Western Michigan University theatre recently opened its first production of 2026 with The Coast Starlight. It runs until Feb 15. WMUK’s Gordon Bolar has this review.
Six strangers are together on an overnight train trip from Los Angeles to Seattle. Each of the passengers on The Coast Starlight has a secret and a decision to make by their journey’s end.
The unique manner in which these characters interact with one another, or perhaps more importantly, fail to interact, sets Keith Bunin’s play apart. It also provides unusual insights into human connections, and leads to a thought-provoking evening of theatre.
Ewan Gorski as TJ, presents a young central character who seems to be interested in other people. But Gorski’s broad smile and outgoing demeanor are merely an appropriate mask for the tumultuous inner monologue taking place inside this young Navy medic. We soon learn that he is on the brink of going AWOL and skipping out on orders to return to the war in Afghanistan.
TJ notices Jane, a young woman on the train who has been looking at him. Portrayed in a winning performance by Jade Downey, Jane makes us a party to an inner monologue of her own, revealing innocence and insight as she surveys her newly found interest.
We hear TJ wonder aloud: Is she on to his plans to escape the military? Is she interested in him for romantic reasons? And where will verbal contact with this attractive young woman lead?
Through these spoken musings of the inner mind, we’re allowed to hear the thoughts of TJ, Jane, and subsequently other characters on the train. As we do so, we enter the very heart of the play and are pulled into Bunin’s view of human interaction or what often passes for it.
The playwright implies that before we make meaningful verbal contact with one another, we size up our fellow beings from afar. We project our thoughts, questions, concerns, and fantasies on one another, either correctly or incorrectly. We can’t help it. It’s just what we do, particularly when we’re placed in the anonymity of a public conveyance with strangers in view.
After Jane reveals herself to be a sketch artist, whose work is the quick rendering of others based on initial appearance, the outline of Bunin’s perspective on human nature begins to take shape.
As we watch, TJ and Jane seem to make a meaningful connection based on shared past experiences and the imminent decisions confronting them. As this relationship develops, other characters arrive and enter the train car to eavesdrop on the couple’s discussion. They move six black chairs around the empty stage of the York Arena, to accentuate the conversations.
Are they assisting the couple’s discussions? Or are they merely rearranging the “deck chairs” on this voyage? Each new arrival brings a viewpoint that illuminates the choices before TJ and Jane.
Kyle Maynard as Noah, a former soldier, enters with a firm admonition to TJ: return to duty now or your life will be ruined. Although Noah appears to be firmly grounded, Maynard’s complex character eventually reveals a more transitory status: he lives on a boat and is seemingly adrift on life’s playing field, after his own encounters on Middle Eastern battlefields.
Marryn Barney’s Liz takes stage with a welcome comic presence as she talks loudly on her cell phone. Although she freely gives advice regarding choices for sexual partners or life-long soul mates, Barney’s frenzied, detailed account of a sordid, scattered past belies any reliability she might bring to the train car discussion regarding matters of love, particularly for TJ and Jane.
Aidan Dockendorf, portrays Ed, a drunken, travelling businessman. Dockendorf’s performance appropriately suggests that this prisoner of the road can’t muster the fortitude to get off the merry go round. Could this be a life lesson for TJ?
Another passenger attempting to break from the past is Anna, played by Molly Wilson. Wilson’s character is haunted by ghosts, including that of her late brother, recently lost to heroin. TJ provides her with a hug and insight, in the vein of Jane’s supportive role toward others onboard.
Here playwright Bunin pulls the rug out from under us with a revelation that causes the audience to review all it has previously heard, and carefully consider the difference between what is spoken aloud and what is kept in the heart. It’s a moment that whets the appetite for a happy ending between TJ and Jane, while imbuing a sadness for all the roads not taken, connections not made, or possibilities unpursued.
My attention was captured throughout by the actors in Mark Liermann’s smart, well-directed ensemble. But after the curtain, I found myself looking across the darkened stage at other audience members putting on their coats. Who were these people? What stories did they have? Did they have inner monologues, ones that would never be spoken, similar to mine? As I put on my own coat, I began to feel the full impact of this production.