Robert Trowbridge and his daughter Taylor Trowbridge | Photo by Judy Trowbridge
Presented by Found Objects Theatre
Taylor Trowbridge’s solo show about Dads isn’t really a solo show at all. She has a guest comic (Nikki Bon, from 2% of Condoms, at the performance I attended) do a “dad set.” And then there is all of us there with her. It’s not a high pressure interactive show, for those of you whose social anxiety is easily triggered, just raising your hand or offering anecdotes or, if you are especially easy going, some voice acting. And if you want to just sit in perfect obscurity, that’s an option too.
As she tells us at the top, each performance is a unique one about our specific collection of dads—biological or not, still living or lost, estranged or present, beloved or reviled. Pretty much everyone is included and Trowbridge has structured the show to allow for a decently full-bodied sense of the many dads brought into the space.
Most of the show is upbeat and playful with some games to keep us warmed to the room. Her opening spiel has a subtly lyrical quality, the slightest whiff Dr. Seuss in her giddy little tribute to the many varied dad vibes that permeate our shared consciousness. Beneath a deceptive breeziness, she’s purposeful and attentive, reading the room, making each of us feel seen. This palpable awareness grounds her and invites us into this intimate, vulnerable, celebratory realm.
The hint of gravitas in her delivery primes us for when the show gets heavier. Having lost her father only a few years ago, that emotive tension hangs in the air. Her loss coincides with my own, having said a final farewell to my own father the very same year. Though Trowbridge and I never directly interacted during the show, it still felt as if a bond had been formed. I imagine many in attendance had a similar experience. That’s the magic of this show and the atmosphere she creates.
So much of this has been about the emotive vibes, so I’d like to show a little love for the solid theatrical craft here. This is very much a family venture. Brother Dylan Trowbridge directs and sister Harmony Trowbridge has provided original music elements credited as “vocal tones,” both of whom contribute greatly to the overall mood and momentum of this understated piece. The sound (Erik Richards) and lighting (Chin Palipane), without drawing attention to themselves, conspire at key moments to vaguely suggest a haunting force in the space with us. A slight flickering here, an ever-so-eerie chord over there—these hint at an ominous yet decidedly comforting…signal? consciousness? omen?
There are two notable bits of business whose inclusion I think could simply be meant to establish naturalistic ambiance, but which I interpreted as meaningful. Twice, Trowbridge picks up a drink. The first appears to be scotch, which she sips at, then abandons, and the second seems to be a glass of white wine. Since she so often asks us to unpack our own qualities in relation to our dads’, are these distinct tastes and styles of alcohol symbolic of this process?
I was grateful to be given a small glimpse into the man her father was, as well as peeks at an array of strangers’ dads, and, ultimately, to be reminded of my own. Remembering and sharing, as trite and corny as that might sound, is the essence and potency of Dads.
