Heavy Like the Weight of a Flame

The title is a great statement of intent: it says, here is a show that will grapple with profound issues, that will ponder elemental forces, that will teach us something about life.

The intent goes beyond the title too. For an hour and 20 minutes, R. Ernie Silva strains with every sinew in his rangy, afro-topped body to provide that full menu of profundities.

His life story is one that all should hear, he implores. From growing up in a family ravaged by heroin in Brooklyn to riding the box cars around the US like a latter-day Jack Kerouac, he is a dreamer, a roadside philosopher, a sage masquerading as a busker.

Alas, this earnest intent is Silva's undoing. His one-man show is so keen to impart some kind of message about finding your own voice that it creaks under its own desperation. His belief that the fates and his dead brothers have conspired to teach him to "listen beyond the strings" of his guitar is sincere and touching, but strangely uninteresting.

Although well-performed, it reeks of a stage school workshop – especially during mimed fights. For someone who busked his way around North America, his guitar playing is also disappointingly shoddy.

Though well-scripted, the show is about half an hour too long. His tales of growing up in Brooklyn—with people dancing on corners—have a Michael Chabon-like quality. Ultimately, however, the weight of the play's pretensions are too heavy for Silva's likeable artistic flame.