Happy Place an intense, insightful play that speaks to powerful themes in the #MeToo era

Pamela Mala Sinha's play Happy Place premiered in 2015 — a couple of years before the #MeToo movement ignited, forcing an overdue examination of harassment, sexual assault and our propensity to just not believe women when they say something is wrong.

The play seems oddly prescient now, with its focus on seven women touched by trauma and mental health issues. All of them are trying to find a way to navigate their own lives and healing — and their relationships with each other — in a world that doesn't seem to understand them, know how to help them or even believe them at times.

In its Prairie Theatre Exchange production (a local debut for Sinha, an award-winning playwright living in Toronto who was born in Winnipeg), the somewhat ironically named Happy Place proves to be an intense and insightful exploration of human frailty — and how difficult we find it to respond to that.

Featuring a powerhouse cast of seven (mostly local performers, all turning in impressive performances), it tells the story of a group of women in an in-patient care facility. The multi-generational, multi-ethnic cast suggests that these seven women could be any woman.

It's not a particularly happy place on the surface — hence the hint of irony in the title. But there's a sincerity in it too, in that each of the characters here seems to be genuinely searching for that elusive "happy place."

Some have experienced trauma, including sexual assault, while others struggle with depression. In some cases, Sinha leaves their reasons for being in the facility somewhat ambiguous, frustrating our natural impulse to label people, but underscoring the point that it's the person — not their diagnosis — that should be our focus.

The central character is Samira (Darla Contois), a survivor of a brutal sexual assault who is still intent on finding the man who raped her, even as she tries to find a way to live with the aftermath of the assault.

But Happy Place isn't a whodunit or a play about being "cured" of trauma or mental illness — it's not much of a spoiler to say there are no pat "happily ever afters" for the characters here — nor is this a narrative-driven play (those searching for linear plot will be frustrated).

Rather, it's a play that explores, in a series of short scenes showing the interactions of the seven women, what it's like to be damaged and hurt, and the challenge that comes with fitting into the world when you have been.

Challenging but surprisingly funny

For its sombre subject matter, it is surprisingly funny at points ("You can't put a bunch of women together and have it not be funny," Sinha told CBC in an interview last year). Most of that humour comes from the characters — distinct and recognizable, though never caricaturish. 

There's Mildred (a delightfully crusty Megan McArton), easily annoyed but quick with a dirty joke; Nina (an achingly vulnerable Alicia Johnston), gentle and well-intentioned if indefinably odd; the combative and uptight Celine (Paula Potosky); and hyper-competitive Joyce (Jan Skene, a marvel of cheerful passive aggression).

They're joined by "new girl" Rosemary (Hazel Venzon), and brought together by the compassionate but cooly professional therapist, Louise (Daina Leitold, bringing impressive depth to what could be a one-note character).

Each woman has her own story. We discover them to varying degrees, in fits and starts — and while it never quite feels like we know any of them fully, it's a testament to Sinha's writing that we feel we recognize them.

In his local directorial debut, PTE's new artistic director, Thomas Morgan Jones, delivers a steady and assured production that lets the talent in the cast shine.

It is, though, perhaps a little too steady at times. It feels there are points here where a certain spark doesn't quite take, and some of the back-and-forth dialogue between the women seems like it should have a bit more snap to it.

And while she delivers some heart-wrenching moments, particularly in her therapy scenes with Louise, it sometimes feels Contois's take on Samira is perhaps a bit too understated.

It's hard, ultimately, to say audiences will leave Happy Place — a challenging piece of theatre — "happy," exactly.

But you might leave with the understanding that Sinha's characters seem to come to: perhaps happiness doesn't rest on perfection, and there may be a certain measure of it to be found in the small victories in the struggle.

Sometimes, maybe that's as happy a place as we can expect to find.

Happy Place runs at Prairie Theatre Exchange until Nov. 25.