Jada Rifkin, Kiana Woo, Scott McCulloch, Sean Jacklin, Hayden Finkelshtain, Lisa Norton and Hilary Adams in Life Sucks. | Photo provided by the company
When I sat down to watch Life Sucks., the inaugural production from Outliers Theatre Collective, the generic and scrappy set seemed designed for sketch comedy: curtained backdrop, a few chairs, a table, vacant picture frames, a piano, a little promontory off to the side jutting out towards the audience and a small mounted projection screen displaying the company’s name—eventually serving as a Brechtian title card display.
When the cast takes their places at the top of the show, they speak directly to us as actors and the comedy troupe ambiance is even more palpable. But it is in this fourth-wall breaking prologue that the tight specificity and theatrical tension of Aaron Posner’s script—a modern, meta-theatrical adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya—becomes clear. The ersatz sketch comedy aesthetics, rather than diminish the very real dramatic intensity of the unfolding story, adds a layer of theatrical artifice that, paradoxically, increases the intimacy.
Full disclosure: I really did not expect to fully enjoy this as much as I did, let alone be so genuinely moved. I anticipated something more spoofy. And shame on me; I should have known better. I should have put the pieces together sooner. Y’see, back in 2017, I caught Posner’s adaptation of The Seagull—Stupid Fucking Bird, which was true to the angsty human heart of Chekhov’s classic. Life Sucks. has that same verity.
The story and dynamics are essentially the same. I won’t bother rehashing the plot Uncle Vanya, but its got all those juicy Chekovian markers—familiar people, from an array of generations, gathered, lounging and languishing and kvetching about: unrequited love, thwarted potential, barely suppressed rage, profound sadness, existential terror and the ultimate inevitability of, yes, death. It’s a good time. No, really, it sort of is. Let me be didactic for a moment. Chekov done properly is comedic. It requires a light touch, one that allows all of the dark anguish to rise to the surface naturally; otherwise, these people are just insufferable. Posner, director Tom McHale and this feisty and intrepid ensemble absolutely master that delicate balance.
The whole cast do fine job of connecting with the audience during gently interactive moments—which is worked into the design of the thing—and each other during the dramatic scenes. Every time I thought I had sussed out a favourite, somebody would swoop in to steal my heart again. They are all vivid and worthy of our focused attention—some just take a little longer to come into compelling focus.
Hayden Finkelshtain’s manic, love-sick and self-absorbed Vanya has all the trademarks of a Jewish caricature, rendered with affection and so authentically abject and vulnerable, I rooted for him despite his annoying quirks. His ever-intensifying rage-trembles are especially vivid. Scott McCulloch as his nemesis, the pretentious and crotchety Professor, is suitably infuriating and one of the most inspired bits of visual casting—when the script has him describe his outward appearance as “Mr. Burns,” well, there he is: the iconic cartoon villain in the flesh. As the brooding Dr. Aster, Sean Jacklin exhibits plenty of charm, both real and feigned. Oh, poor, homely Sonia—Kiana Woo took a while to grow on me, but by the third act, her vibe won me over—struggling to describe it, the I can offer is affable sadness. Jada Rifkin’s Pickles seems, at first, to be the show’s outright clown, but both the script and Rifkin find a poignant nuance. Babs is such a blast; Lisa Norton perfects that Chekovian archetype—the drunken, wise human ballast amidst hysterical mayhem. As Ella, a dissatisfied yet stoic woman, Hilary Adams has all the poise and warmth of an elegant matriarch who has retained her carnal wiles even if she finds their usefulness questionable amidst a flurry of unwanted romantic overtures.
As this meta-theatrical form demands, there are plenty of self-aware interludes, from individual characters connecting to the audience to plead their case and as a communal entity. I am especially fond of two round-robin segments in which they list three things they love, then three things they hate. The crucial aspect of Posner’s adaptation is this fixation on whether or not “life sucks.” This litany of specific, mundane minutiae that bring us joy or irritate the shit out of us is one of the ways the play wrestlers with that question. A segment called “Gratitudes” also posits the incredibly useful practice of identifying, on a regular basis, just one thing you are currently grateful for.
Life Sucks. is a low-key, solid first effort from Outliers Theatre Collective. I look forward to whatever they do next.
Life Sucks.
running April 30 to May 10, 2025
Small World Centre, Artscape Youngplace
(180 Shaw Street)
running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes (with intermission)
Kiana Woo and Hayden Finkelshtain in Life Sucks. | Photo provided by the company