Akosua Amo-Adem in “Table for Two”, Photo by Dahlia Katz
Frustrations with the dating scene, all that humour and heartbreak, are fertile ground for relatable storytelling. It is in their specifics that stories are potent, so the ubiquity of the subject doesn’t diminish playwright and performer Akosua Amo-Adem’s sincere and semi-interactive Table for Two. Presented by Soulpepper and Obsidian Theatre Company, this comedy allows Amo-Adem plenty of space to spread her warm energy as Abena (Abby), a Ghanian woman looking for a mate, balancing her own needs with her religious mother’s expectations and a tight friendship.
At the top, we find Abby in a compromising situation, grunting and groaning provocatively as she struggles with a pair of Spanx. A little surprised at first to have an audience witnessing this private spectacle, she quickly takes us into her confidence as she goes through her rigorous routine—getting herself ready to meet a man!
JD45, a promising suitor she’s been chatting with, may put an end to her string of bad luck, appease her eager mother, and finally quash her fears of growing old alone and dejected. With hair and dress on point, she’s a portrait of elegance. Seated at her table for two at a fancy Italian restaurant, the brightness drains from her face and our hearts sink as her self-assured facade sags with each minute that goes by with a still-empty chair. Amo-Adem’s greatly emotive face and posture make this crushing realization—of being stood-up at her most vulnerable moment—a palpable blow for the audience too.
The hopeful preparations and crushing disappointment are a resonant framing device for a series of flashbacks exploring her history with some less-than-stellar men. Some of them are known to us only by their dating app handles. Ryan Allen portrays each of these very distinct dudes in an impressive array of colourful personae. I have a soft spot for his boisterous Marcus007, the college student with an egg sandwich in his hoodie pocket, who offers up a downloaded movie on his laptop in an empty classroom as a date for this well-dressed woman in her mid-thirties. Weed-smoking fuck-boy Terrance has a certain, uh, appeal too, but proves ultimately pathetic. Even Patrick, the most grounded and mature of the lot—you can tell by his considerate vibes and dad sweater—ends up not working out because career aspirations remove him from the equation.
As her dutiful best friend, Janelle, Meghan Swaby is a charismatic side-kick. Their mantra of solidarity is quite lovely: “Your joy is my joy, always.” The pressures on friendship—late night salvation from hook-ups gone wrong and the competitive tension of life-milestones—is well rendered here. Swaby also has fun with the slightly too-concerned server at Abby’s very lonely table for two.
The ticking of Abby’s biological clock is echoed in the relentless questioning and unsolicited advice of her funny and frightening mother (Bola Aiyeola). Hovering with an oppressive attitude towards her daughter’s future, she does impart some contextualizing cultural perspective with details about their Ghanian heritage and her own personal experience. Though their relationship has seemed predominantly antagonistic, their final scene together is deeply poignant. A touching payoff, it features a motif I find especially resonant and endearing—grooming as an act of intimate affection.
With simple aesthetics, director Djanet Sears evokes a thick romantic atmosphere. Astrid Janson’s bare black stage features a set of three storage units dressed with props to convey each environment. Her stylish red dresses for Abby really make her pop from this backdrop. Nick Blais’s lighting is crisp and purposeful, indulging moments of intense red that feel particularly velvety in the ambient haze. In her sound design, Maddie Bautista creates some naturalistic, grounded vibes while also providing definition to time-jumps with an evocative swoosh.
The only element that felt a little off was the fact that, the whole time Abby spends waiting for this no-show man, it never occurs to her (or Amo-Adem) to call or text him. If this is meant to suggest her pride, I think it could be addressed more clearly; as it stands, it seems like an oversight.
As a fan of purposeful narrative ambiguity, the very final moment she leaves us with is fully satisfying. Will she slip into her old patterns or forge a new path forward? I love how much is riding on her decision and how we are left to imagine it for ourselves.
Table for Two
running February 7 to March 2, 2025
Young Centre for the Performing Arts (50 Tank House Lane)
running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes
Bola Aiyeola and Akosua Amo-Adem in “Table for Two”, Photo by Dahlia Katz