Vivien Endicott-Douglas’ enormous challenge in “Enormity, Girl, and the Earthquake in Her Lungs”

Time stands still, the stage shudders, and one young woman’s inner world fractures into voices clamouring to be heard. 

This is the pulse-quickening premise of Enormity, Girl, and the Earthquake in Her Lungs, the world premiere play by Chelsea Woolley that opens Nightwood Theatre’s 46th season this September. For acclaimed actor Vivien Endicott-Douglas, stepping into the role of Vic — a woman in her twenties who arrives at a women’s shelter and reckons with truths she has long denied — has been “exciting and also daunting”.

Weaving Vic’s voice with echoes of doubles, tendrils, and ghosts from the past, the play demands an actor who can balance vulnerability with fierce presence. So the role draws on Endicott-Douglas’s signature ability to inhabit characters with raw honesty, but also tests her capacity to carry an audience through the disorienting terrain of trauma and resilience. “When I first read the play, what struck me most about playing Vic was all the ways she tries to protect herself from the painful truth,” Endicott-Douglas recalls. “It’s such a human thing to know you need to change, but to be so scared of letting go of what you’ve known.” 

And Vic’s layers of honesty, denial, and indecision offered Endicott-Douglas an irresistible challenge. “It’s fun to play someone who is trying very hard to appear okay, but they are clearly not okay. There are layers,” she notes. “I love layers.”

A fresh lens on urgent themes

Running September 16 to October 5 at the newly-built Nancy & Ed Jackman Performance Centre, Enormity is directed by Nightwood Artistic Director Andrea Donaldson. The play marks a decade-long collaboration between Donaldson and author Woolley, who first developed the piece through Nightwood’s Write from the Hip program.

The story unfolds as Vic arrives at the women’s shelter, where her personified inner voices —. alternately obstructive, supportive, and hilarious — jostle for dominance. The result is a highly physical and unexpectedly comedic exploration of survival and healing, which reminds audiences of the bravery required to face trauma and seek help within a system that few expect to need. On reading the script, Endicott-Douglas was immediately taken by Woolley’s “powerful language and wildly original conceit: the way the different parts of Vic’s mind help and obstruct her moment of reckoning.” The vulnerability required results in “the kind of theatre I love to be part of and to go see. I think it should feel dangerous … and say to the audience, ‘hey, we see you being human and messy and brave, and we’re going to reflect that back to you tonight.’”

At the same time, portraying Vic required Endicott-Douglas to ground herself in the character’s determination: “remembering that Vic is actively fighting for something,” even while playing through her fragmented states of mind. “At any given moment [Vic] is trying to deny the truth, ground herself, remember the facts, seek a solution, make sense of what’s happened,” Endicott-Douglas explains. “So even though my character is in a fractured state, she is always in some way trying to overcome it.” That said, Endicott-Douglas approaches crisis with caution. She is keenly aware that the body often reacts to imagined trauma as though it were real, so she keeps rituals in place – like stretching, shaking, vocal warm-ups and deep breathing – that allow her to stay present. “All that good stuff,” she affirms. “I need it. It helps me stay grounded and open.”

Finding clarity – and even joy – in fragmentation

The play’s structure, with overlapping voices, shifting memories, and doubles that mirror or challenge Vic, demands technical precision, which Endicott-Douglas finds by actively listening to her fellow actors. “Vic is very susceptible to the will and tactics of each part of her mind, which is quite fun to play — constantly being pulled back and forth. Ideally, all I have to do is listen and let my castmates sway me one way or the other.”

Endicott-Douglas likens Woolley’s writing to music that “builds, crescendos, dips, bursts”, and “demands a level of technicality that is challenging and exciting to play. When it works, it feels great. It’s poetry. Kind of like Shakespeare.” The punctuation, overlaps, and repeated words provide all the clues she needs. “I mostly try to just deliver what’s on the page, and let the structure and words work their magic.” And Donaldson’s collaborative approach encourages her: “Andrea’s trust and belief in me has contributed greatly to building my confidence as an actor over the years. She gives me space to express and to try things, and we can dig in together because there is a lot of trust there.”

The production’s Movement Director has also been critical in shaping Endicott-Douglas’ performance: “Sometimes movement can feel like complicated math to me, but working with Lisa Karen Cox freed me from that fear on day one. She has a masterful eye, and her support has been integral to shaping my experience of playing Vic. I’ve learned a lot from the way she works.”

And despite the sobering subject matter of Enormity, Girl, and the Earthquake in Her Lungs, the stage and rehearsal room have both been a joy. The ensemble checks in daily and supports one another. That group — Bria McLaughlin, Sofia Rodriguez, Philippa Domville, Emerjade Simms and Liz Der, with Marta Armstrong and Noa Furlong alternating as Daisy — brings both warmth and humour to the rehearsal room. “There’s a lot of care in the room: care for each other, but also care for the work and what we’re making together,” she reflects. “I feel lucky I get to go to work every day with my amazing castmates. It’s a special group.” 

And that group, combined with moments of comedy that Woolley has woven into the script, are potent medicine for Endicott-Douglas: “The characters and their relationships with each other are so lovable and funny. I’m finding it hard to keep a straight face in certain moments. It’s joyful to work with actors who make me laugh this much.”

Beyond the stage

After the emotional intensity of demanding rehearsal days, Endicott-Douglas turns to simple rituals to restore balance:  “Understanding how to listen to my body and ask for what I need has really helped me not blur the lines between what we’re making and real life.”

Liz Der, Vivien Endicott-Douglas, Philippa Domville, and Sofia Rodriguez (photo: Dahlia Katz)

Walking home from rehearsal is a primary form of decompression, which helps her shed everything that Vic carries. “It’s demanding emotionally, but this work has always been a place for me to put my feelings. And that has always felt empowering for me,” she explains. “It helps me express parts of myself that I haven’t always felt able to express in my life. The work is vulnerable in this piece, so I try to practise as much patience and grace as possible with myself,” she shares. “I chat it out with my friends. And baths. Lots of baths.”

For Endicott-Douglas, the play’s themes of survival, trauma and healing resonate strongly in today’s moment.  She sees it pointing clearly to the many cycles of violence that are passed down … but also to the possibility of breaking them. “It’s only when Vic is able to accept what’s happened to her that she is able to move forward,” she notes. “Acceptance and responsibility is a step towards breaking these cycles on a broader scale. It’s brave to step out of the pattern: to admit you’ve been harmed, and seek help.”

She hopes audiences leaving the theatre are equally brave, and “see themselves and parts of themselves reflected in Vic’s journey.and each character on stage…. I think everyone wants and deserves to feel safe and seen and loved – and this play reminds us of that.”

Enormity, Girl, and the Earthquake in Her Lungs runs from September 16 to October 5 at the Nancy & Ed Jackman Performance Centre. Tickets and full schedule are available at nightwoodtheatre.net.

© Arpita Ghosal, Sesaya Arts Magazine 2025

  • Arpita Ghosal is a Toronto-based arts writer. She founded Sesaya Music in 2004 and Sesaya Arts Magazine in 2012.