Primary Trust (Ensemble) ★★★½

Written by Eboni Booth. Ensemble Theatre. 19 Jun – 12 Jul, 2025.

Eboni Booth’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Primary Trust takes us inside the mind of a man gradually confronting the trauma life has handed him, and learning when to let go of the coping mechanisms that have become crutches.

Kenneth (Albert Mwangi) sits in his favourite tiki bar, sipping mai tais with his best friend Bert (Charles Allen). The staff at Wally’s give him odd looks sometimes, but he’s been going there every day for happy hour, sitting in the back, for years. Kenneth is upfront with the audience: Bert is imaginary. The staff only see him sitting at a table, talking and laughing to himself. One day, he starts a conversation with a new waitress, Corina (Angela Mahlatjie), and maybe, just maybe, he’s about to make his first friend IRL.

I usually roll my eyes at the mawkish sentimentality of American plays, but I’ll confess that Primary Trust got to me despite myself. As Kenneth begins to open up to the people around him — Corina and his new boss, played by Peter Kowitz — the shift from his assured private mental world (talking to the audience and bantering with Bert) to forming real connections is a rough journey.

Booth keeps things tight, avoiding lazy dramatics in favour of character work. Mwangi is almost too charming as Kenneth, who is prone to panic attacks and fits of rage. It’s only around the calm, assured presence of Bert that he ever finds peace. Their relationship is fascinatingly complex. Despite being a figment of Kenneth’s subconscious, Bert feels fully realised thanks to Charles Allen’s performance.

The real MVP of the show is Angela Mahlatjie, who plays not just Corina but a dozen other waitstaff and sundry characters. It’s comedic, yet fully satisfying — one of the most fun performances I’ve seen this year.

The most surprising thing about Primary Trust is how much dramatic tension it sustains in a play where, well, not much happens. In this world, small shifts in personality take on tectonic significance. There’s a comfortable security to the play’s construction. We begin with a monologue telling us that in fifteen years, all the places mentioned will be levelled for new apartments. The very presence and wisdom of Bert symbolise Kenneth’s healing subconscious. Despite the setbacks, you know Kenneth is going to be okay. Rather than robbing the play of tension, this sense of safety allows you to fully invest in Kenneth’s journey. This is a feel-good story of healing, told in retrospect.

Leaving the Ensemble, I felt a warm rush of melancholy and peace. I’d just spent a tight 90 minutes on a journey that left me a bit sad, a bit happy, and ready to face the world outside the theatre’s walls.