Sargent & Victor & Me

This is another required assignment for my journalism class. Stop by next week, I have something special planned. (It may or may not involve head spins. Okay, yeah it does, there will be head spins.)

On Tuesday I saw Sargent & Victor & Me at the Asper Centre for Theatre and Film. It’s a one woman play—but at times doesn’t seem like it. Debbie Patterson, the performer and playwright, interviewed people living in the area of Sargent and Victor. She uses their words and mannerisms to tell the story of a crumbling neighbourhood.

Patterson has multiple sclerosis, and she developed a character named Gillian, who also has MS. Gillian is the ‘me’ of the play.

The set was designed to look like a food bank. In a circle around the edge of the stage, were seven tables, with chairs, and in the middle of those tables was a circle of laundry baskets filled with food. Patterson moved around the set, leaning and sitting at different tables.

What works in this play?

Theresa—well, Patterson as Theresa. Patterson listened to her audio recording of Theresa over and over to mimic her sniffs, laugh, and voice convincingly.

Theresa is 15 year old member of the Crips. She talks about huffing gas with her mother—the first time was when she was eight—being beaten and raped, drug addiction, and prostitution.     

This juxtaposed with the comedic relief, which was mostly delivered by Gillian’s brother Bob. “It was 4 a.m., so of course I was drunk.” Bob is Patterson’s brother in real life.

I think the food bank was a great setting, it showed the neighbourhood as one that needs help, but it also shows people are trying to fix it. It provided a reason for the food baskets, which grew along with the story.

What does not work?

I liked this play because it wasn’t too theatrical—it was believable, and not over-acted.

Gillian had beautiful raw moments that showed loss and fear, acceptance and the power that comes along with that. She made the exhaustion and anger of living with MS understandable, relatable, I felt her loss.

Sometimes I didn’t find the things Gillian said believable though. (Probably because she is partially fictional.)

Sometimes the writing wasn’t realistic. She explained the taste of something as, “sunshine sweetness.” Maybe this is my own hang ups—or because I wouldn’t say it, but something about the sing song voice it was delivered in stopped me from suspending disbelief. There were other things Gillian said that were too theatrical to be believable.

I know others thought it was beautiful, but I did not like the movements that Patterson did while the radio reports were playing. They didn’t seem to match the rest of the play.

How does Sargent & Victor & Me compare to another play you have seen?

This play accomplished so much with a minimal set; I'd like to compare it to Wicked. They are not similar in the slightest, but I don’t have a lot of theatre experience.

Wicked had multiple backdrop and costume changes, it was spectacular, and over the top.

Yet Sargent & Victor & Me affected me on a personal level. The set wasn’t extravagant, and that worked for it. It was believably minimal, it looked like it could be a food bank.

Wicked had a huge budget, and catchy songs which made me prefer it based on entertainment value, but the personal, intimate nature of S &V & M made me think critically.

I’ll be thinking about the key messages of Sargent & Victor & Me a lot longer than ‘Defying Gravity’ will be stuck in my head.

How did attending this play affect you?  

It made me rethink my stance on disliking plays—I might have made a rash decision.

In the talkback session after the play, Patterson explained that Theresa wanted to tell her story (after she trusted her). I like that, I felt inspired to interview more people, tell more stories, which just terrifies me.

The thought of approaching someone I don’t know, and trying to talk to them is paralyzing—but I do it, and I’ll be doing it a lot more. I can look back to moments from the play as inspiration, when stories are told well it’s beautiful.