A potent and devastating story of love and addiction that is yet to find its emotional landing.
Set in 1980s Australia, Candy follows the tragic journey of a young, passionate couple whose lives and relationship deteriorates due to heroin addiction, exploring themes of substance abuse, turbulent love, and personal tragedy. At its heart, it’s a touching story of two people deeply in love yet ultimately torn apart, not just by external hardships, but by their own self-destructive battles. This story is brought into life by director Kate Elliott, showing at the White Bear theatre until June 14th.
The show’s greatest highlight lies in the outstanding performances of its two actors, Freya James (as Candy) and Ed McVey (as Dan). Through multi-roling, breaking the fourth wall, and physical storytelling, the duo demonstrates remarkable versatility with emotional depth. Freya James delivers brilliant moments as Candy, while her portrayal of the mother is equally memorable. Ed McVey transitions seamlessly between characters, fully embodying each one—his performance as Dan is electrifying and, ultimately, heartbreaking. The chemistry between the two actors is undeniable.
Laure Bachelot and Alexandria McCauley’s movement direction is another highlight. The choreography not only advances the narrative but also clearly captures the couple’s emotional turmoil. The movements depicting heroin use are particularly powerful—expressed with both precision and poeticism.
However, these strengths are undermined by the fragmented storytelling and sparse technical elements. The story, adapted from Candy: A Novel of Love and Addiction, unfolds through a mix of movement, dialogue, and narration. While the movement and dialogue offer compelling glimpses into the couple’s life, the narration often feels like a mere plot device. Though breaking the fourth wall could have deepened the audience’s connection to the characters’ inner worlds, the narration instead disrupts the flow, merely filling narrative gaps rather than enriching the storytelling.
The decision to have only two actors multi-role also weakens immersion. While James and McVey skillfully embody multiple characters, the frequent shifts create a barrier for the audience. Instead of deepening engagement, the multi-roling often pulls focus from the central relationship, leaving the audience to piece together fragmented dialogues rather than becoming fully invested in the couple’s journey. As a result, key turning points feel unearned, and high-stakes moments lose their grippingness.
The minimalist set—comprising two rehearsal boxes, sheer curtains, and a neon light—offers flexibility yet leaves the storytelling on stage unsupported. Without stronger visual or technical support, the burden of world-building falls heavily on the audience’s imagination. The lighting, while effective in shaping the atmosphere and delivering scene changes, does little to reflect the characters’ psychological states. Similarly, the sparse sound design leaves the production feeling bare, leaving the actors to carry the entire emotional weight of the story.
Candy is a production of raw talent and haunting themes, though occasionally undermined by fragmented storytelling. Yet at its core lies a devastating portrait of love and addiction—one that lingers as a poignant, if imperfect, cry from the heart.