A man lifts his hands in the air in jubilation while a second man sits at a desk.
James Carrington, left, is affecting as Kenneth; Terry Bell plays his "best friend," Bert.
Primary Trust is a simple story, fundamentally about community and kindness, portrayed simply in a moving and lovely production launching Forward Theater Company’s 17th season, and running through Sept. 21 at the Overture Center Playhouse. It is, to quote the protagonist and narrator Kenneth, at the very start, simply about “what happened.”
That’s a fittingly unassuming way to frame the extraordinary power of small actions that can lead to healing and change — fittingly, because Kenneth himself, played by an extraordinarily affecting James Carrington, is unassuming. At the play’s start, he is 38, living in the town of Cranberry, an unassuming (and fictional) suburb of Rochester, New York.
And at the play’s end, six months later, those facts are still true. The subtle shifts in his life are internal, sparked by a few encounters with compassion.
Or, as Kenneth puts it, "This is the story of a friendship. Of how I got a new job. A story of love and balance and time. And the smallest of chances."
But those chances mean everything to a man who’s been largely unnoticed for the last 20 years. His life has hinged on a simple routine: he works for Sam (Sam D. White) at a used bookstore, then spends his evenings at Wally’s, a crummy tiki bar, with his best and only friend, Bert (Terry Bell).
Oh, and Bert is imaginary. So there’s that.
Carrington’s great sweetness in playing Kenneth belies the real despair underlining this routine. Kenneth was orphaned young, and as an adult his only hobby, really, is drinking — sometimes to the point of getting cut off. And we later learn that he’s a regular without the benefit of being a regular: nobody at the bar actually knows him or anything about him. He’s served by a rotating series of servers (Lachrisa Grandberry), until one day one of them strikes up a conversation.
That server is Corrina (also Lachrisa Grandberry, now with a flower in her hair), and her kindness is twofold. First, she notices Kenneth, and his new panic at having lost the bookstore job. Then, she tells him about a possible job opening at a bank.
That bank is the titular Primary Trust, where Kenneth meets a second chance when he’s hired by Clay (also Sam D. White), an affable older guy who looks past Kenneth’s shyness and strangeness and gives him the job he so desperately needs. It’s fortunate for very material reasons — Kenneth doesn’t have a safety net and needs the money, as he bluntly states in his interview. But his relationship with Sam also proves to be an extraordinary lesson in second chances. Very few people will stand by you when you fail in public, ugly ways — when your basest, most hurt self takes control. And Kenneth has a tremendous well of pain at his core. But Sam is one of those people, spying something familial in Kenneth and offering grace.
Corrina is another of those people. Another turning point in the relatively brief show (95 minutes, no intermission) comes on a cold night when the two run into each other. This moment is set up like something awful is about to happen. The wind picks up, and he’s in a part of town he doesn’t normally spend time in.
Instead, it turns into an opportunity for raw vulnerability and intimacy, as he shares with Corrina the deep trauma that has informed his life. That fundamental break — a primary breach of trust, in a way — allowed him to reach his late thirties with only an imaginary friendship to sustain him. And Corrina, extraordinarily, greets this disclosure with warmth. When Kenneth later tries to push her away, she doesn’t let him.
Again, extraordinary. The acts of trust that can change a life.
The story’s simplicity is reflected in the production design, too. Chris Dunham’s scenery is composed of three small sets (bookshop, bar, bank). The Cranberry streetscape, which could be Anytown USA, flanks the eaves. The elements of a simple life. And yet.
Costume designer Karen Brown-Larimore likewise allows for transformation through simple tweaks. Kenneth tucking in a shirt and putting on a jacket becomes a different kind of man. The flower in Corrina's hair tells us she’s someone special.
Playwright Eboni Booth was an actor before she became a writer, and that’s clear in the meaty and hearty roles she built. White nails the unpolished goodness of Kenneth’s employer at the bookshop, and, later, the affable gruffness of a small-town bigwig as his employer at the bank. Corrina could have been some kind of magical savior character, but in Grandberry’s hands she’s charismatic, yes, but also ordinary, stumbling her way through trying to be good and build a nice life. (Grandberry also delightfully inhabits the quirks of dozens of different servers and bank customers, lending lightness and joy to the passing days.) And Carrington is a revelation, offering a Kenneth who is tentative but brave, taking deep breaths to get through but taking those breaths nonetheless.
In the Pulitzer Prize-winning script, three asterisks mark the passage of time. This production marks it with the sound of a bell. Sometimes the bell rings and it’s very clear what has happened. Sometimes it rings, and we have to guess — or maybe have faith. Isn’t that how life goes?
