THEATRE REVIEW: CRASH

Pictured: Pamela Mala Sinha

JOHN COULBOURN, Special to TorSun
07 OCT 2013
R: 5/5

TORONTO - Amongst a veritable bouquet of awards, Pamela Mala Sinha’s CRASH earned the playwright/performer Doras for both Best New Play and Best Actress last season. So, small wonder then that Theatre Passe Muraille’s increasingly savvy artistic director Andy McKim chose CRASH to inaugurate a new season in the company’s ‘intimate’ Backspace, where CRASH opened to a capacity audience.

Which gives a Toronto audience a second chance to get a first impression of Sinha’s finely crafted one-woman show, adapted from her own short story, Hiding, and to appreciate it for the little jewel it is — even while they try to figure out just what kind of jewel that might be, its diamond-hard edges framing both the depth and the warmth of a sapphire.

Unfolding on Kimberly Purtell’s multi-level set, impressive in its complex use of simple elements, CRASH is exquisitely directed by Alan Dilworth and expertly performed by the playwright, who, working in the third person, shares a harrowing story of a young girl, shattered by an horrific crime — she’s the victim of a vicious home invasion and rape — and a family tragedy — the death of her beloved father. Over time, these two cataclysmic events become inexplicably joined and set her on the road to redemption, as she finds triumph, not in revenge or mourning, but simply in picking up the threads of her family and her life.

The play starts simply, even happily, as Sinha unleashes joyous memories, establishing her character as part of a happy loving family, before introducing darker threads and weaving them into her tale until CRASH fairly shimmers with pain and desperation. Not until then do the playwright and her collaborators begin once again to highlight the brighter shades in the tapestry they have woven, finally creating a voyage both tragic and oddly joyous in its catharsis.

Fittingly, in a play in which both the pain and the power of family is so richly explored, Sinha includes amongst her impressive list of collaborators — Cameron Davis’ brilliantly unobtrusive projections and Purtell’s lighting design, worthy of her fine set — two other family members. The playwright’s mother Rubena, trained as an Indian classical dancer, joins forces with Monica Dottor and, as movement directors, they weave their magic seamlessly into the tale. Meanwhile, Sinha’s brother, Debashis, provides a finely-tuned sound design which helps to bind the entire package together. Best of all, despite the multi-media nature of the work, Dilworth ensures that every element serves the story without ever overshadowing it.

Finally, CRASH may not be a long play, clocking in at less that 90 minutes without intermission, but it is unquestionably a complete play — a voyage that lifts you up, takes you deep into the human experience to show you the world through someone else’s life and eyes, then sets you down in a better place than it found you, richer for the voyage you have shared. Kudos to McKim and TPM for giving us another place to CRASH.