The multi-talented team of Mike Payette and Mathieu Perron, who interchangeably wear the hats of producer/director/actor with equal aplomb for their Tableau D’Hôte theatre company, bring us another compelling Canadian play: the Montréal première of A Line in The Sand by Guillermo Verdecchia and Marcus Yussef.

This time Payette wears the director’s hat, while Perron plays producer. The play is set in the desert sands of Qatar in the Persian Gulf, during Operation Desert Shield. (Where do military commanders drum up these Muzac titles?)

Verdecchia, an Argentinean-born playwright, frequently collaborates with others, and has done so previously with the Montréal playwright Marcus Yussef on Ali and Ali among others, never limiting himself to plays that reflect Latin-American concerns. Verdecchia and Yussef are always exploring how to create “a mental geography, which crosses racial and national borders” – well ahead, it may be added, of the Obama mood of reaching out and understanding each other’s needs. However, not only does Tableau D’Hôte’s new production build on a timely sentiment, it also hits on a timely raw nerve.

The heady optimism of that first invasion into the Middle East contained for Canadians in particular a painful jolt to the collective conscience when a group of our soldiers tortured a teenaged boy to death. After the Canadian government had repeatedly stated that their military was out there for diplomatic purposes only, the viciousness of this attack left Canadians bewildered and appalled. Now, after the sick revelations of Abu Gharaib (luckily Canadians feel they can blame that one on those gung ho Americans), the central theme of A Line In The Sand has become even more relevant: when a bunch of soldiers from a country with seemingly unlimited power and all the goodies that are coveted the world over are dumped into an alien territory, amidst a population who speak a different language, have different customs, feel the daily gnaw of hunger in their bellies and can barely scrabble a living, what bewilderment , misunderstandings, fears and resentments arise on both sides?

A desert landscape created out of an imaginative use of the simplest means – a pile of sweaters on the ground and two ramps – show how set designer Lara Kaluza evokes immediately the arid yet haunting desert into which the young Canadian soldier, Mercer, has been sent. Mercer, we learn, comes from Vancouver, one of the most varied, lush landscapes of Canada. He is bothered by the heat and monotony, and is quick to point his rifle at the Arab teenager, who stumbles blithely onto the scene with black market ‘stuff’ to sell. Sadiq isn’t even an Arab but a Palestinian who has somehow, in the confusion of Middle Eastern conflicts, arrived in this place to sell what his Egyptian boss knows the foreign soldiers like – porn images.

Mercer does like. In fact the notion of an endless supply of porn animates Mercer enough to arrange a series of encounters with Sadiq. Yet Mercer (short for mercenary?), in a subtle interpretation by Mike Hughes, doesn’t come across so much a pervert as a naïve emotional cripple with little in the way of investment towards anything or anyone.

Sadiq, in a stunning performance by Glenda Braganza that never for a moment falters in being a teenage boy, is the opposite of the Canadian. Sadiq displays a range of moods as quick as summer lightning: unguarded in his childish fantasies of American cars, movie stars, dollars stuffing his pockets in Kansas, where he plans to join an uncle, yet with cunning street smarts when driving a bargain; but demonstrating a relaxed fearless camaraderie that always incites hostility in the edgy Mercer, especially whenever Sadiq forgets who holds the power in this tentative friendship by coming close to him.

Sadiq, too, can turn sombre if he thinks ‘Vancouver’, as he has nicknamed Mercer, humiliated him. He threatens to stop the supply of porn. This possibility of losing the one thing that brings him to life upsets Mercer who reaches out, confessing to Sadiq how nothing matters to him. Even the death of his mentally ill mother never really affected him. Sadiq, who has also lost his mother to death, can only murmur in bewilderment, “But your mother… your mother….”

Payette has used dance to dramatic effect in other productions and does so here, releasing the emotional intensity that Mercer can’t express. Choreographer Véronique Gaudreau has devised a powerful surrealistic sequence where Mercer at first struggles and then is wrapped in a blinding sandstorm that evolves into an army tent, where the Colonel is conducting an interrogation into the brutal death of a young man.

Payette hasn’t emphasised the drama of this scene. Rather Chip Chuipka, as the Colonel, questions Mercer in a conversational tone, coaxing him to give a reasonable explanation for the role he has played. Mercer’s emotional paralysis has resulted in paralysis of his tongue and he stammers helplessly. Chuipka’s Colonel is a weary battle veteran who believes he has honourably performed his duties to his country and has one more duty – to extricate Mercer from a death sentence. The army these days is shit, the whole world is shit. He can understand. When Mercer, breaking down, describes the endless heat, the heat that got inside you, the heat that precipitated muddled actions, the whole audience, including rows of cadets from the Royal Military Academy, was profoundly moved.

A startling vision from the other-world, Sadiq appears, waving, delighted. He has gone not to Kansas but to Sudbury where it isn’t as exciting as America. But he likes Tim Horton, he likes donuts. He misses the sun, but is happy. He feels no bitterness. Does he exonerate Mercer?

We next see Mercer speaking on the phone. To a girl: he’s had a bit of trouble, but he’s dealing with it. Is he released from his demons? Or will what happened in the desert, the moment when he knew truth, remain shut away forever?

Robert Denton, the skilled sound designer, Noémie Poulin, designer of the evocative lighting and costumes, Jody Burkholder, who kept the technical side moving flawlessly, all the other assistants, helped everything come together.
Mike Payette and Mat Perron have kept their childhood promise: to form a company devoted to bringing Canadian playwrights to local audiences, using local talents.

Tableau d’Hôte’s A Line in the Sand continues through March 21 at the Segal Centre, 5170 Côte Ste. Catherine Rd. Tickets: 514-848-9696. For more details, visit the Tableau d’Hôte site.