The Martlet

On the Edge, a play that has its world premiere at the Belfry Theatre this month, points a huge spotlight on what it means to be a middle-class woman in North America — and what it means to be a man in a woman’s world. Written by Michele Riml and directed by Andrew McIlroy, the one-woman show is composed of three monologues starring the talented and tireless Susinn McFarlen.

The play opens with a bristly female voice heard through the speakers: “I invite you to . . .” Turn off your cell phones? Unwrap your hard candies? “. . . be here fully.” In a swirl of techno/Indian fusion music by sound director Noah Drew, the audience obeys the instruction to breathe in and out, as if seated in a yoga class. McFarlen struts out dramatically through a runway of flashing lights wearing Chanel sunglasses.

The first monologue portrays McFarlen as a fashion addict behind the podium at a recovery meeting. Within minutes, the entire audience is laughing; not that was a great pun laughter, but laughter born of genuine relaxation and enjoyment. The confidence of the character unravels as she reveals more about her shopping habit, and the façade of materialism becomes apparent. Riml notes in the program: “. . . it’s a search for something . . . but in the wrong direction.”

“Are you still breathing?” the voice over the speakers asks.

The second monologue features an overworked female cop interrogating an upper-class woman found drunk driving. At first the cop is critical, but then she recognizes her own weaknesses through the mistakes of the woman and realizes she is no better. McFarlen makes a complete physical and vocal leap from the first monologue. Playwright Riml spent time with an actual RCMP officer to authenticate the character.

Riml, the author of Sexy Laundry and Rage (both staged previously at the Belfry), exposes the complexity of her characters by cutting through their onion-like layers. Each monologue has its own plot arc. Moments of light-hearted energy are followed by the crumbling of characters’ outward appearances. This leaves the audience to re-identify the women revealed through their vulnerabilities.

The third monologue is set in a yoga studio. Now the voiceover makes sense. McFarlen’s comedic timing is seamless as her character, a 40-something-year-old woman experiencing her first yoga classes. The farce of spirituality shows through the monologue as the character slips into her consciousness during the shavasana pose and engages in a fist fight with her “higher being.”

Set designer Kevin McAllister transforms a modern, white stage into three vastly different sets for each monologue with the help of lighting designer Bryan Kenney, whose dramatic light show steers the mood and heart rates of the audience.

On the Edge captures what it takes to push three women to the edge of North American society. It also identifies the material or extraneous “stuff” that could be discarded or tossed over the edge to make room for real life. By the time a tearful and beaming McFarlen took her bow, audience members had to ask themselves: Do I have what it takes to live on the edge?