A gripping portrayal of misery
Tom at the Farm
(out of 4) By Michel Marc Bouchard. Translated by Linda Gaboriau. Directed by Eda Holmes. Until May 10 at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, 12 Alexander St. buddiesinbadtimes.com or 416-975-8555
What’s immediately gripping about Michel Marc Bouchard’s play Tom at the Farm, receiving its English language debut at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, is its portrayal of all-consuming grief.
It’s devastatingly understandable when bereft Montreal urbanite Tom (Jeff Lillico) visits the rustic family farm of his recently deceased boyfriend, despite having to describe himself as a “co-worker” to the man’s homophobic mother and brother. And despite an increasingly unhealthy, uncomfortable and very dangerous environment, he finds himself unable to leave.
What’s chilling is Bouchard’s imagining of what happens to three people when their grief is stalled by something as toxic as homophobia and turns into something far more sinister.
In Bouchard’s poetic language, Lillico plays Tom as a modern romantic who can describe a flickering light and subpar flute playing at a country memorial with stunning clarity.
The audience gets to hear this voice through his spoken internal mono- logue, but that is stifled in front of the devout Christian Agathe (Rosemary Dunsmore), who isn’t aware of her son’s homosexuality, and the violently intimidating Francis (Jeff Irving), who knows his brother’s secret but wants to keep his mother happy.
Soon, Tom is entangled in the family’s dark history, doing work on the farm and developing dynamics with these two strangers that are complex and twisted.
The longer he’s at the farm, the more his clothes, manners, behaviour and speech patterns change, and his body shows more physical pain. Tom is known at his ad firm as “Mr. Synonym,” but his description of birthing a calf as “so cool,” as he limps and gingerly holds his broken wrists, is at once funny and disturbing.
“Mr. Synonym” itself is a telling moniker as new relationships emerge between Agathe, Tom and Francis. They all evolve into synonyms for their lost son, brother and lover, or as Tom describes it, “the thing that’s like the thing but not the thing.” Horror fans will notice the added creep factor of the simulacra.
The trio of Lillico, Irving and Dunsmore fit well in Bouchard’s typical Canadian gothic environment, but humour plays an important part when Christine Horne blazes onto the stage as Sara, Tom’s stylist colleague tasked with playing the part of the deceased’s fictional Frenchspeaking girlfriend.
Her broken translations and brutal accent offer some much-appreciated comic relief, as well as acting as an outside eye, confirming how messed up this new “family” is. You’re laughing but feel bad about laughing, which is exactly what happens after a death.
Camellia Koo’s gloomy grey set blends a house, a barn, a cornfield and a pit of cow carcasses (yes, really) with vertical boards that could double as prison cell bars. But the real prisoner isn’t Tom, it’s Francis, confined to the farm because of a violent past and dedication to his mother.
Without the theatrical tool of an internal monologue, Francis is by far the most enigmatic character and Irving steals the show as a man with deep layers of confusion, sexual repression and anguish below the surface.
While Lillico’s Tom never taps into the character’s anger or strength, Francis’s tragedy is how easily he slips from vulnerability into guarded defence.
Tom at the Farm is also known for the 2013 Xavier Dolan film version, but this is quite different in tone, character and especially the ending. Though the farm poses a threatening space for Tom, the stage is a natural place for this story.
Audiences have been waiting three years to see it after it was pulled from Factory Theatre’s boycotted 2012 season and we can say it was worth the wait.