I’ve never attended a high school reunion. More than one milestone date has come and gone, and my feeling has always been the same. I’m still in touch with those I want to be. That chapter is closed, so why pry it open?
But by the time we’re a decade or two removed from graduation, we can surely all recognize the siren call of the past: the fantasy of re-entering the hothouse of youth to put right a wrong, rekindle the embers of a lost relationship, or just bathe in the comfort of nostalgia.
Craig Wright’s The Pavilion, now receiving a quietly spellbinding outdoor production from King Theatre Company, understands this impulse, but places it in dialogue with bigger concerns.
Much bigger. The play starts at the beginning of everything: the Big Bang, the cooling of galaxies, the emergence of life, and then the full sweep of human history. Then it telescopes down, down, down to two people in a small Minnesota town: Peter and Kari, former sweethearts, circling each other at their twentieth high school reunion, while the titular pavilion, where they once fell in love, awaits demolition. The Pavilion dances exquisitely between the cosmos and the unique, tiny worlds that we each individually center and inhabit, and from which we explore and connect with the worlds of other individuals.
It’s a poetic play that works on multiple levels and binds tough stakes to potent symbols. An unwanted pregnancy ended Peter and Kari’s relationship. That unborn future becomes a road not taken, hovering over every exchange. Peter behaved reprehensibly. He may still be a deluded narcissist. The question is whether cosmic time or human will can offer any egress from the closed system of the past.
Director Chloë Rose Flowers has found the perfect setting for this liminal drama: Pine Farms Orchard in King City, where audiences can gather on Muskoka chairs, wrapped in blankets, as the sun sets behind woods and farmland. The orchard storefront stands in for the pavilion itself—rustic, impermanent, at dusk, in that back-to-school moment when our minds go backward and forward simultaneously.
Josh Palmer does heavy lifting as the Narrator. Not only is he our cosmic guide, delivering Wright’s lyrically telescopic history of creation. He also populates a dizzying cast of male and female reunion attendees as they orbit Peter and Kari—winking them to life with little more than a shift of voice, a gesture and sometimes a simple prop. It’s a winning performance: warm, earnest, and tireless, with a welcome twinkle flashing in his eye whenever he interacts with the audience.
When he recedes so the human-level drama can unfold unmediated, the leads come into their own. Ian Ottis Goff navigates Peter’s culpability with ginger delicacy. His musical chops shine in “Down in the Ruined World,” a haunting folk-rock lament with music by Peter Lawton and lyrics by Wright. But it’s a tough gig, making us not want ill for this man who may not deserve our grace. Meanwhile, Alexa Higgins brings quiet fire to Kari: her stillness carries decades of unresolved feeling. One moment—a sudden-seeming shift toward Peter—rang slightly untrue for me. But the play’s cosmic framing gave me pause as soon as I felt it: perhaps something has to give, and sometimes the universe sends a signal. I went with it.
Daniel Tessy’s sound design deserves special mention. The dialogue, music and sound were fully audible without overpowering the crickets, the rustling leaves and the occasional motorcycle on the 16th Sideroad. It’s a delicate balancing act in such a dynamic outdoor setting.
The core preoccupation of The Pavilion is achingly human. We are passengers on time’s relentless, one-way escalator, and whatever our regrets, there is no going back. But if we feel like prisoners, the play argues, this is a trap of our making. We are creators imbued with power to shape our lives into our own “big bangs” and histories. And in keeping with this thought, the ending sidesteps both cliché and discomfort with an elegant, heartfelt and hopeful split-screen.
I was thoroughly charmed by The Pavilion. No, it didn’t make me want to attend my next high school reunion. But it enthralled me. It made me think. And it reminded me that closed chapters aren’t ever as sealed as we tell ourselves—because we have the glorious opportunity to create anew every day.
The Pavilion runs at Pine Farms Orchard (King City, Ontario) until August 22, 2026. Performances are at 7:00 p.m., run approximately 90 minutes with no intermission, and are recommended for ages 13 years and older. Tickets at kingtheatre.ca.
© Scott Sneddon, Sesaya Arts Magazine 2026
