Strong sibling rivalry equals revealing theatre
The Best Brothers show us all we should strive for a dog’s life
Enzo is a dog who makes his presence felt. He destroys a $250,000 kitchen. He attends to female dogs with joyous enthusiasm. He teaches, through sheer dint of being a canine, his human owners much about clarity, simplicity, open-heartedness.
Thing is, we never see this Italian greyhound. But then Daniel MacIvor’s The Best Brothers, in a rewarding and lucid production at GCTC, is, in part, about what we don’t see but are still deeply affected by: our perceptions of ourselves and others, our loneliness, even our family members when they’re not around.
MacIvor’s warm, funny twohander is rooted in sibling relationships in times of stress, in this case the brothers Best, who come together when their mother Bunny dies.
Suit-and-tie-wearing Hamilton (John Ng) is the elder brother. An architect who knows more about designing the world than living in it, he speaks in perpetually clamped-down fashion, as though words, which if let off their leash could lead to the articulation of deeper things, are the enemy.
Kyle (Andy Massingham) is the younger sibling. Flamboyant and wiser than his big bro, Kyle is a real estate agent who goes with the flow: “Things just happen,” he says at one point. He’s gay with a sex worker boyfriend, but MacIvor (and Massingham) undercuts our television-induced expectations on that score by eschewing easy-laugh stereotypes in favour of just making his sexual orientation part of Kyle’s identity.
That identity, believes Hamilton, caused their mother’s death. A spectator at a Pride Parade, she was crushed when a bulky drag queen named Pina Colada toppled off a float onto the everadventurous but slight Bunny.
Hamilton is not amused by how she died, but Kyle finds it appropriate to their mother’s wry view of life (we learn something of her, and therefore of her sons, when Kyle and Hamilton take turns donning a set of women’s gloves to become, briefly, Bunny).
The brothers disagree on not just the style of Bunny’s demise but pretty much everything to do with giving her the right sendoff. That leads to very funny moments, including a priceless eulogy scene.
It also leads to the gradual layering of the brothers. Hamilton, we learn, is in the midst of a dissolving marriage (his wife Jewels is one of those absent characters who exerts a presence in the play; you empathize with her for being married to Mr. Always Right). Hamilton, we also learn, never had the relationship with his mother that he wanted.
Kyle, in a finely textured performance by Massingham, is revealed as a man who, even if he does hustle for condo clients during his mother’s visitation, also has a tender streak a mile wide. Like his mother, he’s been battered a bit by life but is skilled at acceptance.
Enzo, who is occasionally addressed but never trots on to the stage, is the third Best brother. Adopted by Bunny, he unwittingly inserts himself into the lives of Hamilton and Kyle when his owner dies and the question becomes, who gets the dog?
As Enzo’s fate is decided, the greyhound, pure of heart and rooted in the moment like any dog, inadvertently teaches his two human brothers much about living well.
He’s also the audience for the play’s one misstep: a forced metaphor involving Hamilton and Lego.
The play’s concerns include the search for clarity in life, and director Eric Coates gives this production the clean, fluid guidance which that concern demands.
That’s echoed in Roger Schultz’s set, a simple symmetrical structure in an asymmetrical world that serves as a condo, a funeral parlour and a park. Jock Munro’s lighting tracks the play’s internal and external transitions in warm fashion.
In the end, maybe it is a dog’s life. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
Continues until March 29. Tickets: 613-236-5196, gctc.ca