
David Scotland and Robert Strange in I’ve Never Met Anyone Quite Like You Before | Photo courtesy of quitelikeyou Productions
One of the most engaging aspects of I’ve Never Met Anyone Quite Like You Before, presented by quitelikeyou Productions, is how elegantly it exists in that nebulous space between fable and grounded drama. Bookended by the (almost) same scene playing out between two men meeting in a gay club, David Scotland’s debut play is a thoroughly entertaining tribute to that relationship, to family, to the artistic impulse and to self-love. Having had a successful UK run at the 2023 Edinburge Fringe and London’s Old Red Lion Theatre, it began its international tour with a two-night run at Toronto’s cozy Red Sandcastle Theatre.
Scotland himself plays his protagonist of the same name, David. With an endearing quirkiness, he wears his vulnerability and self-doubt there on his sleeve, almost as a preemptive defence against dismissal. He’s also an actor—not just a profession, but an integral aspect of his identity. The scene where he turns a mediocre audition into a full-on declaration of self-worth is a cathartic bit of wish fulfilment.
Robert Strange plays Art, an obvious foil and an attractive opposite. His intrusion into David’s personal space charges the air around them. Where David is timid and accommodating, Art is assertive and unguarded. Strange embodies Art as authentic and guileless with a relatively gentle brand of arrogance. They seem an ideal pairing, each bringing qualities to the relationship that provide beneficial contrast. Though, as in life, things don’t so smoothly.
The structure of the piece gives us snapshots of David and Art’s relationship broken up with interstitial segments where David connects to various important people in his life—his dad, mum, a good friend, God, himself—through a variety of formats—prayer, voicemail, a video will. We get a very holistic sense of David, his world and perspective. Art is also well-developed, though it often feels as if he might be a symbol—a therapeutic sounding board, an intriguing object of attraction, an aspirational ideal. Not that he doesn’t feel grounded as a person, he absolutely does—this is an example of the captivating ambiguity Scotland and his collaborators achieve.
I appreciate the thematic and tonal variety of the David-Art vignettes. It is a very honest and specific rendering of the mundane rewards and frustrations of a relationship. From issues of monogamy to conflicting domestic lifestyles, it all feels very relatable. Scotland and director Amy Allen find new and theatrically compelling shapes for each of these interactions. The way a hoodie becomes a subtle fixation throughout a scene is an example that stood out to me. Another highlight is a raw and emotive movement sequence that conveys their fluctuating affection and conflict by abstracting it, inviting us to intuit the essence.
Their discussions also provide a satisfying range—from ordinary to deeply poetic. Their discussion of fears, an eerie monologue about a dissociative episode, a very sexy bit where they role-play reinvent their relationship as a cult of two—all fully absorbing. The passive-aggressive argument about cleaning the kitchen ends with a suggestion of violence—made even more real by being left to our imaginations.
As there is no set and very sparing use of props, the lighting, without ever drawing attention to itself, provides a consistently shifting visual landscape. And the soundtrack is full of evocative needle drops. While I’m not entirely on-board for the immersive aspect of the finale—I didn’t sign up for a dance party and think it fair that you have some warning—I do appreciate the ethos of it. And the closing story beat is quite beautiful.

