Star Slade in Oleanna | Photo by Elana Emer
Whatever you think of his cringy current politics, David Mamet wrote some real bangers back in the day. Oleanna is one of them. Icarus Theatre’s production is a handsome affair—tight, punchy and captivating from start to finish. Director Anthony Goncharov and his cast own Mamet’s rapid-fire dialogue—a trademark—which demands the characters repeat phrases, overlap and cut each other off with convincing naturalism. Conversation, despite all the talking, is stalled. Even before we get to know John (Aris Athanasopoulos), a professor, and Carol (Star Slade), his student, we recognize their dynamic is strained. That tension—another trademark—never lets up.
Slade’s rigid posture conveys to us immediately that Carol is not comfortable in John’s office. She seems so contained and timorous as she confesses her utter bewilderment with his class. She clutches her notebook like a talisman, as if the solidity of its details is her only armour. There are brief, lovely little moments when she lets her guard down and seems genuinely charmed by him. Athanasopoulos luxuriates in his chair—his space—a charismatic presence, so ardent as to be borderline aggressive. Though John seems attentive, we gradually realize he’s running roughshod over her. Not a conscious intention, but more the result of his self-satisfaction at placing himself above, not just her, but the whole academic establishment that defines their relationship.
Despite the woeful urgency of her fears of failing the class, he spends a lot time deflecting her concerns with high-handed language. In the face of her abject anxiety, he continues to allow interrupting phone calls from his wife and their lawyer regarding the new house they’re about to close the deal on. This property acquisition is only an option because of his upcoming tenure—a plot point that becomes important later. As her distress becomes severe, his genuine attempts to mollify her are entirely misguided—a comforting hand on her shoulder, an offer to give her a perfect grade regardless of performance if she’ll just continue to meet with him.
During the next two acts, the stakes are raised exponentially as her report to the committee threatens his tenure and very employment. Hackles are raised. There are pleas and bargaining and abject calls to compassion. Whether her re-contextualization of his statements and behaviour are in good faith or not is a matter of interpretation, but after the initial shock of her accusations, an agenda becomes visible.
I don’t think Mamet was undermining the validity of her concerns about the institutionalized privilege of white male authority. Her challenge to John is authentic, but Carol’s language does point a finger towards opportunistic manipulation. Though firm and passionate, she often defers to her “group.” The power having shifted in her favour, she seems more a mouthpiece for socio-economic disenfranchisement than an entirely self-interested victim of abused power seeking justice. It’s telling that, rather than remain perfectly steadfast in her resolve, she—and ultimately her “group”—have an ultimatum up their sleeve.
Regardless of whether she’s a pawn in a power-grab or a genuinely independent thinker, Slade’s purposeful and assured performance is rife with nuances that threw me off balance. Carol exists to me on a spectrum from piteous to admirable to vexing. Athanasopoulos’ John, a disarming and likeable presence, seems more and more hapless as his power recedes. The more I think about the play, the more I shake my head at his naivety. He really is not equipped to examine his position, especially not under duress. And continuing their cloistered meetings was such a foolish move.
Ah, but it makes for great drama.
Goncharov, Slade and Athanasopoulos have established a behavioural language to track the cumulative impact of the power shift. The quality of their posture says so much about the escalating situation. Emily Anne Corcoran also does something rather clever with the layers of costuming. In the first act, John is fully protected in shirt, button-down and jacket, while her sleeveless arms and bare shoulders highlight her vulnerability. For each subsequent act, each increasingly disastrous interaction, he gradually gets more exposed as she barricades herself in layers of clothing.
Bharat N Vyas’ set is a modest, convincing academic office. The one striking oddity is a pair of smart glass panels positioned off to the side, in front of the office’s waiting area and exit. During some physical altercations, they go opaque as if to censor the impact or truth of them. I can’t suss out the reason for this obfuscation, especially considering the final, most devastating and damning episode is in full view.
The cast and creative team land the play’s final blow with fierce confidence and it feels entirely earned. Furthermore, it demonstrates that Oleanna still packs a punch. I knew what was coming yet I was still stressed. And your attitude towards Carol and John, who you think is most deserving of power (if either), reveals as much about you as it does them.
Oleanna
August 21 to 31, 2025
Tarragon Theatre Extraspace
(30 Bridgman Ave)
85 minutes (no intermission)
Aris Athanasopoulos in Oleanna | Photo by Elana Emer