There’s something hauntingly paradoxical about a play titled Lungs—a work that forces its audience to confront the weight of bringing new life into a world on the brink of collapse. And yet, here we are, watching a real-life couple debate whether to have a baby in a climate-ravaged future, all while the production itself boasts a carbon footprint so minimal it could be mistaken for a metaphor. This isn’t just theater; it’s a mirror held up to our collective anxiety, and Richard Rose, the man behind the curtain, knows exactly how to make us squirm.
Rose, a director who once helmed Toronto’s Tarragon Theatre, has returned to his roots in Sudbury to stage this provocative piece. But what makes this particularly fascinating is his admission that he’s been itching to direct Lungs for over a decade. Why? Because it’s written in the language of everyday people—no pretension, no poetic flourishes, just raw, unfiltered dialogue that feels like eavesdropping on a couple’s most intimate arguments. In my opinion, that’s where the real power lies. When a play speaks in the vernacular of the street, it becomes a universal conversation, one that transcends the stage and seeps into the fabric of our daily lives.
Let’s talk about the real-life couple playing the leads, Adrian Marchesano and Karly Friesen. They’re not just actors—they’re a pair navigating the same existential questions their characters face. Rose, ever the observant director, warned them not to ‘take these scenes home.’ But isn’t that the cruelest irony? The lines between fiction and reality blur here, and I can’t help but wonder: when the curtain falls, do these actors ever find themselves questioning their own choices? Or does the play become a strange kind of therapy, a way to process the chaos of love and climate anxiety simultaneously?
And then there’s the production itself. Rose boasts that Lungs has a carbon footprint so negligible it’s practically a sermon on sustainability. No set, no elaborate lights—just a few sound effects and the actors’ breath. What this really suggests is that art can be a tool for environmental consciousness, not just a reflection of it. But here’s the kicker: the play’s message about overpopulation and climate change feels almost quaint in the face of today’s reality. We’re not debating whether to have children anymore; we’re fighting to ensure the planet can support them. Yet Rose insists the humor in the play is what draws audiences. ‘There’s nothing more ridiculous than a couple figuring out whether they should have a baby or not,’ he says. And I’ll admit, the absurdity is undeniable. But isn’t that the point? To laugh at the absurdity of our situation before we’re forced to confront the gravity of it?
Sudbury’s YES Theatre, which Rose praises for its vibrant programming, has become a hub for both light-hearted and heavy-hitting material. It’s a reminder that local theaters aren’t just cultural anchors—they’re incubators for conversations that matter. Rose, a Sudbury native, walks the same streets he did as a child, now directing a play that grapples with the very future he might have once imagined for his hometown. What many people don’t realize is how deeply personal this project is for him. The science centre where he once swam as a kid now looms over the Refettorio theatre, a silent witness to the generational shift from environmental innocence to awareness.
As the play runs until August 29, it’s worth asking: does Lungs offer any answers, or is it simply a provocation? In my view, it’s the latter. The play doesn’t resolve the couple’s dilemma—it amplifies the tension, leaving the audience to wrestle with their own complicity in the climate crisis. And yet, in that tension, there’s a strange kind of hope. If a play can make us laugh while making us question our choices, maybe that’s the first step toward change. After all, what’s more powerful than art that forces us to confront the uncomfortable truths we’ve been avoiding for decades?
