BY EMILY LANDOLFI ’27
A friendship. A tragedy. A competition.
Never Swim Alone by Daniel Maclvor is the definition of emotional whiplash. The play follows two best friends as they rival each other in thirteen rounds of competition varying from “WHO IS TALLER” to “WHO HAS A LOADED GUN.” What begins as a friendly, silly game quickly turns sinister with a deadly mystery unraveling before our eyes. The production showed in Skidmore’s Theater Studio A on December 8th, 9th, and 10th and was directed by visionary Lucas Falick (‘25).
The show begins with Frank (Ken Caron-Quinn ‘27) and Bill (Tom Wilkens ‘27) entering the studio and shaking the hands of front-row audience members, repeating the same phrase simultaneously: “Hello. Good to see you. Glad you could come.” The immediate immersive-ness prepares audiences for the interactive nature of the whole show, and the overlapping dialogue between the men is a constant throughout the performance to represent their mundane similarities. They are both business men, married, grew up together, and seemingly differ in little characteristics: height, sock color, etc. Like any contest, they need a Referee (Ally Stanton ‘27) who is often alluded to as A Girl in a Blue Bathing Suit. We get the sense there is a history here, some childhood connection between these men and this girl. Before she blows the whistle to begin the competition, she tells a very specific story: “A beach. A bay. The point. Two boys on a beach… Nearby is a girl… She turns her head a little over her shoulder and speaks to the boys: ‘Race you to the point?’ This is the beach. Here is the bay. There is the point.”
Before she tells any further or explains what exactly “the point” is, she begins round one: stature. Frank wins this round, determined by the referee grabbing his hand and raising it into the air, and is granted the opportunity to tell the audience more about his life. In the second round, Bill wins and we learn more about who he is. It is then established that though both of these men seem very much like each other, they are not because one man is the first man and the other has a gun. The play goes on in a similar pattern, with each man winning rounds and their “prize” being to cue the audience into their life and — sometimes — secrets. It all seems like fun in games, no harm no foul, a friendly banter between two people who have known each other forever. The nature of the show appears to be a commentary on extreme competitiveness and how it can influence your interpersonal relationships, especially when victory requires a semblance of sacrifice. However, the entire framework of the show is flipped on its head when the referee calls for halftime.
In the halftime portion of their competition, the audience learns more about the story between Frank, Bill, and the referee. A few facts became clear: they met when they were teens at the beach one summer afternoon, the two boys clearly interested in the girl. She knew this and, interested in them right back, asked them to race her to the point. From our understanding, the point is somewhere beyond the bay and would require the three of them to swim out to it. It is revealed that the boys waited for her at the edge of the point, meaning they must have gotten there first and causing the audience to question how long they were waiting for and where the girl was at the time. Returning back to the present moment, she asks them if they remember that day because she does. As if nothing important has just been disclosed, she blows the whistle once more and restarts the game.
The second half of their competition is far more intense, secrets and lies coming undone one after the other. It is reiterated that one of these men holds a gun, a foreshadowing for the end of the play. It is exposed that Frank’s wife is having an affair with his boss and Bill once engaged in a threesome with those two behind Frank’s back. At this point, Frank is seething with anger and betrayal and, from the audiences’ perspective, becoming unhinged. In a sudden shift of focus, we return back to the two boys at the beach racing the girl to the point. The actors physically swim through the air on stage to reflect the timeline of events: they begin to race, the girl believes she is a faster swimmer, the boys get caught up in the competitiveness between the two of them and focus on beating each other, she begs them to stop and they don’t, she is falling and falling and falling behind. Frank is chanting to himself, “Cut through the water to the point” while Bill mutters, “And I feel her, I feel her fall back.” They are consumed by their egos, their respective self-images, and the ultimate desire to be first. As they make it the point, the girl drowns without anyone to save her.
When she finally washes up, Bill has fled the scene and Frank is there by himself trying to aid her back to life. The entire mystery is exposed while Frank is beating Bill up, kicking him in the stomach and forcing him to stay on the ground. In the end, Frank declares that he has always been, and will be, the first man. As Bill finally gets up, he opens his briefcase and reveals a gun, pointing it at Frank who is on the other side of the stage. In a shocking twist, Frank pulls out a gun as well despite the constant insurance that only one man would have a gun. The two standoff, frozen in place waiting for the referee to make the firing call. She informs them only one gun is loaded and leaves. The play ends with the two in a violent, deadly freeze frame, an ambiguous ending for audiences to interpret.
I left the show bewildered, aching to watch it at least two more times. Each actor was present in the moment and carried clear intentions, and I never knew who to look at since they each were extraordinarily expressive and playful at all times. Caron-Quinn’s authentic performance of a traumatized man on a descent to madness had me feeling both fear and empathy for the man onstage. The relationship that Caron-Quinn and Wilkens crafted was clear, and I felt as if I was truly watching two people battle a moral decision: friendship or success. Ally’s vulnerability and liveliness made her haunting depiction of death — representing how innocence inevitability dies due to the consequences of irresponsibility — hit a nerve, leaving me in tears. I felt emotionally turned upside down because throughout the 50 minute play, I got to know each of these men personally to ultimately feel just as betrayed and disgusted by them as the girl did. These three actors mastered the ability to embrace their characters and make brave, over-the-top acting choices while grounding themselves in reality. I thought about their performances for weeks to come as they achieved what many actors wish to: making the audience feel something real.
I would be remiss to not discuss the bravery and artistic risk to direct such a piece, and Lucas embraced the challenge head-on. The stylistic choices Lucas employed throughout the play were focused, playful, and purposeful. They utilized the theater community to create set pieces (such as wooden signs that served as a backdrop, specific props, and a foreshadowing device) and worked alongside a lighting designer to aid in telling the story, taking advantage of every technical opportunity to enhance the production. Lucas has an astounding ability to read words in a script and bring them to life in a far more expansive, genuine way than anyone else I’ve ever seen. They know how to effectively translate themes in a respectful manner while also making it understandable for viewers to digest. Though their ideas actively influence the space and the show’s visual trajectory, they encourage actors to take risks and don’t shy away from making each performance unique. From an audience’s perspective, it is clear how much passion and dedication Lucas puts into understanding a show and doing it justice while adding a personal spin. I can say with full confidence I could watch a million shows directed by Lucas and not get bored. They know how to use a theater and transform it into a whole other world, openly collaborating with their actors to make each performance feel alive.
Never Swim Alone provides insight into an individual’s natural desire to be first, an instinct we all possess but regulate in a way Frank and Bill do not. They represent the capability within all of us to sacrifice friendship, love, and values in order to win. There will always be consequences to our actions and we must weigh out whether personal glory is worth losing our moral compass.
Photos by Logan Waugh
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Emily Landolfi ’27 is a staff writer for the Skidmore Theater Living Newsletter