too large. In Theatre Passe Muraille’s cozy backspace, they have been able to properly realize an intimate, compelling two-hander that’s a chilling and tender treat.

Fiji
running March 29 to April 7, 2024
Theatre Passe Muraille, Bob Nasmith Backspace (16 Ryerson Ave.)
running time: 65 minutes (no intermission)

Jake Copland and Desmond Lazar in ‘Fiji’, Photo by Emily Anne Corcoran