Written by Gabriel Jason Dean

Directed by Ari Laura Kreith

Review by Dominic Corr

Traverse Theatre

There’s a quiet, persistent tremor running through RIFT, Gabriel Jason Dean’s play at the Traverse Theatre for the 2025 Travfest season. It’s not the kind that splits the earth open, but the kind that unsettles the ground beneath your feet—an emotional tectonic shift that speaks to the fragility of family, identity, and belief. Directed with a steady hand and a generous heart by Ari Laura Kreith, RIFT is a deeply human piece of theatre, rooted in real-life experience and personal testimony, that finds its strength in empathy—even if it occasionally sidesteps the messier truths it gestures toward.

Inspired by Dean’s own relationship with his brother, a white supremacist, RIFT is a fictionalised account that doesn’t feel all that fictional with the levels of everyday division around us; Brexit, immigration, privatisation, class, Brexit (again). The script pulses with lived-in detail: the awkward pauses, the half-jokes that mask pain, the way love and ideology can sit uneasily side by side. Dean’s writing is unshowy but precise, crafting characters who feel like people we know—or people we might be. There’s no villain here, no easy catharsis. Instead, RIFT offers a portrait of two siblings trying to navigate the fault lines of their shared past and divergent futures.

Kreith’s direction is quietly assured, allowing the emotional weight of the material to land without ever tipping into melodrama. The staging is restrained, with subtle shifts in lighting and sound underscoring the emotional terrain rather than dictating it. It’s a production that understands the power of stillness, of silence, of letting the audience sit with discomfort. And yet, for all its emotional intelligence, RIFT doesn’t quite dig into the most difficult conversations it raises.

There are moments when the play seems poised to confront the deeper implications of radicalisation, systemic racism, and political complicity—but it often pulls back, choosing reconciliation over reckoning. This isn’t necessarily a flaw; RIFT is, after all, a story about connection. But in a festival that thrives on bold, unflinching work, the decision to soften the edges feels like a missed opportunity. The humanity of the piece is undeniable, but the absence of sharper interrogation leaves certain questions hanging in the air.

Still, the performances are compelling across the board. The central duo—siblings divided by ideology but bound by history—bring a raw vulnerability to their roles. Blake Stadniuk’s more literary-focused scholarly brother is matched perfectly by Matt Monaco as the incarcerated brother; their interactions are layered with tension, affection, and the kind of emotional shorthand that only comes from years of shared experience. It’s in these moments, when the script allows them to simply exist in their contradictions, that RIFT finds its most affecting rhythm.

Generous and thoughtful piece of theatre— RIFT prioritises understanding over judgment, and connection over confrontation. It may not shake the foundations, but it leaves a lasting impression, reminding us that the most profound tears are often the ones closest to home. And sometimes, the act of reaching across them is radical enough.

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