The Candidate by Steven Glyde places itself in a postmodern political world – one devoid of both context and content, where winning an election is not about having the best policies or values or goals, but rather is about giving the best speeches and most ‘authentic’ Instagram lives. This most sacred of spheres (democracy) has been commercialised, fractured through our phone screens, sandwiched between make-up tutorials and cat videos. This show lives inside that absurdity.
The lights go up on our two main characters, Annie and Steven. There’s not much we know about them (and we’ll only learn snippets as the show continues) other than that they are friends, Annie is 17 and now running for President of the nebulous nation, Steven has taken the role of campaign manager, and both love winning. Why does Annie want to be President? Seemingly no reason. What are her policies? Whatever makes her stand out. This piece takes us on a strange journey through the Presidential campaign, down a road that our characters didn’t exactly choose, that they seem oddly addicted to, and that they must continue down no matter what.
The experience is carried by the excellent performances of Steven Glyde and Annie Duynhoven who, under direction from Cherie Moore, expertly bring to life the humour and spunk of Glyde’s script.
I do wish, however, that the technical elements had been used more – the lighting and sound, when used, really added to the absurd atmosphere, and I think this could have been amped up to firmly place us in the absurd space from the get-go, to help further the ideas in the script, and manage some of the awkward scene transitions. But this was perhaps a limitation of the space, as Pitt Street Theatre (Basement) doesn’t have a built-in lighting rig.
The Candidate seems to be a show that says something while saying nothing – it gestures at themes of power, control, anxiety, and friendship but leaves me wondering what point it’s trying to make. And perhaps the point is exactly that; playing the game of politics is, indeed, about saying something while saying nothing, gesturing at promises vague enough to appeal to any demographic. It is about power and control for their own sake. Our characters are teenagers, play-acting as politicians, yet are not so different from our real-life political figureheads. The characters have the same names as their actors, suggesting at the artifice of the whole thing and blurring the lines between fact and fiction, as can be done so easily in our ‘fake news’, ‘deep fake’ world.
But I also see a kind of Millennial experience reflected in the show. One where you decide on a goal for no tangible reason other than that a goal is something you’re supposed to have; achievement is something you’re supposed to do. Not only, then, do you try your absolute hardest to achieve this goal, but you make it your whole being, your whole identity. Annie suffers nervous breakdowns and tries to convince herself that Tic Tacs are anxiety medication. And this is what our individualist, hustle culture seems to try to make us. We search blindly for fame, fortune and power because…we want those things, I guess? But this quest only serves to disconnect us from any true meaning in our lives. Indeed, Annie and Steven’s friendship is ultimately lost. Or perhaps it never really was? Like everything else in the show, it is ultimately exposed as hollow.
The Candidate is an exciting new work that takes its audience on a hilarious and unique journey. There is a lot to unpack from this show, and I think it would benefit from further development – perhaps a stronger focus and more artistic flare. But Glyde has landed on solid ground with his first script that is packed full of witty one-liners and sharp dialogue, and that holds up a mirror to our culture, refracting back all the broken pieces.
By Erin O’Flaherty
The Candidate plays at Pitt Street Theatre (Basement) until June 11 2022.
Photograph by Megan Goldsman