The Good Of The Sun

Fringe Description: Naughty · Intellectual · Intimate

I applaud Good Theatre’s innovative use of sensory stimuli. “Smell-o-vision” has been waxed poetic about as a possibility in theatre and film, but this is the first production I have seen that actually turns the concept into a reality.

I sat in the “High Intensity Scent Zone” -- a section of the theatre comprising about a quarter of the seats was so marked -- but only noticed the aromatherapy when I specifically thought about it. The main note was mild citrus, or perhaps verbena, which changed to a rick dark liquorice-y scent when the tone of the play turned dark. I assume this was the intent of stage manager Ryan Caron’s design of the multisensory experience: subtle scents and changes of sensory stimuli influence one’s interpretation of the stimuli, but are so subtle as to be overlooked by the conscious mind.

The heat mentioned in the show’s blurb seemed to be absent. Either the heat lamp was malfunctioning, or as above, the changes were so subtle that I did not consciously notice them.

The Good of the Sun follows the changing dynamics of Max and Mary, a Caucasian couple who are on a retreat to the warmth of Mexico per doctor’s orders while Max recovers from some unnamed malady (possibly cancer or tuberculosis). He is restless, bored, grouchy -- she is sweet, complacent, duty-bound to her convalescent husband.

But Max’s response to the involvement of the local-born doctor, with whom the couple shares an ongoing platonic relationship, throws a wrench into their simple lifestyle. At first, Max is clearly the dominant (or rather, domineering) partner in the marriage -- he amuses himself by ridiculing his wife for her naïvety and virtuosity, ordering her about while talking endlessly about “my wife” this and “my wife” that. Frustrated by his own crippling illness and keen on experiencing all of life’s excitement and profanities, he encourages Mary to pursue employment and entertainment outside the home, but as she slips from his grasp and gains confidence and vitality, Max berates her for her presumed infidelities. Is he mindful of his own impotence and mortality and trying to secure her a future for after his passing? Or merely trying to live vicariously through her, while passive-aggressively trying to manipulate her and control her actions? He struggles to maintain the only hold he has left on her: love.

Betty Lambert’s The Good of the Sun premiered as a radio play in 1960. Lambert was clearly ahead of her time, as the issues presented in this play are still relevant and newsworthy given modern discussion of sexuality and relationship dynamics.

The references to 1950s Mexican social standards -- where responses to infidelity are strongly, violently gender-biased -- run a harsh parallel to Mary’s frustrated attempts to explore life and come fully into being. She seeks happiness, purpose, fulfillment -- but can these ever be realized while she is under the control of one so passive-aggressively manipulative?

The strengths of this version of the story lie in the subtle. The change in wafted aroma as the situation turns tense and dark. The shift in seating arrangements as the dynamic of the trio change. The amount of physical contact between Mary and her husband -- or Mary and the doctor. These are the details that make up the stories of our lives: not merely the words spoken or the actions taken, but the tilt of a head behind a turned back, the resting of a hand against an arm, the silence of words unspoken.

Abbotsford actor Jordan Schartner is dedicated and mindful of detail in his portrayal of ailing Max. Even during scene changes, he moves slowly, painfully, short-of-breath and prone to coughing fits. His shaved head and slumping shoulders emphasize the toll illness has taken on the character’s body. Unfortunately, Schartner is too wellbuilt to physically pass for someone of such constitution; I’d suggest he wear a baggier pair of slacks and avoid removing his shirt, as his actual physique is neither unhealthy nor gaunt.

By Susan Cormier