Stage Door Review

take rimbaud

Sunday, May 10, 2026

✭✭

by Susanna Fournier, directed by ted witzel

The Howland Company with Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, Toronto

May 7–May 23, 2026

R: “Until we catch fire, we burn, we escape”

In one of the early scenes of Susanna Fournier’s take rimbaud, the aspiring writer Sylv lashes out against shows that fail to provoke strong reactions – polished, polite pieces that stage socio-political agendas without unsettling the audience or pushing them into discomfort. “We are clapping for the idea of art”, the established poet Sapph replies, echoing her frustration.

That appetite for insubordination drives The Howland Company and Buddies in Bad Times Theatre’s new production. Developed by Fournier over 12 years, the script brings to the stage contemporary alter egos of four rebellious poets: Sappho, Arthur Rimbaud, Paul Verlaine and Sylvia Plath. The lowercase title reads like a note quickly jotted down as in “take rimbaud, for example". Rimbaud becomes the starting point for a larger story about artists drawn to rupture.

The plot is set between 2014 and 2026 — the same span over which Fournier developed the play — and follows three intertwined arcs: the turbulent love story between the fierce R (Thomas Mitchell Barnet) and the self-destructive Paul (Julian De Zotti), two indie filmmakers trying to make their art; the despair of Sapph (Rose Tuong), an accomplished poet trapped inside her own self-loathing; and the turmoil of Sylv (Ruth Goodwin), an emerging writer caught between artistic freedom and the stability promised by a possible “radical marriage” with Paul.

Ting-Huan 挺歡 Christine Urquhart’s intricate set suggests an artist’s cave: part studio, part apartment, part backstage. As the audience enters, the black garage door shuts behind us. Graffiti covers the floor, scaffolding frames the action and wooden crates and plastic drapery leave everything feeling provisional and precarious. That same precarity defines the characters — young artists trying to survive the instability their work demands. Relationships buckle, ambition curdles into self-doubt and suffering becomes the engine of creation.

Fournier’s sharp writing thrives on clashing viewpoints and contradictions. When R speaks of the need for new art, Paul insists that everything has already been made. When Sapph debates her manager, artistic integrity collides with the demands of marketing and self-promotion. But the writing’s force also lies in its rhythm. Alliteration and anaphora give the dialogue a musical charge, allowing repetition and beats to carry as much weight as argument.

That said, this ambitious production is uneven, and not all of its theatrical gambits land sharply. After an energized opening driven by strobe lights and a growling beat, the first scenes lose momentum, and it takes a while for the energy to build again. The script might benefit from sharper cuts, especially towards the end, when the actors, complete with period jackets and hats, retell the struggles involving the 19th-century Paris Commune. Though the sequence fits the play’s preoccupation with revolution, it feels tonally out of step with the rest of the production.

Yet the strongest moments rise above this unevenness, charged by the play’s layered arguments about art, rebellion and collective possibility. The direction of ted witzel [sic] gives the script’s boldest ideas physical force, turning the characters’ messiness into a kind of aesthetic release. Alcohol rains down during a drinking game, Cheetos are hurled onto the stage with bratty abandon and rave-like sequences filter intimate scenes through a live camera. Two vertical plywood platforms become temporary projection surfaces, catching close-ups and live feeds that broadcast private emotion through the machinery of art.

The ensemble roots the play in bodies under pressure, caught in a state of constant suspension. De Zotti gives Paul a sexual magnetism edged with unease, exposing his agonizing inability to make sense of things. Tuong’s Sapph is all cool, analytical intelligence: a figure who seems to have withdrawn from belief altogether. As Sylv, Goodwin embodies the frustration of someone desperate to feel recognized and seen. Finally, Mitchell Barnet gives R a bruised tenderness, his vulnerability propelled by a raging thirst for art, love and revolution. In him, heartbreak becomes the fuel of creation. He stays with the pain, trying to turn rupture into form.

Completing the picture are four unnamed figures played by Breton Lalama, Hallie Seline, Courtney Ch’ng Lancaster and Cameron Laurie. They act as stagehands, service characters, narrators and, finally, the collective voice of a manifesto. This is where the performance turns into a poem, gathering individual crises into a shared rhythm.

Through speeches on post-truth politics and a knot of contemporary anxieties, they attempt to name what they call “the story of now”. This assembly of voices eventually unites in song, harmonizing on the line, “The more we make together, the happier we’ll be”. It crystallizes one of the production’s deepest longings — connection as the only fertile ground for revolutionary art.

After almost two hours spent between restless rage and a pull toward transformation, take rimbaud ends with a pulsating heart – a pool of scarlet light trained on us, beating and receding. It is a fitting final image for a production that refuses closure. Fournier’s characters do not move past heartbreak so much as remain inside it, holding onto ache as proof that they are still alive, still burning, still trying to make something from the wound.

Alessandro Stracuzzi

Photos: The ensemble of take rimbaud; Julian De Zotti as Paul and Thomas Mitchell Barnet as R; Cameron Laurie (in background), Julian De Zotti as Paul, Ruth Godwinas Silv and Thomas Mitchell Barnet as R. © 2026 Wade Muir.

For tickets visit: buddiesinbadtimes.com.