The end of adolescence and the terrors of adulthood are the fuel that starts the fire of Stephen Karam's clever drama Speech and Debate. Thankfully, that fire is on fine display in the AURA/AUI production currently running at Cite des Arts, and it's a fire you won't want to miss.
The play opens in an online chat room, where an 18-year old student named Howie is being propositioned by a 36-year old man. That man turns out to be a teacher at Howie's school, and the conversation ends.
Also on the trail of this teacher and his alleged misdeeds with students are Solomon, a deadly serious young man with journalistic aspirations, and Diwata, a theatre geek with huge theatrical aspirations and not much on her resume. Fate – in the form of their school's newly-formed speech and debate club – brings them together, and the three form a possibly malevolent alliance to expose and bring down the teacher.
While the trio's plotting and planning form the narrative backbone of the play, Karam is really exploring a tricker, murkier emotional terrain: the dangerous and painful last stretch of adolescence. The three are all still resolutely children – their dialogue is filled with hilariously goofy asides and inane arguments that seem completely logical when you're a teenager – but they're all peering over the cliff into adulthood, one that they all seem acutely aware is filled with danger, difficulty and potential disappointments.
It sounds like serious stuff. But more often than not, Karam's play is laugh-out-loud funny, bubbling over with witty exchanges, clever jokes and a few instances of some terrifically awful/hilarious musical numbers. The play is relentlessly entertaining, and that's its greatest trick. You're laughing, but soon the play's darker notes have seeped into your soul.
Navigating the waters of Speech and Debate are four young local actors, and they all acquit themselves nicely. As Diwata, Adele-Catherine Comeaux finds a lovely balance between warmth and weirdness, capturing beautifully the awkwardness and desperation of a girl clamoring for acceptance. Comeaux lends her Diwata a girlishness
that plays nicely against the more sinister parts of her character's psyche, and she's charming as hell in her musical moments. Topher Daniel makes a confident Solomon, bringing a nervous earnestness to his early scenes that strips away nicely into vulnerability in his later scenes. And Rachel Silliman-Smith does very nice work as the
show's various adults – particularly as the slightly aloof reporter who turns out to be less altruistic than she first seems.
But the show's most impressive performance comes from Nathanel Trahan as Howie. Trahan brings an affecting vulnerability to Howie, hitting the loveliest notes when Howie is feeling backed into a corner. You sense that Trahan's Howie is still trying to figure out how to live comfortably in his own skin, and his journey through the world of Speech and Debate is the one that resonates most powerfully. Trahan creates a Howie that's truly living in that in-between world of childhood and adulthood, and it's the performance that feels most uncomfortably real.
Director Walter Brown has done a lovely job balancing the show's comic and serious elements, and he's directed the proceedings at a breakneck pace, which serves the material beautifully. There's no overwrought playing or ponderous moments here, and thankfully so. The show feels honest, muscular and real.
There are no pat, convenient resolutions at the end of Speech and Debate, and that's a good thing. Can any of us really say we've completely resolved the terrors and insecurities that plagued us in high school? Howie, Diwata and Solomon are still peering over that cliff, and not even they're sure they'll survive the eventual fall unscathed. But they seem okay with it. And so do we.
What we're left with at the end of the play is a hopeful note of optimism tinged with just a shadow of doubt.
Just like life, really. Which makes Speech and Debate worth checking out.
---Cody Daigle
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