Jonathan Spector’s Eureka Day becomes a timely play that sharply critiques rampant, radical liberalism. He cleverly sets this satirical jab in the Learning Commons/library of a fictional private school (Eureka Day) in Berkeley, California. (Please note that in Ontario, the term is no longer “library” but “Learning Commons”.)
Why is it clever?
The argument and infighting begin in a building where young children are meant to learn. It is the adults who will complete the learning (we hope!) by the end of the play.
Five parent members meet to discuss an issue after an unseen parent suggests amending the school’s admission form. The school prides itself on being as ‘inclusive’ as possible, ensuring that all voices in its community are heard and often to the point of insane hilarity. Under School Board President Don (Kevin Bundy), it is the consensus not to hurt, harm or damage the fragile emotional vulnerability of any member of the school community. Every school member must be on board with this motto.
The five agree that any changes to the form must be decided unanimously. The irony? It’s not. What follows is, at times, an uproarious, uncontrolled free-for-all, with everyone picking and choosing appropriate and acceptable vernacular while trying not to hurt anyone’s self-esteem or feelings about decisions regarding changes to the school’s admission process.
Wealthy father Eli (Jake Epstein) is an attentive listener who wants to hear what everyone has to say. The board’s only Black member, Carina (Sophia Walker), strongly voices her view that the board is ineffectual in its dealings. Suzanne (Sarah McVie), while saying she wants to hear what everyone has to say, subtly yet insistently pushes to get her own way. Meiko (Stephanie Sy) knits and listens with focus and purpose. While this board of directors/parents may appear to have it all together, surprises and revelations make the audience think otherwise when the truth comes out.
The plot intensifies when a mumps outbreak among one of the students at the school forces parents and the community to confront the vaccination requirement. This sparks an outcry that spirals out of control among some parents who refuse to comply. Threats, shouting, yelling, and accusations among the five characters are only a microscopic glimpse of what the fifteen families at this private school must be experiencing.
Steve Lucas and Beckie Morris create a strikingly accurate representation of an elementary school library in the set design. Attention to detail is evident right down to the children’s books on the shelves, the tiny chairs, and a library work table split into four. Alphabet posters spill onto the walls of the Coal Mine auditorium. However, the posters only go up to the letter Q. Where are the others?
In his sound design, Michael Wanless has aptly recorded children’s voices during morning announcements, along with the sounds of children playing outside before the morning bell rings. Nic Vincent’s lighting captures the ambience of an institutional school setting, right down to the overhead fluorescent lighting, which shifts colour during blackouts, denoting the passage of time. Laura Delchiaro’s costumes fittingly reflect each character’s social and financial status.
Under Mitchell Cushman’s discerning, smart direction, Jonathan Spector’s crisp, stinging dialogue delivers a deft punch to these individuals’ egos. The characters mean well but become gloriously misdirected and misinformed in their reactions to one another. It has been a long time since I’ve heard an audience laugh this loud and for this long. Without spoiling the plot, pay close attention to the overlapping dialogue and the cruel comments during the online Town Hall. The timing of the action in this scene is PURE COMIC GOLD. Astounding.
As Don, the School Board President, Kevin Bundy aims to please in order to appease everyone. Bundy’s Don dislikes conflict of any sort, whether in the five board members’ meetings or with the other parents. Watch carefully how Bundy handles himself physically when mounting tension is about to blow the lid. Wonderful work. The wealthy Eli (Jake Epstein) and the intently focused knitter Meiko (Stephanie Sy) deliver strong performances as parents who are also ‘friends’ outside their responsibilities at Eureka Day.
Sarah McVie’s Suzanne and Sophia Walker’s Carina both give genuine, realistic performances that remain among the show’s highlights. Their conflicting perspectives on the contentious issue of vaccination versus the onslaught of possibly unfounded anti-vaccination naysayers are thought-provoking. McVie gives a heartrending answer as Suzanne on why she stands on the issue of vaccination as she does. Walker’s Carina is forthright and blunt and also offers convincing evidence on why she stands her ground as well.
In his Director’s Note, Cushman writes how a production of Eureka Day was cancelled by the Trump Kennedy Centre for the Performing Arts after Donald Trump appointed himself Chairman of the Centre.
Hmmm…
For some reason, I’m connecting in my mind the Centre’s cancelling of Spector’s play to the Freedom to Read Banned Books in bookstores and libraries.
We have to remember that context matters a great deal in appreciating diverse art forms.
Coal Mine Theatre’s Toronto premiere of Eureka Day offers much-needed context for understanding this contentious issue of vaccination, which remains prevalent and relevant today. Think of the current measles outbreak in some Toronto schools.
Go see Eureka Day. Let’s keep the discussion going.
Running time: approximately one hour and 40 minutes with no intermission.
The production runs to March 1, 2026, at Coal Mine Theatre, 2076 Danforth Avenue, Toronto. For tickets: coalminetheatre.com/eureka-day.
COAL MINE THEATRE presents
Eureka Day by Jonathan Spector
Directed by Mitchell Cushman
Associate Director: Abigail Whitney
Set Designers: Steve Lucas and Deckie Morris
Lighting Designer: Nic Vincent
Costume Designer: Laura Delchiaro
Sound Designer: Michael Wanless
Stage Manager: Meghan Speakman
Performers: Kevin Bundy, Jake Epstein, Sarah McVie, Stephanie Sy, Sophia Walker, Abigail Whitney
