Clyde’s (Ensemble Theatre) ★★★1/2

Written by Lynn Nottage. Australian Premiere. Ensemble Theatre. 5 May – 10 June, 2023.

Lynn Nottage, the two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, comes to the stage with a lot of expectations. Her new comedy, Clyde’s, hits Australia with a reputation of being the most staged play in America last year. There’s clearly something good here. 

In a truck-stop in Pennsylvania, four ex-felons work the kitchen making sandwiches for drivers on the go, under the watchful eye of aggressive matriarch Clyde (Nancy Denis). The zen-like sandwich master Montrellous (Charles Allen) is experimenting with flavours and finessing his approach to life. Rafael (Gabriel Alvarado) mans the grill while Letitia (Ebony Vagulans) preps and assembles the orders. When a new employee, Jason (Aaron Tsindos), arrives with white supremacist tattoos, the Black and Latinx staff bristle. Together, the four of them strive to find meaning in their work while Clyde berates and assaults them. Can the pursuit of the perfect sandwich save their souls?

There is a mad-cap, workplace sit-com energy to Clyde’s. The eponymous boss is like a nasty Krammer crashing through Seinfeld’s door, causing chaos and belittling her team. Montrellous’ patience seems to be almost absolute, while Letitia and Rafael flirt and Jason reveals himself to be more than he seems. Nottage’s dialogue is snappy, and by juxtaposing the gritty reality of the kitchen to the descriptions of their dream sandwiches (“Maine lobster on a potato roll with truffle mayo, caramelised fennel and a touch of dill” etc) it sells the aspirational dreams of these ex-cons looking for a better life. 

Darren Yap’s production is fast and frenetic (and desperately unhygienic for a kitchen space). Some careful touches of fire and smoke, and the constant moving and slamming down of condiments, adds a layer of physical comedy to the evening. You are guaranteed not to be bored. But beneath all the sound and fury, I feel like something was lacking.

Both Nottage’s characters, and Yap’s direction are broad and don’t leave much room for the performers to give their roles the nuance they need to elevate them. Clyde herself becomes a series of one-note barks; funny at first, less so after 90 minutes. The secret of Montrellous’ own incarceration is disappointingly vapid. The actual food-prep on stage is so haphazard it cuts against the text. The only character to get real development is the newcomer Jason and you can predict it all from the moment he walks on stage. For a story of ex-cons, this play has assembled a range of soft-ball criminals whose redemption is within easy reach, guaranteed not to divide the audience too much.

I’ll be frank, whatever Lynn Nottage’s secret sauce is, it does little for me – but that doesn’t mean it won’t work for you. I was similarly unmoved by her Pulitzer Prize winning drama, Sweat. Clyde’s is amusing but cloying and unsubtle with the gloss of deeper meaning but no real depth. Others have loved it, maybe you will too!