In order to really experience LIFE–capital-letters-italics-sort-of-life–LIFE in its most direct, messy, and unmediated form, Jack Kerouac hitched rides, paid bus fare, and drove dilapidated cars around America. The point wasn’t to get anywhere in particular; it was the road itself that was important, the ever-changing panoply of experiences that could be gained through relentless travel. Even while staying in one city Kerouac couldn’t sit still. And his way of life–romanticized and inaccurate as his portrayal of it was–has deeply influenced the generations that have followed him. Take Jack, the hero of David Rubinoff’s one-man play Stuck.

In between taking drugs, drinking immoderately with overly friendly old women, cruising for sex, and trying to get a job as an actor, Jack spends his time looking at his life and philosophizing: "So this morning I get up and wander down to Dundas/To the World’s Biggest Bookstore…/And I look till I find this book…/That explains every fuckin’ dream but mine!" The stanza breaks are deliberate: Workshop West’s new production of Stuck is an extended poem–a drug-, sex-, and fear-induced frenzy of words that will dazzle and terrify anyone within earshot.

Frank Zotter plays Jack, the young would-be actor who’s so down on his luck that he’ll give blowjobs for a "special mix of grass and no-name manmade shit." His rich fantasy life, his minute-to-minute encounters, and his modernity-inspired malaise are all inspired by the Beats, reflected in the jumble of graphic, poetic words that Jack uses to entice and repulse his audience. Zotter’s Jack is touching, a completely committed character who moves with the buoyancy and nervousness of a drug addict. From his entrance, Zotter commands the room–his lines and movements are the sole guiding force in the 75-minute piece, so Zotter has to be sure that the audience is immediately and completely with him. And we are: Zotter is as charming, whimsical, and funny a presence as you could hope for, luring us into Jack’s world before revealing its dark, violent side.

When I read Rubinoff’s script, I was struck by how grim it seemed and wondered whether such a dark and extreme view of Toronto would be difficult to sit through. I don’t easily admit this, but my impression was entirely wrong–Zotter’s timing, energy, and thorough understanding of his character (characters, actually) brings out Stuck’s humour, giving a few cathartic moments of deep laughter before plunging into Jack’s troubled psyche. And if some of the characters Jack encounters seem wildly improbable, they’re fully in keeping with the distorted perspective of a drug addict. For example, Zotter’s characterization of Mona–a grasping, hunched, haggard-voiced former child model who buys Jack drinks in a desperate bid for attention–may be bizarre, but it’s oddly believable if only because Jack believes so strongly in this vision of her.

The set is simple, consisting of two matched and connected blocks that give Zotter an extra level and several nooks to play with. David Fraser’s lighting is inspired, using bare essentials to create different spaces for Jack to travel through: when a row of four lights downstage left goes on and Jack walks through them, for instance, we instantly recognize that we’re back on the street.

And the street is Jack’s natural home. Like the Beats before him, Jack is forever taking to the road, even if he never strays beyond Toronto’s city limits. Through his travels he introduces us to a plethora of strange and wonderful characters–and he’s tops on that list–and by journey’s end, he’s reached a deeply disturbing, moving, and profound understanding of the human experience.