Stephen Leach‘s ‘Can’t Wait to Leave’ follows Ryan, played by a vital Zach Hawkins. Only nineteen, he’s locked into London’s gig economy, delivering food for one of the apps. It’s not a way of life he values, but an exit plan is hard to come up with. Leach introduces us to Ryan in a waiting room, where he anxiously waits to be seen, but by who, and what for?
That’s the story he will tell, and what a tale.
‘Can’t Wait to Leave’ is a highly accomplished monologue, creating Ryan as a 3 dimensional character efficiently, and without an excess of exposition. By the time, for example, Ryan has described his reluctant bike ride to meet his brother in the pub to celebrate some undisclosed ‘good news’, we know he didn’t like school, doesn’t really know what he wants to do with his life, and that the only reason he was in London at all, was because his accountant brother told him to come.
That night, Ryan will learn his brother, and new sister-in-law, are leaving for Birmingham, leaving Ryan to see out 6 months in a bedsit he can barely afford, alone. Ryan doesn’t have friends, persay, just a very active presence on Grindr. So he’s just in the wrong place, at the wrong time, to meet a professional acquaintance of his brother, an older man with an appetite for a smooth bodied young man to ‘take under his wing.’
Leach is careful to create a distinctly non-heroic protagonist, and Hawkins leans into Ryan’s ambivalent morality hard. He’s rather shallow, not shy of manipulating those around him, lies as easily as breathe, and is more prone to complaining about his situation than doing anything to change it. None of which makes him undeserving of respect, or indeed sympathy. However making him a complex, real human being does unlock a rich seam of humour which playwright and actor mine relentlessly.
Yes, Ryan is an ass, but asses often get the best punchlines. From mercilessly mocking his brother’s ‘influencer’ wife, through awkward Grindr meetups, and his mother’s singular brand of progressive support, there’s plenty to laugh at.
This is an energized play, pacey and rich with just enough detail to pencil in Ryan’s world around him. When his Bisexuality meets with skepticism and something like derision from his older, homosexual ‘lover’, the play casts light on discussions and challenges rarely given attention. No, both ‘sides’ are not the same, settling down with a woman comes with very different social expectations than a man. No, being Bisexual is not just a ‘phase’ on the way to being ‘properly gay’.
Brash, and full of braggadocio, Ryan is also vulnerable, economically, and personally. Food is often a luxury, and to get a free dinner, he will make unwise choices. Loneliness eats away at him unacknowledged, and toxic contacts he should block seem a vital source of attention in the wee small hours.
Catastrophe is looming long before Ryan sees it advancing upon him, and ‘Can’t Wait to Leave’ isn’t afraid to follow him into the pit in the aftermath. In trying to climb out, the play asks whether Ryan can finally leave. It’s possible that his later struggles with mental health, and discovery of new resolve is just a little sudden, but it’s a minor criticism of what is otherwise a terrific, and sophisticated piece of theatre.
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