Theatre review: The Lifespan of a Fact serves up a fast, witty showdown over stories and the meaning of truth
Sharp dialogue as a writer, a fact-checker, and an editor wrestle over writerly embellishments in Kindred Theatre Society production
Ben Immanuel, Loretta Walsh, and Tal Shulman. Photo by Shimon Karmel
Kindred Theatre Society presents The Lifespan of a Fact at Studio 16 to May 12
IN A NEW YORK magazine office, Emily, a seasoned editor-in-chief, poses a probing question to Jim, an eager Ivy-league intern: “What is a story?” Jim starts with an academic definition, before the editor interrupts to say that stories are our tools for making meaning of the chaos of the world.
But who decides how stories are told? Does finding meaning overshadow truth? And who gets to decide what’s true? These are some of the questions that The Lifespan of a Fact, written by Jeremy Kareken, David Murrell, and Gordon Farrell, delves into.
In the play, we follow Jim in his first assignment: fact-checking an essay by famed veteran writer John about the real-life suicide of a teenage boy in Las Vegas. As they prep for publication, there are clashes over truth versus fiction in this fast, witty, three-character showdown.
Jim (Tal Shulman) is keen to impress. When Emily (Loretta Walsh) suggests he contact John (Ben Immanuel) about a specific question, the intern's charming, excitable energy quickly turns to panic. He refers to John's piece as an article instead of an essay, unintentionally triggering the writer's immediate offense.
After some tense phone calls and emails—marked by John’s hostility and Jim’s persistent efforts—the two meet in person when Jim shows up at John’s home. There, the pair have debates over the accuracy of the piece’s many details. The writer stresses that these specifics are crucial for the essay’s impact, something the editor believes could revitalize the magazine's declining readership. But in the fact-checker’s hands, the 15-page essay is as a scribble of red markings, each one circling, underlining, or making note of factual errors and inconsistencies ready to be scrutinized.
As unexciting as it may sound to eavesdrop on a fact-checking session, the script gives the characters entertainingly sharp dialogue to defend each of their points of view. Which isn’t to say they’re always right.
For Jim, the hunger to prove himself leads him to raise relevant ethical questions that he also smartly points out have changed over time (say, people dedicating themselves to debunking things on Reddit). But in his obsessive precision in completing the job, he also doesn’t know how to differentiate the more inconsequential things, like the colour of the bricks of a building.
John, on the other hand, refuses to budge, sticking to a romantic notion of writerly beauty that has won him professional recognition and that he admires in his literary heroes. When his loosely interpreted facts are exposed and questioned, he pushes back, valuing the flow of the story and the emotional truth certain embellishments can reveal. He identifies as a writer, not a journalist, teetering on the line between passionate and arrogant: “I’ll take madness over boring, rote proficiency any time.”
Director Jennifer Clement’s staging has great timing, with well-timed pings from phone notifications, along with projections showing real-time interactions with computer and phone screens. An eerily neutral set and costumes make sure the attention stays on the characters’ volley of exchanges.
The actors are also quick on their feet. In Shulman’s performance, Jim’s pedantic efforts take on a slightly unhinged but fully earnest quality, and Immanuel gives grounded complexity to John’s moodiness and rigidity. It’s easy to empathize with both characters at different times. When their arguments start to feel a bit repetitive, Walsh as the slightly intimidating and coolheaded Emily enters the scene to rein in the two men or up the stakes.
Since “fake news” became a thing, the topic of truth in journalism has become highly contentious. The discussion in The Lifespan of a Fact (based on John D’Agata and Jim Fingal's book of the same name)isn't exactly about that, as what John writes isn't exactly news. The responsibilities and limits of creative nonfiction, which the play explores, might be slightly more niche, but it also opens up the possibility for a debate that's not so black and white, and with room for some humour. 
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