When RVA Magazine approached me about becoming their regular theatre critic, I was tickled at the idea. I hadn’t been too involved in the local scene, but I had been very critical – of everything, always. I was curious as to the state of quality.
Regional theatre is a fall guy for numerous jokes in an industry puffed up with a hierarchy conflating audience reach with value. It always has been. I had fallen into the trap of seeing it so. Smug is too small a word for the approach so easy to take when judging the merit of localized performances.
Boy, was I wrong. I’ve learned that lesson after nearly every show I’ve attended – at Firehouse Theatre, Yes, And, Richmond Triangle, VA Rep, Richmond Shakespeare, Cadence, the list goes on. There’s been one consistent lightning rod of intensity that would knock me out of my seat every time he took the stage.
Adam Turck, who we lost this weekend in an act of violence we have yet to have explained, carried with him the gravity of a singularity. Nestled somewhere behind his piercing eyes, woven into the knotted fibers of his shoulders, he emitted power. He devoured attention effortlessly. He had me riveted in any character he portrayed and quickly became one of my favorite actors.
There’s a rush you get when you watch a talent explode on stage. You know you are witnessing an artist that has trained themselves to exhibit every nuance of potency while delivering exactly what the playwright imagined – and then some. I have sat in awe of the threat he could wordlessly convey – in the way a Christopher Walken, Willem Defoe, or Harvey Keitel have been renowned for. And then, with scripted words, would back up that physical control with a verbal supernova. I would sit and mentally bet on his success while absorbing the cosmic radiation of his presence. He was the crack in the dam, the whistling valve in the pressure of narrative conflict on any stage he stood. Magnetic and explosive.
Last month, I noticed him sitting a couple rows ahead of me at a matinee showing of Waitress. The play was in its last scene of the last act and I debated whether to introduce myself. I’m not much for going out of my way to fraternize with the actors I critique for fear of becoming biased, but I would make an exception. Post ovations, I gathered my things with an eye trained to my periphery lest he slip away without getting a chance to shake his hand. When I did make my way to him, I briefly explained I was the guy fanboy-ing over him in RVA Magazine. I expected the confident star pose of an ego in the sun but was greeted with a soft spoken thanks. There was a warmth as beautiful as his performances that were terrifying. The exchange was brief, humble, and nearly confused by the unexpected attention he was receiving. I was disarmed.
We talked about getting together to discuss film and stage, just shoot the shit, and I left with a smile. “What a classy guy” I commented to my wife as we left the theatre. I proceeded to give her a long winded breakdown of my favorite performances of his, and why I thought this dude would get discovered nationally soon and “you’re going to remember that handshake just now”.
When I heard about his passing yesterday, I knew these chats were never going to happen. I felt robbed. I considered his colleagues that have been inspired by him, elevated by him, that have grown with him. My heart breaks for the entire Richmond community of players. The friendships left in suspension at this moment of time will be the hardest parts of course. There is no professional concern that can overtake the loss of a good friend, and from the outpouring I’ve seen online, there were plenty. My heart breaks for his family and non-threatre friends too. I’m sure they were as proud of him as anyone involved in his art was as well.
I didn’t know him well, but I have been and always will be a fan. He made me fall in love with Richmond’s potential again. Thank you Adam.
Main photo by Bill Sigafoos, Ashley Thompson and Adam Turck at Firehouse Theatre July 2024
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