Jason is an English superstar on the football field. Spectacularly talented, he has an unquestionable dedication to his sport. The fame and fortune bestowed upon him are completely beyond reason. In playwright John Donnelly’s The Pass, Jason's resulting excesses come at a high price, one that is disproportionate to the game he plays. The story is ultimately about human dignity, and how individuals in these modern times can so easily and unknowingly find their souls peddled off to the highest bidder.
We understand that to make a living requires a certain amount of sacrifice. For the vast majority, trading labour and skill are the only ways to secure money to pay off bills. As part of that exchange, we think it reasonable to concede to things like codes of behaviour and clothing, to company and professional culture. It is a relentless commodification of our minutes and days that slowly erodes idiosyncrasies, and sometimes humanity, in service of an economic system with dubious priorities.
Leading man Ben Chapple gives a rhapsodic performance as the very lost Jason with an enjoyable intensity that makes him a compelling watch in this new staging at the Seymour Centre under the Mardi Gras banner. Here it is his sexuality that suffers the worst. It's a process of dehumanisation that accompanies what he perceives to be the pursuit of success. As he becomes increasingly famous, he has to sublimate everything personal that might contradict an idolised footballer's image. To play the part of an invulnerable straight white male, he pushes away his sexual attraction to men. He gives up on his relationship with his Black best friend Ade and hides in hotel rooms, drowning his sorrows in drugs and alcohol. To be a lean, mean money-making machine, Jason continually finds himself at breaking points, unable to retreat or reform, enduring the anguish he justifies.
Donnelly's writing is a powerfully observed piece on what may be termed advanced capitalism and its devastating effects on a person's nature. The protagonist's fear of his sexuality is juxtaposed against conventional parameters of success. The play offers a meaningful perspective into one of the ways money can turn into a destructive force in each of our lives. This theatrical cautionary tale is directed effectively by Ed Wightman. He brings purposeful attention to central themes of The Pass: whiteness, heteronormativity and misogyny, all of which are usually invisible, due to their insidiously mundane prevalence.
Chapple’s robust energy is memorable, but a greater exploration of nuances would allow audiences a richer appreciation of the text. Cassie Howarth is gloriously sassy and remarkably intricate in her portrayal of Lyndsey, an adult entertainer, bringing valuable depth to a production that can sometimes gloss over less dramatic but nonetheless important portions of dialogue. Jason's intimate confidante Ade is played by Deng Deng, a likeable and sensitive, if slightly too introspective performer. The very comical Tom Rodgers brings to life a young hotel attendant Harry, raucous and genuinely funny, but whose poor execution of a transphobic joke leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
Set design by Hamish Elliot delivers a series of convincingly swish hotel rooms in a resolutely cool palette, communicating the detachedness with which Jason regards his existence. Matt Cox’s lighting design helps us navigate Jason's moods as we watch him go through a gamut of volatile emotional states. Gay pop star Ricky Martin's 1998 hit She Bangs, now resonant for its connotations of closeted sexuality, is featured throughout, in a sound design by Daryl Wallace.
In dealing with the downfall of a sporting hero, The Pass presents an opportunity to talk about ubiquitous power structures that benefit few, yet are upheld by virtually everyone. We can focus the story to talk about white supremacy and racism, misogyny and the patriarchy, homophobia and transphobia, ableism, poverty, etc. But that requires us to acknowledge that the way we rally around heroes, sporting or otherwise, is symptomatic of the problems we suffer. It's a fascinaing show in this regard. It seems to be a natural impulse for us to create gods out of humans, but once systems of hierarchies are manufactured, it is always easy to forget those at the bottom rungs. It is only logical to submit to the fact that any disadvantage is inherently abhorrent, but we seem incapable of giving up our false idols. Even if the gods themselves would be better off taking a step down from their pedestals...
