The Last Epistle of Tightrope Time: Walter Borden redefines who we were, who we are, and who we want to be
10 Oct 2023

by Drew Rowsome - Photos by Stoo Metz

The Last Epistle of Tightrope Time begins with an elderly man in a work uniform wandering to the side of the stage. No introduction or spotlight but a presence, belying his apparent humility, so large that the anticipatory hush that occurs as theatrical magic begins, silences the audience. He gives a sly smile, pleased that we are all gathered, secure in the knowledge that we will be moved, enlightened and awed. A nod and he vanishes through a stage door so that the introductory business can be dispensed with. His entrance is similarly simple. He walks onto the deceptively simple stage and unpacks his lunchbox and a handful of books within a small structure, a toolbooth or a security gate, centerstage. Then he steps forward and begins. Walter Borden (CHILD-ISH, Lilies, Harlem Duet, Gerontophilia) eases into an extraordinary mixture of poetry, theatre, monologues and art that gains a relentless mesmerizing momentum. His rich sonorous voice filling the theatre, the ideas dancing, sliding their way hypnotically into our minds.

Very quickly, I realized the futility of taking notes. The words are impossibly dense and impeccably precise, and Borden rides them or drives them, demanding attention be paid in the moment. He is sharing his life, lives, and the universe itself. "I want to say something to the people of the diaspora. Aka, the family." He laments that there is so little space between the dates on a gravestone, not enough to chart what that time means. He urges us to "redefine who we were, who we are, and who we want to be." The words are allusive, sometimes ascending into sonic joy over the way the syllables are enunciated, sometimes blunt and bitter. Always with a comic edge and with a twinkle in his eyes. At times speaking directly to us as versions of himself, at other times assuming the mantle of characters who are also aspects of himself. Or who he was, or is, or wants or wanted to be. It is a remarkable journey with the connections not always obvious, even with carefully connecting metaphors, but when he unrolls a quilt, points out the patches that make up the whole, and informs us that "it's the stitches" that hold it all together: we understand on a gut level.

Borden began writing in 1974 and first performed this semi-autobiographical one-man show in 1986, then titled Tightrope Time Ain’t Nuthin’ More Than Some Itty Bitty Madness Between Your Twilight & Your Dawn. When I had the good fortune to interview Borden, he described his acting process as "go[ing] along step by step . . . pull[ing] out of my accumulated stuff to accommodate what is being asked of me . . . slowly, slowly, I put it together into a skin, weaving it together, pulling it up over myself and then zip up and there you are." Borden has spent almost five decades pulling these words up over himself and the stitches, the zipper, does not show. The set around Borden transforms through video projections, sound effects and recordings. They are best when they are simple and the focus remains on Borden. Occasionally, particularly towards the end, the production takes on a grandiose scifi quality that adds an unusual but not unwelcome flavour. Director Peter Hinton-Davis (The Hooves Belonged to the Deer, Bombay Black) and the design crew, Andy Moro and Adrienne Danrich O'Neill, walk a tightrope of their own, using visuals and sound to enhance and support Borden's powerful words. They create an entire universe soaring across the stage and Borden is still not upstaged.

The seemingly frail man we first meet is unrecognizable by the time Borden steps forward to bask in a well-deserved standing ovation. He has taken us into his confidence, confided, chided and confessed with an intimacy that only the theatre can access. If the central metaphor of the tightrope only appears at the very end, we will chalk it up to the long gestation period and hope that the "last" in the title is false. That we will get a further epistle that exploits the circus/daredevil metaphor. Because, although The Last Epistle of Tightrope Time is tightly constructed and executed, it feels as if it is still organically growing, evolving, still redefining. As Borden morphs into a brimstone and fire preacher wearing rainbow flags, a streetwise hooker, himself as a child, and a fabulously fey entertainer, they are all indelibly defined. I would testify that Borden's facial structure changed as markedly as each character's physical demeanour, but that may have been a trick of lighting or, more likely, theatrical prowess. They are all patches in the quilt of life, all the gay, black, human glory of the diasporas that Borden, that we, are part of. And they are all vibrantly alive in that space between the dates on a gravestone.