REVIEW: Primary Trust harnesses anxiety for good at London’s Grand Theatre
iPhoto caption: Durae McFarlane in 'Primary Trust.' Photo by Dahlia Katz.
Spoiler alert: This review contains information about the second half of Primary Trust‘s plot.
Imagining the worst can be oddly reassuring. It makes inaction feel like safety. For Kenneth (Durae McFarlane), the endearingly anxious protagonist of Eboni Booth’s Primary Trust, stasis has felt safe for decades.
Midway through the 95-minute play, Kenneth spirals into a vivid imaginary scenario that begins with accepting a happy-hour invitation from his boss and ends with him fired, homeless, and unable to afford his beloved mai tais.
“Or,” Kenneth’s best friend, Bert (Peter N. Bailey), gently proposes instead. “Or.”
The simple word opens an alternative future where connection is possible and catastrophe isn’t inevitable. Bert’s vision is as imaginary as Kenneth’s, but Primary Trust quietly asks: if imagination influences our reality, why not imagine something kinder?
A co-production between the Grand Theatre and Crow’s Theatre, Primary Trust invites its audience to harness creativity to visualize hopeful futures rather than disasters. This tender production, directed by Cherissa Richards, proposes that imagining such a future is the first step to achieving it.
Adrift after losing his long-time bookstore job, Kenneth’s sole anchor is nightly mai tais with Bert at the local tiki bar. When Corrina (Khadijah Roberts-Abdullah), a kind waitress, points him toward a bank teller position at Primary Trust, Kenneth’s world in small-town Cranberry, a fictional suburb near Rochester, begins to widen. We watch as he enters a new workplace, tentatively builds friendships, and starts to reckon with childhood trauma. I found myself relentlessly rooting for Kenneth as, gradually, he lets himself picture brighter futures and bring them into reality.
This Pulitzer Prize-winning script is economical in both language and plot. Booth’s emotional offering cuts to the heart with a simply constructed story, understated humour, and dialogue unburdened by purple prose. Within the show’s tight scope, the human need for connection shines.
The script calls for a small cast, compressing Kenneth’s world, and the production’s shallow playing space reinforces these limits further. Roberts-Abdullah and Ryan Hollyman populate the entire town of Cranberry as a revolving door of Wally’s waiters and Primary Trust customers, bringing each unique personality to life.
Wally’s tiki bar and Bert’s companionship are Kenneth’s oases of constancy. Compared to Cranberry’s streetscape — with its graffitied concrete walls and weed-strewn sidewalks evoked in gritty detail by set designer Julie Fox — Wally’s neon palm tree sign is a beacon of safety. Imogen Wilson’s lighting bathes Kenneth’s corner booth with rosy pinks and a splash of whimsical teal, offering a welcoming warmth rarely found elsewhere in town.
The Musician (Lawrence Libor) is an enigmatic, Hawaiian-shirted fixture upstage. Beyond providing Wally’s musical ambiance on the keyboard, he rings a service bell critical to the play’s structure. Although the frequent interruptions are initially jarring, the bell’s chime appears to give Kenneth the flexibility to play with time, speak directly to the audience, and shape the telling of his story.
While the show plays loose with realism, the cast’s performances keep things grounded. McFarlane embodies the physicality of Kenneth’s anxiety in every nervous gesture and object he clutches for comfort. He handles emotionally challenging moments with grace, especially when Kenneth grapples with grief.
Bailey’s Bert radiates warmth and steadiness. As he redirects his friend away from anxious spirals, it’s easy to understand why Kenneth clings to his comforting presence. And Hollyman brings humour as Clay, a quarterback-turned-bank-manager, whose efforts to relate to Kenneth are beautifully genuine in their clumsiness.
Roberts-Abdullah’s Corrina has an instant and unique connection with Kenneth. The scene where they visit a French restaurant to sip martinis and discuss the challenges of friendship represents the emotional heart of the play. Even among the awkwardness of new connection, Kenneth and Corrina offer each other space and patience as they search for words to describe their hidden hurts.
From my second-row seat, the quietly devastating revelations and subtle facial expressions made me lean in close. I’m curious how the show’s intimate intensity translates to balcony viewers, but feel confident its emotional gravity would cast a compelling spell throughout the house. I imagine it will translate well when the production transfers to the much smaller Crow’s Guloien Theatre this spring.
In its final scene, Primary Trust moves quickly, telling rather than showing what comes next for Kenneth. Although we don’t get to bear witness to his brighter future, I trust that it exists. And, if we accept Primary Trust’s hopeful proposal, it’s this ability to imagine better that creates our personal realities.
Primary Trust runs at London’s Grand Theatre until February 7. More information is available here.
Izzy Siebert wrote this review as part of ON Criticism: The 2025/26 Theatre Critics Lab, a collaboration between the Grand Theatre, Talk is Free Theatre, Tarragon Theatre, Theatre Aquarius, and Intermission.
Izzy Siebert
Izzy Siebert (she/her) is a writer based in London, Ontario, where she works in the city's culture and entertainment scene. Her foray into professional theatre criticism began through ON Criticism: The 2025/2026 Theatre Critics Lab, a collaboration between Intermission and four Ontario theatres. In her spare time (which theoretically exists), Izzy enjoys writing poetry and stepping on stage herself.
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