By Shawn Macdonald. Directed by Katrina Dunn. A Touchstone Theatre presentation at Performance Works on Saturday, November 21. Continues until November 28

The desire for human connection is at the heart of Demon Voice, but its characters are hard to believe in, let alone feel for.

Shawn Macdonald’s new script brings together a disparate group of people. Anna is a judge who has an unexpected encounter with someone from her past. Mike, still fully committed to a sexless marriage, finds himself increasingly drawn to his new lover, Rachel. Pete, a recently released ex-con, searches the streets for Darryl, his closest friend from prison. A burn victim recounts memories of her sister.

I can’t reveal all the connections between the characters without giving away too many of the show’s secrets. But while some of these are satisfying, others seem improbable—and much too convenient. Too often, the characters feel like positions in a philosophical debate rather than flesh-and-blood people. When Pete espouses love between men as an antidote for masculine brutality, he’s little more than a mouthpiece for Macdonald’s ideas. And for someone smart enough to be a judge, Anna seems awfully clueless about everything from prison life (she can’t believe that men who aren’t gay would have sex with other men) to addiction (she foists wine on a recovering alcoholic).

Macdonald is exploring the ways in which intimacy forces people to confront their shadow sides, but, thankfully, he frequently punctures the darkness with humour. The brittle Anna gets many of the best lines. “You apologized to a lawyer? That’s like apologizing to Satan,” she says, and later, expressing her distaste for kissing: “It is just fucking gross, okay?”

Under Katrina Dunn’s direction, the performances are a mixed success. William MacDonald gives Pete toughness, sincerity, and understated humour. Patrick Keating avoids street-person clichés to create a plausible and sympathetic Darryl. Stephanie Belding (Rachel), Kevin K. James (Mike), and Gwynyth Walsh (Anna) all do their best with characters who are underdeveloped or inconsistent. But Katharine Venour has a truly thankless role as Sara, the burn victim, who occupies a lonely and largely symbolic territory rarely broached by the others.

With its maps, blueprints, and circuit boards providing a backdrop to spacious architectural structures, David Roberts’s set suggests the characters’ search for connection. But ultimately, with its cool colours and metal grids, it’s a world that is emotionally inaccessible.