Agape Mngomezulu and Charlotte Salisbury in Romeo Pimp | Photo by Nate Colitto
Playwright Jesse McQueen’s challenge to the Hollywood depiction of sex trafficking is not so much undermined by the tropes she’s landed on, but enhanced by them; they throw the truthful nuances into stirring relief. Romeo Pimp, the first production of The King Black Box’s second season and presented in partnership with One East Productions, does sometimes feel like an after school special, but that quality works in tandem with a through line of authenticity that holds fast in the writing, design and performance.
And it’s all very intense—this invitation to probe the circumstances of a handful of characters and humanize a numbing statistic by allowing us to witness firsthand how good people fall into a bad situation.
Fully in-line with TKBB’s commitment to raw and intimate experiences, the cozy and versatile venue once again offers rich immersion. This time, we’re sat in those old school combination desk chairs facing a teenage girl’s bedroom. Director Sophie Ann Rooney’s production design establishes a naive, girlish ambiance with details that capture a late-2000s adolescence. We can perhaps see her mother’s nostalgic influence in the stacks of Disney VHSs from the 1980s and early 90s. A beautifully symbolic sequence in the second act, which depicts the regimented removal of these artifacts, is viscerally dehumanizing and an effective representation of lost innocence.
Despite cryptic flash-forward sequences that indicate she’s headed for a very bad place (jarringly ominous sequences rendered by Jeff Styga’s sound and lighting by Grisha Pasternak and Jack Creaghan), most of the first act is rather light-hearted, establishing an average, rather comfortable teenage life for Jamie (Charlotte Salisbury). She has giddy girl-talk with her bestie Paige (athena kaitlin trinh), a loving dynamic with her mom (McQueen) and an affectionately tolerant thing going with younger brother Connor (Brennan Bielefeld). It’s this well-observed mundanity that will make the harrowing circumstances so affecting later on.
Despite being cheerful and reasonably well-adjusted; Jamie seems slightly isolated—sheltered by her family and a little eclipsed by the charms of the more popular and outgoing Paige. When the bashfully sweet Ryan (Agape Mngomezulu) suddenly inserts himself into her sphere, she’s drawn to his flattering attention and the crooning promises of protection. She gradually disconnects from her mom, brother, Paige and a concerned teacher, Mr. Tremblay (Creaghan).
Each of these characters have endearing quirks. Bielefeld’s boisterous, nerdy-jock persona is especially offbeat and, though I was initially thrown by their almost persistent awkwardness, I found myself gradually succumbing to Connor’s clumsy, good-natured weirdness. Salisbury radiates vulnerability in her portrait of teenage obstinacy, bewilderment, enthusiasm and anguish.
Running parallel to this compelling, initially innocuous scenario are abject snapshots of exploitation in Shane (Sam Wexler) and Michaela’s (Juliette Diodati) toxic dynamic. Many of their scenes play out at the side, where flat black walls and a sinister hallway plastered with posters of missing women are a striking contrast to the bright pink of Jamie’s bedroom. Rooney has cleverly linked Shane to the phenomena of those missing women and girls with the red of his sweatshirt echoing the red of the posters. It is a shame Michaela doesn’t register the connection the way we do, so desperately caught up in the fantasy of the life she wants to believe they are building, that her misery is paying for a future.
Our hackles are raised towards the end of the first act when we realize Ryan has ties to Shane and Michaela, though McQueen builds intrigue by not revealing the nature of their connection until the second act, when both of these worlds collide. While I don’t want to spoil the specifics, that motif of red becomes a visual indicator of Ryan’s allegiance. Like Jamie, he also seems caught in the falsely affirming magnetism of Shane’s attention. And Mngomezulu, even when we see Ryan’s aggression and violent potential, consistently rouses our empathy.
As written, Mr. Tremblay’s urgent final attempt to disrupt Jamie’s self-destructive trajectory is the hokiest the play gets, though Creaghan and Salisbury’s veracious delivery does propel us through this scene. Wexler’s Shane is convincingly charismatic and repulsive in equal measure. Diodati colours Michaela’s toughness with a truly abject yearning that makes her journey as heartbreaking as Jamie’s, her acceptance and durability become painful to witness.
McQueen’s portrayal of Lisa, Jamie’s mom, goes to some wretched places, but it is two understated moments that hit me the hardest. When Jamie, for the first time, asks her to knock before entering her room, McQueen’s face tells us that the request holds more weight than intended—this sudden awareness that she is no longer fully invited into her daughter’s confidence. This moment has an amplified echo in the second act, where a more directly hurtful comment from Jamie lands a devastating blow.
To make the abundance of texting more immersive and intimate, McQueen and Rooney have characters pop out from hidden openings in the bedroom set and dramatize their texts. It’s fluid and well integrated. A deceptively comforting aspect of the unfolding drama that amused me is the way people keep climbing in and out of the bedroom window. There is a teen comedy, slumber party energy to this that I found quite charming.
The after school special vibes return in full force for a final coda which is purposeful and deeply moving, where the actors take their places in the bedroom set for a series of shout-outs to survivors of trafficking who continue to raise awareness and support victims. This potent finale, which rather blindsided me, is a persuasive tribute and call to action.
This production is a holistic achievement, informed by all collaborators, including dramaturgical consultation with Ferron Delcy, lived experience and ethical storytelling input from Jessa Crisp, and intimacy coordination by Lizzie Moffatt. All involved have made Romeo Pimp a strong, heartfelt and informative opener for TKBB’s second season.
Romeo Pimp
September 17 to October 5, 2025
The King Black Box
(1224 King St West, 3rd floor)
2 hours, 10 minutes (with intermission)
Charlotte Salisbury and Jesse McQueen in Romeo Pimp | Photo by Nate Colitto