THE WAY BACK TO THURSDAY by Rob Kempson (Theatre Passe Muraille, 16 Ryerson). Runs to February 8. Pwyc-$32.50. 416-504-7529. See listings. Rating: NNNN
Remember that pop tune that goes “you always hurt the one you love?”
It’s the emotional through line of Rob Kempson’s engaging song cycle The Way Back To Thursday, a journey through some 30 years of memories for Cameron (Kempson), a gay man whose coming out isn’t complete until he opens up to the person closest to him, Grandma (Astrid Van Wieren).
Given a simple but effective staging by director Briana Brown, the show blends moments of subtle comedy with poignant episodes that reveal the love between the pair. Kempson’s music – orchestrated and music-directed by Scott Christian, who performs on piano with Samuel Bisson on cello – constantly changes style and emotion, with a frequent pop feel to the melodies. The writer knows how to play cleverly with lyrics, too, subtly shifting words to give lines a rich meaning.
Shaped as a memory play, Thursday begins with Cameron in Vancouver, a filmmaker who’s just broken up with his boyfriend and wondering how his aging grandmother in Toronto is doing. We then travel back through the years, beginning with Grandma singing a touching, hopeful lullaby to the just-born Cameron.
Their main connection as Cameron gets older are their Thursday film nights, where they both idolize the dashing, charming Rock Hudson Gran keeps saying how much Cameron is like the film star. Only when Cameron Googles Hudson for a class project does he realize that actor’s gay…and does that mean that Cameron is, too?
Angst follows, as Cameron struggles and then comes out to his parents – his mother cries, his father laughs (in disbelief?) – but just can’t tell his grandmother. Instead, Cameron heads west to study film and live a life hidden from the older woman. His fear cuts him off, in several senses, from his heart, and the result is pain for both.
Despite the show’s strengths, there are moments in their lives that could be expanded, and figures – like Cameron’s father and lover – who could be more fleshed out.
Kempson makes a believable, effervescent child as well as a moody teen and later a young adult who doesn’t fit into Vancouver’s gay scene, with its buff, Lycra-encased bodies.
Van Wieren gives heart and style to every one of her songs, from that gentle lullaby to rocking numbers in which she proves her chops and show-business flair. Even as she becomes frail and occasionally angry, this Gran can bring down the house.
Another plus is Beth Kates’s set and lighting. The stage is elevated, with flowing curtains at the back, so we look up at the action as though we’re watching a big-screen attraction in a 50s Hollywood palace half-visible headshots of stars sometimes appear behind the curtains. The film world that Cameron and Grandma love so much ties together a loving relationship, one that comes full circle by the end, despite its uncomfortable secrets and bumpy stretches.
That ending touches not only the audience but also the two performers. At the performance I saw, their eyes glistened as they took their curtain call.
