The Connector – 13 January 2024

Jason Robert Brown’s The Connector could not have been performed at a more timely moment for the issues of journalistic integrity that it investigates. This production was poignant and portrayed some of theatre’s most frequently discussed subject material from a different and refreshing angle. I was particularly entranced by the debates about facts verses truth, gender dynamics and the glass ceiling, charisma verses morality, and whether seeing yourself in someone else is turning a blind eye to the ways in which they are different.

Historically, there is a common belief that misinformation comes from not having access to facts and information. In the character of Ethan, this assumption is challenged by lines about the difference between a publication saying “someone saw it happen” and “this happened”, and relying on the reader’s acumen to understand that nuance. This runs contrary to the point of publications—building a base of readership that trusts the publication. After fifty years of building credibility on facts, readers expect truth and are not primed to read critically between the lines.

Conceptually, this is happening in our modern world where the Internet gives access to stories that are not necessarily grounded in facts. Sources are rarely cited, often anonymous and colored by the opinion and agenda of the writer. People not only don’t know who to trust they are, as discussed by Conrad’s character in The Connector, accepting without question the truth of what they read when it’s something they agree with.

This show also captured the workplace gender politics conversation in an honest and fairly unique way. The Connector depicted Robin’s anger and frustration with not being seen because of her gender in a way that didn’t force her into the depiction of feminists as man hating or femme fatales sleeping their way to the top. She was able to be friends with Ethan—able to have a genuine relationship with him without it being overtly sexually charged. There were hints of affection, and it was clear that even though Robin resented Ethan’s success, she didn’t see it as entirely his doing. As an aside, actress Hannah Cruz (Robin)’s song in the bar was phenomenally performed.

The most important part of this relationship was the way that Robin took Ethan down. She was not portrayed as sexually vindictive or angry or bitter—not a vixen exuding vengeance, merely a woman who made a discovery about the lack of integrity of a friend and honored the importance of the integrity of her craft. When she was insulted by Ethan’s negative comments about her publication, she didn’t go through the inner turmoil of wanting to be close to him or feeling like she had to remain at The Connector because it was her only shot. She walked away and she did not look back. She did not stop caring, but she was sure of herself without being vindictive—this kind of objectivity in her character reveals her worth as a journalist—the very same worth that was overlooked time and time again in places where she was not valued because of Conrad’s connection to Ethan.

The relationship between Conrad and Ethan brought in another question of credibility. Ethan seemed like a younger version of Conrad, so Conrad began assuming that Ethan was making decisions the way that he did when he was Ethan’s age. He took it for granted that his impression of Ethan was all encompassing—that since Ethan had traits that were similar to his, Ethan did not also possess traits that were different. This combined with Ethan’s obvious charisma, his way of charming everyone at the publication even as he was pulling the rug out from under them with the lies that he would eventually get caught in. This story also spoke to the power of individuals who see through this kind of charisma—characters like Mona and Muriel who would not be charmed into relaxing their beliefs. It was curious and brilliant that it was the women who rejected Ethan’s charisma, while the men were the most enthralled by it. This may be because Ethan was a young, exuberant, vicarious second chance for the men, where for the women he was a threat to their jobs, ethics, and commitments to morality and integrity.

The last number, with its repeated “there never was” statements was an emotional ride of important reminders of the power (and reality!) of erasure. The first couple are ideas the audience can accept—we’re at a show. Maybe the characters weren’t really based on reality. Maybe Ethan didn’t understand his reality. That’s something the audience can consider as possibly true or partially rational. But then we get to the stronger statements, including “there never was a Holocaust”. These statements capture the power and the danger of journalists who stretch and manipulate the truth, and the magnitude of the domino effect of what people believe.

As strong as Jason Robert Brown’s music was, the biggest strength of this show is its thematic content—the questions it asks, and the questions it answers.

The performance I attended was a preview performance.

I did not attend this performance on a press pass.