Last night I was present for the opening night of The Last Epistle of Tightrope Time, a Tarragon/NAC presentation of the National Arts Centre/ Neptune Theatre co-production. The Last Epistle is a one-man show written and performed by Walter Borden, directed by Peter Hinton–Davis at Tarragon Theatre before an audience of sympathetic listeners.

As I drove home, I thought of my review of Canoe, where I approached the writeup with caution, concerned that I might give offense accidentally due to my ignorance leading to cultural insensitivity, as I wrote about Indigenous culture. I wanted to be just as cautious speaking of Borden’s griot sensibility, boldly telling us about the life of a gay black man. Sometimes he’s spiritual, sometimes he’s profane, drawing eruptions of laughter from this crowd.

I’m retreating to turf I know, namely opera, when I think about the dilemma we sometimes face between the artist or the text. Yes, Borden came to us in the virtuoso space employing his voice as his instrument to make a brilliant kind of music. The griot energy that has come down to us in rap and stand-up comedy, is sometimes exploited commercially. I feel Borden’s text has an authenticity to his multiple characterizations, even as I marvel at what he’s written, what he must have seen, even if we’re in a place of fiction. The Epistle is a series of episodes and meditations that hang together, a brilliant composition.

Some of that surely comes from the input of director Hinton-Davis and designers Andy Moro (set, costume, lighting and especially brilliant projections), Adrienne Danrich O’Neill (Sound Designer and Composer) and Wayne Hawthorne (associate sound designer), making this solo performance into an ensemble piece, not just from their multiple inputs but fragmenting Borden’s persona as he talks to himself, sometimes literally.

The first half hour I was trying to get a handle, and unable to forget that a one-man show is a lot of work. What a lot of lines, a lot of different characters, and Borden is not young. Once I relaxed into the enjoyment of Borden’s art, those multiple voices and his crystal clear diction, I was hooked. No, Borden is not a young man, reminding me of my own aches as I watched him sometimes trudging slowly, of other aching bodies I’ve seen recently. Theatre is a place for youth, for lithe young bodies, carpenters & builders making things, and stage managers to keep you honest even after everyone’s bleary-eyed & exhausted at rehearsal. I looked around at the young in the audience, among seniors like myself and remembered, oh of course, this was a portrayal, a piece of theatre. Perhaps he’s no longer going to do handsprings but the chemistry between our joyful response and his body language was glorious to see. And wow he was getting stronger and clearer as he went on, strutting proudly at the end.

The text is perhaps revised for this incarnation of a show that has seen multiple lives, new layers and new wrinkles that add to its charm. The depths Borden gave us were always poetic, ruminations sometimes ripping the cover off polite society in blunt language yet never lacking in dignity. The Epistle is sometimes like a declaration or manifesto, sometimes the rueful notes of someone who’s sharing their journey. There’s a lovely ebb and flow to what we see and hear, very musical and very safe.

We’re at times in a place of extraordinary vulnerability resembling a temple of the soul. But then again that’s theatre. Tarragon is a special place that privileges exploration, a sanctuary where one can truly take off all the covering layers to see what’s underneath.

The Last Epistle of Tightrope Time continues at Tarragon Theatre until October 15th. See it if you can.