Kenrex ★★★★★

Kenrex, written by Jack Holden (performer) and Ed Stambollouian (director) and accompanied by John Patrick Elliott’s live soundtrack, is a stage adaptation of the true story behind Kenneth Rex McElroy, an untouchable ‘town bully’. The story is told in plainly titled chapters, and Jack Holden performs every character skilfully against the hazy backdrop of 1970s Missouri, in a small town called Skidmore.

To begin, Kelly Burke and James Sobol Kelly provide the context for this story via tape recorder that David Bairn (the town attorney) is listening back to, similar to the podcasts one might be used to hearing True Crime on. The script cuts between this recording and the physical retelling of the story. After Kenrex’s string of charges for assault, shooting, grooming, rape, and theft (escaping punishment every time with dodgy lawyer McFadden), it’s his attempted murder of the shopkeeper that triggers the community of Skidmore to realise their power in numbers and fight the system that fought them. It seems impossible to incarcerate him, and to this day, Kenrex’s killer is unknown due to a wall of silence from the Skidmore people. The play spreads their message of community and solidarity in style, ending with a powerful, didactic epilogue that will no doubt leave you feeling exhilarated.

So, what makes Kenrex worth watching on stage? Why not read about it or listen to the story? Because Jack Holden’s performance is wonderfully athletic and immersive, John Patrick Elliott’s soundtrack is sensational, and the story stands relevant for theatres now and forever. Staging it as a one-man show alienates the characters to an acceptable degree, ensuring the people they’re based on aren’t theatricised out of reality or turned into glamorous depictions of who they actually were. The show offers as much detail as you need to understand the story and gives you the space to chew on its poignant message of community solidarity. With a foot-stompingly good soundtrack alongside it, what better way to spread a message of unity?

Holden plays at least 12 distinct characters and executes a demanding performance with ease. Of all Holden’s incarnations, Kenrex is the most unnerving, and McFadden is the most charming. His introduction to Kenrex is perfectly drawn out compared to the animated introduction to the rest of the Skidmore bunch. The first of Kenrex’s appearances is reminiscent of Frankenstein’s monster learning to walk: macabre and unearthly. Holden has an unbelievable range; he’s impossible to look away from. He holds you with engaging delivery; all characters become identifiable in small ways: Kenrex McElroy leans into his left lung and breathes deeply, painfully; Trina McElroy speaks with aggression, Holden’s depiction of her heart-wrenching at times; McFadden’s falseness is all in his nasal voice and wide-toothed grin; Bo Bowenkamp is bow-legged behind the grocery counter, and much more. Holden’s performance is just remarkable, and he does his own set changes too! The man has so much to remember; it’s a treat to watch Holden revel in his element – the story he’s telling is his thrilling, evocative canvas.

Accompanied by the fusion of John Patrick Elliott’s rock ‘n’ roll guitar and twangy banjo, his original take on bluegrass/Americana music ensures that Skidmore is a town that’s fully developed and realised for the stage too, and a town that every viewer will connect with. By composing an intricate score that everybody can tap their feet to, the message of community and solidarity resonates wildly. He doesn’t just perform his music for the back row, but for the real people that this story is for and about. The soundtrack makes Kenrex the spectacle that it is, and John Patrick Elliott is a real master of his trade. Not only is the music top-notch, but all technical elements are spectacular. Pick-up trucks are referred to as a symbol of Skidmore, a motif visualised by Joshua Pharo’s innovative lighting design. Two lights are stuck to the back wall, positioned to look like headlights. When they glow a bright orange beam, Holden is no longer identifiable as himself but becomes a transfigurative vessel for all characters to speak through.

At times, you wonder if more bodies on stage would help this story, but the great thing about the writing and Ed Stambollouian’s direction is that one body on stage makes all the action far more compelling. You are forced to hang onto every word and each movement to get the drama, and Jack Holden is so captivating there’s no reason to look away. However, silhouette is an effective workaround for the obstacles that a one-man show inevitably faces. When Trina and Kenrex meet, Trina is singing The Star-Spangled Banner, innocently and nervously, just 14. When the drone beneath this anthem rises and becomes invasive, Trina eerily walks ‘offstage’ and transforms into a looming Kenrex, watching her in the crowd, as a gobo of the female silhouette fades into Trina’s spotlight. The chilling feeling this moment gives you would not land in the same way if two people were performing; this action takes a while to complete, as it’s a sole actor, but this slow pace adds to its eeriness. It’s clear that the creatives behind Kenrex have an impressive knowledge of technical theatre – these elements are almost actors in their own right.

Kenrex is a show that relates to the many blue-collar communities that have fallen, and continue to fall, through the cracks of American society and the justice system. Set at a time when the Cold War had peaked and working people had been left with economic failure and fallout, this show reopens a dialogue about the US justice system and what justice really means. Its relevance now, of course, with Trump’s legally tarnished presidency, is in its desire to build community and rise up for justice. David Bairn, the attorney, says, ‘Justice is the same wherever you end up,’ and it’s this message of global understanding that makes Kenrex special. Ed Stambollouian’s co-writing and direction mean that the story never strays from its themes, and everything on stage is utilised to its maximum ability. Microphone stands that once represented people become rifles and machetes, and the unplugging of their wires by the end as the community falls strong and silent is powerful imagery. Kenrex is a clever, metaphorical masterpiece.