Though I recognize the objective achievement of The Bidding War, and Michael Ross Albert’s playwriting career can develop as he sees fit, I much prefer the taut machinery of his single act, continuous action, pressure cooker format. I love the stress and exhilaration of watching, in real time, a mundane situation go from awkward to catastrophic. The thrill and intrigue, on their own terms, are impressive, but Albert isn’t content with sensation; his dire, relatable scenarios invite you to scrutinize your own worldview.
And so I’m thrilled to see this tight, wild little beast of a play again! I loved it back at the 2018 Toronto Fringe, but it’s especially satisfying to see Leroy Street Theatre, One Four One Collective and The Assembly Theatre gift us with a fully realized production of Anywhere.
We’re in the main room of Joy’s home. Amelia Mielke-O’Grady‘s realistic set is a drab little pocket of suburbia. Strewn-about Legos and a door marked “Ethan’s Room” in a crayon scrawl indicate that Joy, in her ratty T-shirt, is a poor mother. Liz, lugging her travel-case and dressed in business casual, is her more well-to-do Airbnb guest. A chess board mid-play holds symbolic resonance for the unfolding drama. A storm rages outside.
Though things are explicitly tense between Joy and Liz right from the jump, we think we have a fairly solid read on them and the situation, but our certainty quickly falters. As the two women tiptoe around the events of the night before, Albert gradually builds a hazy mythology around their drunken encounter by dropping cryptic little kernels. This is a familiar dramatic convention, of course, but masterfully executed here. The blunt vulgarity of the sudden reveal is a jarring yet oh-so-satisfying release.
Both of these women can be cagey, manipulative, vulnerable and cruel. Their escalating needs and desires, while uniting them, also pit them against each other. A desperate financial situation, a dissatisfying job, a history of reckless behaviour, a unique opportunity to satisfy an itch, a son dying of cancer, ulterior motives and the uncaring universe coming face to face with human hope—Joy and Liz must confront this array during their increasingly heated exchange. We’re never entirely sure of what is true, or how, or to what degree. There is booze and secrets and assumptions and tables turning and yes, there’s a pretty bad ouchie—two, actually!
Director Cass Van Wyck and the cast, Kaitlin Race and Anne Van Leeuwen—everyone firing on all cylinders here!—have crafted two honest, funny and unnerving plays with a single script. Race and Van Leeuwen alternate roles for this run, but rather than going through each other’s motions in a simple swap, two distinct tracks have been built through a multitude of evocative little choices.
You can’t go wrong with either version; Race and Van Leeuwen give sharp, honest and urgent character studies in each. If you can, though, I highly recommend seeing both because the juxtaposition intensifies so many of Albert’s themes. The specific ebb and flow of intimidation, superiority, deference, fear and heartbreak is unique to each rendition—allowing new insights to take shape.
These women are so real to me. I think it will be a common experience to relate more closely to one than the other (I certainly did), but you can’t dismiss either, regardless how much they may endear, enrage or frighten you. Witnessing this social disaster, we must acknowledge how any number of random decisions we’ve made throughout our lives could push us closer to either Joy or Liz, goading us to reflect on our circumstances and how we’ve built them.
With a scenario that is both utterly mundane and absolutely unhinged, this vice-grip of a play takes us to an abject human place that could be anywhere.



