In Intrepid Theatre, which is so tiny and intimate that the audience feels like part of the action, three women occupy a room, sometimes at once and other times alone. The play is Blind Portrait, featuring three women, and three thirds of a single mind tangled up in an inner conflict with herself. These three different personas struggle for control of the character’s mind, as she questions herself and the world around her.
The play—which I saw on Friday, March 10, its last night—features a wonderfully woven set of interactions between the woman’s different personas. One of them, for example, frets with anxiety and introspection, while the other, bold and candid, is unafraid to express herself openly.
Plagued by eerie spiders and other vivid hallucinations, the performance features a soundtrack embedded with rain and thunder; as a result, an air of melancholy hangs in the theatre as the actors deliver an impressive, heart-throbbing performance. A confining wall of rain is the cage that encloses them, with a ghoulish flaming staircase standing between them and possible salvation.
For the most part, the performance is exceptional; however, the tight space in the venue is sort of a double-edged sword. It draws the audience closer in to the world being presented on stage, but at the same time it may induce a feeling of claustrophobia for some audience members. Regardless, the small chamber serves its purpose of immersing the audience in the atmosphere of the show.
The writing is poetic, the performances are passionate, and the concept is unique; this is an all-around enjoyable experience. Although sprinkled with bits of charming humour, the best way to describe Blind Portrait is to call it a psychological thriller, a complex tale of inner struggles, despair, and triumph.