A bold, bracing play about language, race, identity, being a flawed human and consequences when they screw-up. The play is vibrant with all sorts of surprises. Most work, some don’t but the effort is remarkable. Liz Appel is a playwright whose voice I want to hear again.
Definition of “wight”: wight is derived from Old English wiht, meaning “living being, creature”. The related Old Saxon wiht means “thing, demon”.
A synonym for wight: “a human being; `wight’ is an archaic term. synonyms: creature. individual, mortal, person, somebody, someone, soul.”
Pronounced as “White” which in the context of the play can be tricky and apt.
The Story. I’m going to use the theatre’s synopsis of the show with some of my own input:
“It’s Halloween 2024, (in Connecticut), one week before the U.S. election. Anita Knight, a brilliant and ambitious Yale academic, has gathered her closest friends to help her prepare for the job interview of a lifetime. Her husband arrives, late to the party, setting off a chain of events no one sees coming.
In this biting social satire, two couples confront each other and themselves, and no one will ever be the same. As their carefully constructed stories unravel, dark forces threaten friendships, marriages, and perhaps even the fate of humanity itself.”
The Production. The audience sits on the four sides of the theatre with the playing area in the middle. Joshua Quinlan’s set of Anita (Rachel Leslie) and Danny’s (Ari Cohen) stylish kitchen has an island in the middle with a sink, running water, lots of counter space and a shiny floor. Quinlan has also created private pockets of the set—an alcove for the fridge over there, another one on the other side of the stage for a chair by a window. These secret pockets worked a treat in Quinlan’s set of Uncle Vanya for Crow’s Theatre, not so much for Rosmersholm. One is primed to appreciate these secret pockets on a Quinlan set—they are deliberately created to suggest a mystery.
Director Chris Abraham begins the production with a boom, literally and figuratively. A booming sound effect announces the beginning and we better brace ourselves. Kudos to sound designer Thomas Ryder Payne for choosing the right sound to grab one’s attention. The lighting by Imogen Wilson illuminates the floor as startlingly as the sound effect. With each ‘boom’ there is a lighting effect until the production ‘eases’ into the easy, quick banter of Anita and her two guests.
Celine (Sochi Fried) and her husband Bing (Richard Lee) have come over to prepare dinner and to help prepare Anita for the interview. Bing can’t find the pepper and no matter where he’s told to look, they never find it.
Bing and Celine are bickering. Celine is pointed in her comments to him. Bing is easy going to a point. Bing is a colleague of Anita’s at Yale. He’s bright, knows how to read a room and finesse a conversation. He arrived in the U.S from China when he was 17 to study at prestigious schools. Celine, his wife, is white.
Anita wants Bing and Celine to be brutal in their challenging of her presentation to the selection committee. She wants them to draw blood. The salad is made, the dressing poured and tossed. Danny arrives home from court-he’s a lawyer defending a man wrongfully accused and jailed for 22 years.
Initially Danny watches and listens to the conversations of the others, and eats—he didn’t have lunch and he’s hungry. His questions are astute. It’s clear that of all of the characters, Danny’s work as a lawyer does something while the others philosophize and theorize about issues.
In Act I each character does something, unbeknownst to the others, that will have consequences in Act II. As information is revealed, ideas and attitudes expressed, it’s clear these characters are at odds with who knows then, mainly because they don’t listen to each other. They are flawed and human. In the words of Lillian Hellman: “People change and forget to tell each other.” And when the characters discover how much their friend/partner has changed, it’s startling.
Director Chris Abraham puts the characters and the audience through a bracing theatrical exercise as we watch from a distance, sizing up each character, weighing what they say; noting the truth or not, and where our allegiances lay. And it’s to Liz Appel’s keen abilities as a playwright, that we keep up with her observations and arguments.
Liz Appel has written a biting satire that skewers the woke, land acknowledgements, the court system, the academic world and its inequities, personal agendas in relationships and the tyranny of language and how it’s been misused. Her language and arguments for all her characters are laser sharp. She is a playwright who is white, who has written full-bodied characters who are not white with their own issues of race and class. Liz Appel turns the notion of voice appropriation on its head when she writes as clearly about Anita as a black woman of mixed race, as she does about Danny who is perceived as white but does not identify as that, who has his own angst with identity. And she writes as clearly of Bing’s issues as an Asian man with his own inner turmoil. Rather than ‘voice appropriation’ I quote Tomson Highway who called it ‘voice illumination.’ Liz Appel puts us in the heart and mind of all her characters, not just the ones who look like me. The acting from the cast of four is exceptional, emotional, committed, energetic and compelling. The arguments are offered intensely and with rigor.
One might quibble that ‘people don’t talk like that’ as they listen to Danny give a very long monologue that grips you by the throat, about the system, his inner turmoil as a white man with other issues. The arguments from other characters might also be described as “people don’t talk like that.” Well, these characters do. We’ve heard them in our theatres/life as they spill their guts at the many slights they endure; as they try and be as politically correct as possible; as they make language into a vice that can’t express ideas anymore because they are terrified of hurting someone’s feelings. I also crinkled my eyebrows at Danny’s revelation and the timing of it. Perhaps it seemed a bit too contrived and his unravelling in Act II a bit messy. Still lots to chew on.
Comment. Wights is Liz Appel’s professional debut as a playwright. It’s astonishing. She takes no prisoners with her focus on the phoniness in institutions, justice systems, race relations, human relations, communications and language. This is an astonishing debut. More please, soon.
When I’m in New York I love going to Lincoln Center Theater. André Bishop, the Producing Artistic Director of Lincoln Center Theater, programs a consistently bracing, artful list of plays and musicals at the theatre since he began there more than 30 years ago. André Bishop has nurtured and encouraged a who’s who of playwrights from Tom Stoppard, David Hare, Wendy Wasserstein, Ayad Akhtar and Sarah Ruhl to name a tiny few. I get an education in the artform when I go to that theatre. It’s also afforded me some “stories from the audience”. Here are two to begin the new year with a laugh and a touch of a furrowed brow.
Uncle Vanya.
Written by Anton Chekhov
A new version by Heidi Schreck
Directed by Lila Neugebauer
Starring Steve Carell
I saw a production of Uncle Vanya with Steve Carell as Uncle Vanya; modern dress; starry cast certainly with Steve Carell. It was a Saturday matinee audience. They are different from an evening audience.
I had a great seat, four seats in from the center aisle about 5 rows from the front. Three stylish women of a certain age sat beside me from the aisle in. They sat and settled, sort of. The woman to my right had a malleable plastic bag of nuts she bought in the lobby. She ate the nuts one at a time. Such discipline-not a handful of nuts, but one at a time. Her hand slowly burrowed into the bag, pulled out one nut and ate it slowly. This continued beyond the show starting. Slowly the hand burrowed deeper and deeper into the bag, making a bit of noise—crunch etc. Until I had to lean towards her and whisper: “Are you almost finished?” She immediately put the bag away without comment.
The show progressed. Uncle Vanya railed against the Professor (a wonderful Alfred Molina) about his lot in life. Dr. Astrov (William Jackson Harper) lamented how tired he was, but never sat down to talk to Marina (Mia Katigbak) the housekeeper to indicated he was tired. Sonia (Alison Pill) pined for the Astrov. I always get heartsick for her. The woman on the end fussed in her purse. She fussed so much in her purse that the two people in front of her kept turning around to try and get her attention to STOP!!
At intermission, the woman in front of the fusser turned and asked in an annoyed voice, “What were you doing for the whole act. You disturbed people with your fussing.” The ‘fusser’ said in a hurt/annoyed voice: “I was looking for my medication!” Hmm I didn’t think the production was that stressful. She was looking for her medication? Yikes.
At Intermission the trio of women left to buy more snacks. When they returned the woman in the middle tried and failed to open her bottle of water. She fussed about that. The woman on the aisle opened it for her.
Act II began. All quiet for a little while. Astrov brought his maps to impress the beautiful Elena (Anika Noni Rose). There were lots of bells and whistles with the production: rainfall, Sonia laid down in a puddle on the stage. Stunning.
The woman on the aisle, however, was pre-occupied with her purse, or rather something in the purse. This was a purse of many zippered compartments and she carefully, slowly opened every one individually, rummaged in the depths of each compartment, couldn’t find what she wanted, slowly, carefully zipped up each compartment and then moved to the next compartment. The couple in front of her moved to two seats in front of them, to get away from the noise of the rummaging.
Elena and Sonia confide in each other. Sonia is disappointed Astrov has no feelings for her because he’s smitten by Elena. Vanya is disappointed at the turn of events in his life—all his doing. I’m gritting my teeth because the woman on the aisle began looking in each compartment again, for something desperately needed: her meds? A Kleenex? The Rosetta Stone? No. She finally found it; her compact. In the middle of Act II of Uncle Vanya in a dark theatre, this woman needed to open her compact to look in the mirror, to put on lipstick and freshen her face-powder. I wonder if she has to practice being this stupid, ill-mannered, self-absorbed and witless. There was not enough light for her to see, so she leaned into the aisle, hoping to catch the light of the aisle lighting. I’m wondering for whom this makeup touch-up was for: the nut muncher beside me? The weak-woman-who-could-not-unscrew-her-water-bottle-cap beside her? Uncle Vanya? The make-up applied, the woman carefully put everything back in its proper compartment, the zipper slowly zipped, the purse carefully laid in the lap and the hands neatly folded on top of the purse. This ‘performance’ was almost as good as on stage—almost.
When the show was over and the bows were to begin, the woman on the aisle hauled her body slowly out of the seat (not applauding anyone) as she slowly beat a lurching retreat up the aisle. The other two women stayed, applauded weakly and then slowly left, leaving behind a mess of programs, inserts exhorting, half-filled water bottles, empty nut bags on the floor over which the rest us slid and trampled through as we left.
Civilization as we know it, is doomed.
McNeal
Written by Ayad Akhtar
Directed by Bartlett Sher
Starring Robert Downey Jr.
It seems this need to cast celebrities that has infected Broadway has finally caught up to Lincoln Center Theater. Steve Carell in Uncle Vanya and Robert Downey Jr. in McNeal.
McNeal is about a celebrated author, Jacob McNeal, who has won the Nobel Prize for Literature. He’s prickly, a bad friend, bad husband and bad father. Is he based on Saul Bellow? Bellow is referenced.
It’s also about Artificial Intelligence. Jacob McNeal asks his ‘devices’ to re-write two classic works “in the style of Jacob McNeal” and the result is a book that is published. I thought Robert Downey Jr. gave a performance created by Artificial Intelligence, only without the ‘intelligence.’ I thought it was mannered, full of ticks and idiosyncrasies. Andrea Martin played McNeal’s literary agent. I had no idea what she was doing in that part either, except it seemed a send-up of anything that resembled a real person—earnest and phony.
However, again, it was a guy in the audience that got my eyebrows raised. He sat on the aisle baseball cap, windbreaker, comfy shoes and pants. And he bought about $100 worth of snacks from the bar/concession area in the lobby, which he distributed to some of the people in his row and the row behind him: licorice, Jr. Mints, M & Ms a bag of nuts, bottles of water.
On stage was a huge cell phone with the date (Oct. 10) and the time—both did not reflect the actual date and time of the performance. “Snack-man” called the usher over. He wanted to know the significance of the date and time on the huge cell phone. The usher, smart, knowledgeable about audiences, told him that all would be revealed in the play—that the date and time played a part of the story. The usher went back to her post at the back of the theatre. “Snack-man” began eating the snacks.
Now close to show time. “Snack-man” calls the usher over again, this time he’s showing he’s learned a thing or two since his last encounter with the usher. He says: I’ve paid $250 for the seats, indicating a few people beside him. What’s this story about?” I sucked air. I wonder, ‘why would you even attend if you haven’t done any homework? Found out about the story/play? The usher leaned in and quietly answered him….I assume she sized him up and did give him a short precis. He was a guy who bought the tickets because of the celebrity playing the lead.
The house lights dimmed. The play began. The audience became quiet except for the noise, “forest-fire” of crackling of cellophane from the wrappers, munching of the snacks and gurgling of drinking coming from “Snack-Man” on the aisle. It lasted the whole show. People turned and looked at him as the noise continued. No one told him to be quiet. At the end he left a pile of garbage that was ankle deep in the row.
Every program has an insert that is longer than the program so that the first word of the insert is prominent. The word is PLEASE in bold and in a huge font. That gets our attention. The rest of the message urges us pointedly to PLEASE turn off our cell phones to ensure they don’t go off in the play and disturb the actors and your fellow patrons.
Here is my question: Why should we turn off our damned cell phones when every theatre encourages the cacophony caused by the snacks we buy in the lobby and take into the theatre, to go undeterred during the play? Do they think a cell phone going off suddenly and stopped (if we are lucky) just as quickly, is worse than the consistent crinkle, rustling, chomping, gurgling and munching during the play? Nope.
Open the bar and concessions at 9 am and have the folks gorge until showtime and then, nothing is allowed in that theatre except water—in a carton. How about that? Do ya think folks would stamp their feet and leave if they can’t graze as if they are at the movies (where the sound is 10 times louder than needed) or at a sporting event where silence doesn’t matter. Huh?
Jenifer Toksvig is a neurodivergent theatremaker who challenges traditional theatre models, advocating for greater accessibility and inclusivity through her process, The Copenhagen Interpretation
Theatre: Everyone is Welcome Summarised by Jenifer Toksvig
Everyone is welcome at the theatre, unless you cannot see yourself in the social group ‘theatregoers’ because of assumptions around: • audience identity, eg ‘highbrow’; • theatre experience, eg ‘boring’; • subject relatability, eg ‘sanctimonious’.
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot, in general and/or in the moment: • attend at one of the limited available dates and times; • afford the costs, time and energy necessary for attendance; • physically leave your house and travel; • be confident of your own personal safety, eg when travelling, or at the venue; • tolerate possible security searches; • physically access all public areas of the venue, eg performance space, toilets; • comfortably be in public, potentially in a crowd; • be punctual (note: late access, where permissible/possible, may not be acceptable); • be confident that you will be able to stay for the duration; • manage unexpected occurrences.
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot: • find anything that appeals to you in the limited productions available to you; • make provision for your own access support needs and those of any dependants with you, including anything expected (eg regulating temperature) and unexpected (eg first aid); • risk potential harm from performance content – psychological/emotional (eg subject matter or non-consensual participation) or physical (eg allergens).
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot purchase a ticket for a seat or space: • that can accommodate you, your belongings and/or mobility aids, and any required companions, comfortably enough to stay for the duration; • that will afford you an accessible experience, eg a clear view of sign language interpretation; • at a performance where any access support needs (eg audio description) can be met, if that provision meets your specific needs (eg variations of ‘relaxed’ performance).
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot attend because of issues with any items or mobility aids you would need to bring with you, including: • transportation, safety and/or security of your belongings; • impact of being able, or required, to store items in a cloakroom; • accessibility in good time within the building, eg to use the toilet or attend to any dependants; • need to efficiently move anything blocking the passage of others, including yourself/any dependants; • suitability of items, eg things that make no noise.
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot remember in good time: • that you are going to the theatre; • the arrangements made; • what to bring, eg tickets, and where to find them.
Note: terms such as ‘acceptable’ and ‘reasonable’ are typically defined by common understanding (of which everyone may not be aware), policed by audience members (which could include anyone) and enforced accordingly by venue staff. There is no opportunity for explanation or reasoning at the moment of policing or enforcement. The consequences of being deemed to be in breach are immediate tacit or overt shaming in situ, and may also include untimely ejection from the venue and further public shaming on social media.
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot, for the duration of the performance, be comfortable enough to remain: • seated (note: early exit may or may not be possible/acceptable); • focused on the performance; • motionless, except for typically sanctioned movements (eg applause) and reasonable momentary self-care adjustments; • silent, except for typically sanctioned noises (eg applause) and reasonable noises (eg a momentary cough).
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot optimally: • see and hear the performance, or engage with replacements, eg audio description or sign language interpretation; • tolerate sensory experience of the performance as designed.
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot avoid disrupting the experience of others who are involved in or attending the performance, by methods including: • taking up more than the allotted space; • causing any sensory distraction; • behaviour that might be interpreted as disrespectful; • preventing the performance from being delivered exactly as prepared.
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot avoid apparently or actually: • capturing the performance using technology; • using technology for reasons unconnected to the performance; • being indifferent to unreasonable disruptions of which you are the cause.
Everyone is welcome, unless you cannot, in response to the performance: • applaud as anticipated for an acceptable duration; • limit spontaneous expressions of emotion to reasonable, momentary utterances at acceptable times, ideally only where collective expression is premeditated by design; • stand up if it is necessary to continue your own experience, or noteworthy that you are not standing, when others do; • cause only acceptable, momentary disruption where symptoms of, for example, a mental health condition are triggered.
Everyone is welcome to experience sparks of creativity and thought. This welcome is limited to: • experiencing only this specifically crafted telling of the story; • engaging only one time per ticket, regardless of your situation at that time; • typically having a predominantly unaccompanied experience.
This welcome does not include the right, during the experience, to: • seek clarification, eg have something repeated or get more information; • comment on your experience, or explore other versions/perspectives with those who are present (audience or company) or absent; • contribute to the creation of the work, except by limited invitation, eg invited audience suggestions; • contribute to the performance, except by limited invitation, eg defined audience responses (of which you may not be aware/informed); • join in with, for example, songs, unless by clearly defined invitation, whether or not the production intentionally uses known works to trigger familiarity; • gain any experience, knowledge or understanding of the process of bringing this specific work to performance, outside limited highlights, eg in a programme.
All welcome terminates at the end of the performance, when you are expected to leave the building as quickly and efficiently as possible, including: • retrieving any belongings; • making adequate preparations for yourself, and any dependants with you, for your onward journey.
Many theatres receive public funding, and everyone is welcome to donate money, so we can continue to welcome everyone.
A very late roundup of the last Stratford productions this past season.
Romeo and Juliet
By William Shakespeare
Directed by Sam White
Set and costumes by Sue LePage
Lighting by Louise Guinand
Composer and sound by Debashis Sinha
Choreography by Adrienne Gould
Cast: Graham Abbey
David Collins
Howard Dan
Nick Dolan
Thomas Duplessie
Austin Eckert
Steven Hao
Graham Hargrove
Jessica B. Hill
Jenna-Lee Hyde
Andrew Iles
Jasmine Jones-Ball
John Kirkpatrick
Derek Kwan
Tarique Lewis
Jonathan Mason
Marissa Orjalo
Glynis Ranney
Antoinette Rudder
Vanessa Sears
Michael Spencer-Davis
Emilio Vieira
Scott Wentworth
Rylan Wilkie
Angus Yam
Is it possible to have Romeo and Juliet burnout? Perhaps. If one goes to the theatre a lot and for a long time, those productions of Romeo and Juliet do add up.
Director Sam White’s production started with rhythmic drumming as if to put it in another place and time than in Verona. I loved the pulse of it, but couldn’t figure out the reason. The first scene goes like a bat setting up the intense animosity between the Montague family and the Capulet family. No one can remember the reason for the feud but the animosity still burns bright. The intensity of the anger and instant fighting between Tybalt (a fiery Emilio Vieira) nephew to Lady Capulet, and Mercutio (an athletic Andrew Iles) a friend of Romeo and the Montague family, along with their followers, is so pronounced, it’s a wonder that any member of either household is alive. Truly, how is anyone alive in such fury, which would clear the way for Romeo and Juliet to get on with falling in love and doing what they wanted, without familial interference. But of course, Shakespeare and various inventive directors have other thoughts.
Jonathan Mason was a youthful, boyish Romeo. He was calmed/softened to the feud when he fell in love with Juliet, a sweet and more mature Vanessa Sears. As Paris, Austin Eckert was courtly. Glynis Ranney played the Nurse as dithery and distracted but with a kindness that charmed. Graham Abbey played Capulet and was the angriest reading of that role I’ve ever seen and that was fascinating. One can see how a feud is carried on with that hair-trigger temper. As Lady Capulet, Jessica B. Hill displayed a steeliness that would cope with such a volatile partner.
Yep, it’s possible to have Romeo and Juliet burnout when one searches for words to be positive about a production that was ‘ok’.
Wendy and Peter Pan
Adapted by Ella Hickson
From the book J. M. Barrie
Directed by Thomas Morgan Jones
Set and costumes by Robin Fisher
Lighting by Arun Srinivasan
Composition and sound by Romeo Candido
Choreographer, Jera Wolfe
Cast: Sean Arbuckle
Noah Beemer
Laura Condlln
James Daly
Justin Eddy
Sara-Jeanne Hosie
Cynthia Jimenez-Hicks
Wahsonti:io Kirby
Nestor Lozano Jr.
Marcus Nance
Jake Runeckles
Tara Sky
Agnes Tong
And many others.
Charming, bristling with suppressed angst, and fine performances by Cynthia Jimenez-Hicks as Wendy and Laura Condlln as Hook.
Ella Hicks has put Wendy at the center of her version as is clear from the title. Wendy is first. As played by Cynthia Jimenez-Hicks she is confident, caring, motherly, protective and curious. Her curiosity and sense of adventure grounds her in childhood without her being prissy and over smothering of her brothers, Peter and the lost boys, although there is that sense too.
The revelation is Laura Condlln as Hook. This isn’t a character angry and bitter about the limb lost to the puckish crocodile; this is a woman frustrated at the stupid world she lives in, the disappointments, the decisions that keep her from winning or succeeding. Laura Condlln gives a strong but delicate performance that distinguishes her resentment and disappointments. Every part Condlln plays is full of artistry, subtlety, character and nuance. Riveting. Jake Runeckles as Peter Pan is boyish and easily influenced. This isn’t a character who knows about maturity, which makes sense when he refuses to grow up. This Peter flits from distraction to distraction. That is his charm. Marcus Nance plays several parts, but as the slick crocodile in a stylish contraption that glides across the stage, Nance is dangerous and compelling.
La Cage Aux Folles
Book by Harvey Firestein
Music and lyrics by Jerry Herman
Based on the play by Jean Poiret
Directed by Thom Allison
Choreography by Cameron Carver
Music director, Franiklin Brasz
Set by Brandon Kleiman
Costumes by David Boechler
Lighting by Kimberley Purtell
Sound by Brian Kenny
Cast (selected) Sean Arbuckle
James Daly
Steve Ross
Chris Vergara
And a lot of other talented people.
A campy musical and a production full of heart, compassion and generosity thanks to director Thom Allison and Steve Ross.
This is set in St. Tropez at La Cage aux Folles nightclub. Georges (Sean Arbuckle) is the suave proprietor. There is an in-house chorus of exuberant drag queens in the show, but the star is Zaza, aka Albin (Steve Ross) and life-partner of Georges. Zaza refuses to come out of the dressing room. Feelings have been hurt. Zaza is determined to stay there until Georges convinces Zaza to perform.
Georges’ adult son Jean-Michel announced he is engaged to marry the daughter of the local conservative activist who wants to shut down the drag clubs. Jean-Michel’s future in-laws don’t know about his father and Zaza, who helped raise the young man. The future in-laws want to meet Jean-Michel’s parents. Jean-Michel’s birthmother reneges on showing up, so Albin steps in, to ‘portray’ Jean-Michel’s mother.
There are two scenes in La Cage aux Folles that say everything about the beating heart of director Thom Allison and Steve Ross. The first is of Georges and Albin out for the evening, after Georges calmed down Albin. They sit at a table of a neighbouring bistro, having a drink, talking. Both cross their legs. The pose says everything about how relaxed they are.
Georges is beautifully played by Sean Arbuckle. He is tailored, sophisticated with a dash of panache, a colourful cravat at his throat; a jacket that is attention grabbing, a manner that is subtle.
Albin, played by Steve Ross, with supreme confidence, a sense of being miffed, a touch petulant, is more expansive. His hands flick the air for affect. He wears a light grey suit with a jacket that could be a cape. He wears a wide-brimmed hat, set at an angle, jaunty, haughty. He wears heavy eye-makeup, perhaps because Albin’s alter-ego, Zaza, didn’t take off the makeup after the show. It looks the most natural thing in the world, and it is. I note he does not wear coloured nail polish. I think this is a choice for the actor—perhaps putting it on and taking it off after Zaza’s performance is not feasible for the show. No matter, I thought it was an interesting choice.
What is wonderful about that scene is the naturalness of it; that the denizens of that bit of St. Tropez know this couple and embrace and respect them and Georges and Albin return the love and respect.
The second scene is Albin deciding that he will do his best to help their ungrateful son, Jean-Michel by dressing as a woman to ‘become’ Jean-Michel’s mother. Albin is not dressing in drag for this. He is taking on the persona of a caring, loving, flirty, charming woman who is a mother. Glorious. The difference between the drag and the performance here is the essence of the beating heart of the director, Thom Allison and Steve Ross.
I love this musical that trumpets being who you are no matter what. The message is conveyed with style and wit.
London Assurance
Written by Dion Boucivault
Directed by Antoni Cimolino
Set and lighting by Lorenzo Savoini
Costumes by Francesca Gallow
Composer, Wayne Kelso
Sound by Ranil Sonnadara
Choreographer, Adrienne Gould
Cast: Graham Abbey
Hilary Adams
David Collins
Nick Dolan
Thomas Duplessie
Austin Eckert
Deborah Hay
John Kirkpatrick
Marissa Orjalo
Michael Spencer-Davis
Emilio Viera
Scott Wentworth
Rylan Wilkie
Geraint Wyn Davies
A stylish Restoration Comedy, hilarious, thoughtful, beautifully acted and directed.
A complicated story of an over the hill dandy, Sir Harcourt Courtly, (Geraint Wyn Davies) intends to marry a much younger woman named Grace (Marissa Orjalo), and Sir Harcourt’s playboy son, Charles is wooing Grace as well, unbeknownst to the father. There is also the randy, fun-loving Lady Gay Spanker (an hilarious Deborah Hay) who comes to visit with her doddery but loving husband Adolphus Spanker (Michael Spencer-Davis).
This is a play of comedic style, specific body language and an artificial placement of the voice. The makeup, especially for Sir Harcourt is over the top (I thought Geraint Wyn Davies could do with more rouge and lipstick, but he’s a comedic treat).
As Cool, the stoical servant, Rylan Wilkie is the essence of understatement. He is totally un expressive in keeping a straight face. This guy has seen it all it that household and the secret of being employed is to keep every secret and not let anything slip.
Dandy production.
Salesman in China
Written by Leanna Brodie and Jovanni Sy
Suggested by the memoirs of Arthur Miller and Ying Ruochen
Chinese translation by Fang Zhang
Presented in English and Mandarin with Surtitles.
Directed by Jovanni Sy
Set by Joanna Yu
Costumes by Ming Wong
Lighting by Sophie Tang
Composer and sound designer, Alessandro Juliani
Co-Projection designers, Caroline MacCaul and Sammy Chien (Chimerik)
Cast: George Chiang
Jo Chim
Harriet Chung
Howard Dai
Justin Eddy
Tai Wei Foo
Steven Hao
Phoebe Hu
Ziye Hu
Derek Kwan
Nestor Lozano Jr.
Tom McCamus
Gordon S. Miller
Sarah Orenstein
Adrian Pan
Agnes Tong
Matthew Wang
Asher Albert Waxman
Angus Yam
Harmony Yen
A play about two cultures that couldn’t be more different, that bridges the differences and joins the similarities in humanity, compassion, memories and the love of theatre.
Playwrights Leanna Brodie and Jovanni Sy have written a beautifully moving play about an almost improbable situation: a production of Arthur Miller’s play Death of a Salesman to be played in Beijing in Mandarin, directed by Arthur Miller. I say “almost improbable” because it actually happened in 1983. It starred the celebrated Chinese actor Ying Ruocheng as Willie Lowman.
We find out from Leanna Brodie and Jovanni Sy’s play that in China there was no such thing as insurance or something called a ‘travelling salesman’, two of the key aspects of Arthur Miller’s play. What we find out from Salesman in China is that the play is less about Miller’s play and more about the backstories of the participants; it’s about the haunted memories of a son for his disappointed father; it’s about wives who gave up careers; it’s about the effects of the Cultural Revolution in China; it’s about theatre, art, the importance of wigs and makeup in China and the less importance in America. And it’s about cultural differences and how they sometimes get in the way. This production is a towering achievement almost in every way.
Ying Ruocheng (Adrian Pang) had been ‘rehabilitated’ during the Cultural Revolution in China and was unable to act. After his ‘rehabilitation’ he was anxious to play Willie Loman. Adrian Pang played Ying Ruocheng with grace, reverence and respect. Ying Ruocheng revered Arthur Miller (Tom McCamus) and was accommodating and even obsequious around him. Ying Ruocheng was haunted by the specter of his disapproving father. As Ying Ruocheng prepared for the part of Willie, who blindly encouraged of his sons without seeing their limitations, Ying Ruocheng was visited by the memory of his father, berating him for not being better, for being deluded about his abilities. Ying Ruocheng was also urged by his strong-willed wife Wu Shiliang, a forceful, commanding Jo Chim, to stand up to Miller and not be such a pushover. Through all of this Adrian Pang as Ying Ruocheng was so moving, conflicted and eager to do right by the play and the part. He knew how important this event was to his country, his career and his self-esteem.
Arthur Miller, as played by Tom McCamus, was irritable, stubborn and perhaps the essence of a stereotypical rude American who was imperious to his Chinese hosts. Miller knew how his play should be played in America, but clueless about how the Chinese might approach it and didn’t care. He refused to learn Mandarin, or even approach some of the words and didn’t make an effort to really learn the names of the cast or the stage manager. Miller was adamant there be no wigs or garish makeup, and had to be told that that was how theatre was in China—they used wigs they thought were appropriate and they used makeup.
In one small, exquisite scene Derek Kwan played a wigmaker who arrived carrying the wig for a character. He was emotional, passionate and articulate about how seriously he took his job and how important that wig was for the character. You didn’t move while Derek Kwan pleaded his case. Stunning scene and playing of it.
Arthur Miller also had a strong-willed but diplomatic wife in photographer, Inge Morath, played with control and watchfulness by Sarah Orenstein. It was interesting seeing the strong women behind both Ying Ruocheng and Arthur Miller.
The production was beautifully directed by Jovanni Sy. As I said this production was almost perfect in every way. The problem was the subtitles. For some reason they were projected at the bottom of the stage, sort of on the lip, where, depending where you sat, you could not read the subtitles should the cast be speaking in Mandarin. I had a great seat to see the stage, but with heads in front of me, I could not properly read the subtitles. That was definitely a lapse in an otherwise terrific production.
“A Open-Ended Run, A Memoir” by Layne Coleman, University of Regina Press.
I thought I would end the year with a bang of a gift. I’m not reviewing a play. I’m reviewing Layne Coleman’s memoir entitled, ““An Open-Ended Run, a Memoir” by the University of Regina Press.
Layne Coleman came on Critics Circle, CIUT.fm 89.5 on Dec. 21, to talk about theatre, art, grief and his memoir. He said in our interview and in the first chapter that it took him 23 years to write. I was part way through it last week, and finished it, and it’s raw, heart-breaking, funny and illuminating about the theatre, life, grief and Layne Coleman.
‘An open-ended run’ is a theatre term that refers to a production that does not have a closing date. The production will run until people stop buying tickets, whenever that might be—hence open-ended. Layne Coleman likens that term to his life. Every day is a new day, a performance that is examined, revised, perfected and learned from, until the inevitable—death—happens.
It took Layne Coleman 23 years to write “An Open-Ended Run, A Memoir” because that’s how long he has been grieving his late wife, Carol Corbeil.
While Layne Coleman writes about the various milestones of his life—growing up on a farm in Saskatchewan, discovering his love of theatre, coming to Toronto to work in the theatre—It’s clear in his elegant, whimsical writing, that meeting Carol Corbeil, a journalist and arts critic, falling in love with her with some angst involved, marrying her, becoming a father, and losing Carol Corbeil to cancer in 2000 when she was 48—was the center of his life. And when she was taken from him, he grieved for 23 years, in a way to hold on to her, it seems to me.
Pop psychologist here—I can only surmise from reading the book and talking to him, that if he got over the grief, he might think he would get over her…and of course he didn’t want to get over her. Carol Corbeil was a force. Her columns for the Globe and Mail were thoughtful, perceptive and she wrote beautifully. She published two novels. She isn’t someone you ‘get over’. She is someone you have on your shoulder.
Layne Coleman was a single dad raising a curious, smart daughter—Charlotte–and so often through the book he would wonder what Carol would think of a situation he was in; how would she handle it? He was a loving father wanting to give his daughter the space to grow up and not hover too much. Hard decisions. Charlotte was nine when her mother got cancer. And 15 when her mother died.
So two people were grieving here in their own way. Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman went on to study theatre at the National Theatre School in Montreal majoring eventually in playwrighting. She wrote a play about her experience of losing her mother, in her play Scratch. And through it all, father and daughter became very close. Both had their ways of coping. Layne Coleman drank. Charlotte developed an eating disorder. He challenged her at one point that he would stop drinking if she stopped purging.
Layne Coleman is so self-aware of himself as a flawed man that he knew he might not keep the bargain. But he also knew his daughter and wondered about her resolve. I love Layne Coleman’s perceptions of himself, his flaws, his attempts at being a better man and father, knowing when to ease up on himself and not be so hard, but not wallowing in self-pity.
Layne Coleman’s writing is exquisite. He has a quirky style of writing with his descriptions and turns of phrase that leave you limp they are so poetic. He wrote a lot about being cast as Hamlet at Theatre Passe Muraille by his best friend Clarke Rogers, who was also directing. Clarke Rogers’ girlfriend was Carol Corbeil. Needless to say, Layne Coleman was mighty conflicted, being in love with his best friend’s girlfriend.
But he also has a stunning understanding of the character of Hamlet and how audiences perceive the role. There is this quote: “I knew the audience would be fixated by a somnolent familiarity with the story, that their preconceptions would be like cataracts in their eyes. I had to pierce their assumptions and memories of great Hamlets of the past. The task would be to gather them all into the present, because my Hamlet was soft and humble, most confident when alone in the privacy of his mind, which was where he would share his truths with the audience.”
Stunning assessment. “…their preconceptions would be like cataracts in their eyes.” What an image, and the book is full of such wisdom put as elegantly.
I’ve described the book as “raw” because Layne Coleman opens himself up to the most personal of memories. He spilled his guts to write the book. He bared his soul, revealed transgressions, regrets, expressed his doubts as a husband and father, but also recognized his successes as both. He takes the reader on the journey with him. At times it’s so moving you want to look away and put the book down. Layne Coleman won’t let you. In a way we remember our own journeys with grief, self-doubt, love, joy etc. And you are caught up short in a moment when you least expect it. There is a section devoted to Charlotte’s 18th birthday party and Layne Coleman wrote her a poem. It’s of a father so devoted to his daughter, so aware of her blossoming as a woman and so grateful to her for teaching him so much, that at the end, I burst into tears. And it was not just being moved easily, it was like a torrent, so overcome with the beauty of what he wrote, I sobbed—ugly sobs. Breathless, gasping. And then a few pages later, I’d be laughing out loud.
“An Open-Ended Run, A Memoir” by Layne Coleman is a wonderful, moving, graceful, beautifully written book about a man trying to be the best that he can be, stumbling, getting up, trying again and observing the world in the most poetic, thoughtful way.
Layne Coleman is a treasure and so is his memoir.
“An Open-Ended Run, A Memoir” by Layne Coleman can be ordered at University of Regina Press, Chapters-Indigo, McNally Robinson books, or you can order it where you buy fine books.
As many of you know, I have been giving out Tootsie Pops for many years to people in the theatre as a way of saying ‘thank you for making the theatre so special for me.’ Instead of doing top 10 lists of the best theatre and performances of the year, I do The Tootsie Awards that are personal, eclectic, whimsical and totally subjective.
Here are this year’s selections:
PEOPLE
The Guts of a Bandit Award
Layne Coleman
Layne Coleman earns this one for being one of the Toronto/Canada theatre’s early movers and shakers, as an actor, playwright and artistic director of Theatre Passe Muraille from 1997-2007. At present he is interim artistic director of VideoCabaret where he programmed with impish delight, Alan Williams’ one man show on his acting journey, Once in a Lifetime, Sometimes Never, and Dear Robert by Jim Garrard, founder and first artistic director of Theatre Passe Muraille, part of a double bill along with Special Delivery about letter writing. Alan Williams and Jim Garrard would be described by the blinkered and thoughtless among us, as “old white guys.” In fact, they are the guys on whose shoulders subsequent generations stand, who paved the way in theatre.
Layne Coleman just directed Madame Ministerfor Talk Is Free Theatre, in Barrie, Ont, a wild Serbian farce, in which he illuminated that whole world by having it played in the small hallway of a private home.
AND…Layne Coleman has recently published his memoir, ‘An Open-Ended Run” in which he spills his guts about grief, joy, theatre, his late wife Carol Corbeil and his gifted playwright daughter Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman. A brilliant book. All done by a man with the guts of a bandit.
How Did He Ever Learn All Those Lines Award
Mike Nadajewski
For his herculean performance of Valere in La Bête by David Hirson, at Harbourfront for Talk Is Free Theatre. Never mind the 35-minute monologue at the top of the show, this was a bravura performance of an arrogant, totally in control, hilarious, quixotic character who commanded the room at all times. Mesmerizing.
The Jon Kaplan Mensch Award
Thom Allison
Thom Allison, again this year. He imbues his productions with humanity, kindness and compassion. In La Cage Aux Follesat the Stratford Festival, he not only brought out the wild humour of the piece with a sweet irreverence, but also, he illuminated the deep feelings of love between the characters.
In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at Young People’s Theatre, just a simple touch of the mother to the various grandparents before she went to work for the evening, speaks volumes about the love the characters feel. All created effortlessly by Thom Allison.
Steve Ross
As a playwright, in 12 Dinners this year at Here for Now Theatre in Stratford, Ont., Steven Ross wrote about his troubled family due to his mother’s depression, with such understanding, compassion and insight it left one breathless. He did not avoid the harshness and damage done, but he handled it with the understanding of a mensch.
As an actor this year, he played Shylock in Something Rotten at the Stratford Festival and played him with a bit of naivety and the result was hilarious. But it was as Albin in La Cage Aux Folles, also at the Stratford Festival, that Steve Ross excelled. Whether Albin was performing as his drag queen character or presenting as his adoptive son’s absent mother, Steve Ross never made fun of the characters. Rather, he filled them with a graceful femininity that presented them as women with kindness, understanding, patience and love.
Jani Lauzon
Jani Lauzon has been a towering, creative presence in the theatre for decades, illuminating Indigenous stories with integrity, respect and dignity. She has both written plays and acted in them, celebrating that world and communicating its vibrancy and importance to the wider world.
Recently there was a hateful, agenda-driven essay in “The Walrus” questioning Jani Lauzon’s Indigeneity and that of her father. (One wonders, if your father told you when you were a kid that he is Metis and went to a Residential School, do you question him and ask to see proof and his status card?)
Jani Lauzon wrote a long Facebook post addressing the accusations, admitting when facts might have been incorrect and asserting the accuracy of her Indigenous heritage. She did it in a calm, thoughtful, respectful way, proving you can be the best example of an Indigenous life, lived as a mensch.
The Arkady Spivak Gifted Theatre Creator Award
Arkady Spivak (again!)
He is the artistic producer of Talk is Free Theatre in Barrie, Ont. and he keeps on re-inventing how and where to do theatre. He decided to do the whole 2024-25 season, including a wild festival of short plays, anywhere but in a theatre.
He organized tours last year of Talk is Free Theatre productions of:
Tales of an Urban Indian to Suriname and Fiji
Tales of an Urban Indian, into the Woods and What she Burned to New Zealand
Tales of an Urban Indian and For Both Resting and Breeding to Chile
– For Both Resting and Breeding to Argentina
– La Bête played in Toronto
– Boy Falls from the Sky to Hamilton and Montreal
– Cock will tour to Japan in February 2025.
She Writes Nothing but the Truth Award
Kanika Ambrose
She has lived up to her gifts and written Truth a wonderful play based on the novel “The Gospel Truth” by Caroline Pignat. It played at Young People’s Theatre. Kanika Ambrose’s play Truth, about a slave girl named Phoebe who works on a plantation, is about resilience, tenacity and the belief in hope. It’s emotion-charged and beautifully written.
The Jaw-droppers—They Can Do Anything–Award
Allan Louis
He has played Dracula, Ira Aldridge, unassuming characters, characters with attitude, all with dignity and flair. This past summer he played Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady at the Shaw Festival and reinvented the character. His Henry was not just socially inept, he was conflicted and caught up short by Eliza Doolittle. This was a subtle, beautifully created performance of a man reluctant to change, until he met the person who made him reconsider, in order to find ordinary happiness.
Jacob MacInnis
Jacob MacInnis has played a gender fluid character who goes from being a caterpillar to a beautiful butterfly in Alice in Wonderland for Bad Hats Theatre, to playing Mrs. Gloop, a doting, sweet mother with joy, yodeling and a soprano voice in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for Young People’s Theatre, to playing a man conflicted of his sexuality in The Full Monty at the Capitol Theatre in Port Hope, to the title role in Dion, a Rock Opera for Coal Mine Theatre, in which they were seductive, dangerous, compelling and sang with heart and distinction. Jacob MacInnis makes every part they play, memorable and compelling.
The One(s) to Watch Award
Josh Palmer and Chloe Matamoros who played Nick and Honey respectively in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? by Edward Albee produced by zippysaidproductions at the Red Sandcastle Theatre.
Both Josh Palmer and Chloe Matamoros displayed a keen presence in these tricky parts; both brought a distinctive flair.
Josh Palmer as Nick was confident in his sexuality and suggested that might have been how the character got ahead to a certain extent. His Nick was no pushover.
Chloe Matamoros as Honey was an innocent but was watchful too and that brought a complexity to the part that was refreshing.
Tavaree Daniel-Simms and Jadyn Nasato who played Nick and Cara respectively in Four Minutes Twelve Seconds writtenby James Fritz and produced by Studio 180 Theatre.
Both young characters are caught in the middle of a social media storm involving a video of Cara having non-consensual sex with her boyfriend Jack (who we never meet). Nick is a friend of both the boyfriend and Cara—in fact Nick liked Cara first.
Jadyn Nasato as Cara is terrific. She gives a nuanced, subtle performance full of detail and richness.
As Nick, Tavaree Daniel-Simms is also impressive. One can see this character loves Cara and wants to protect her. It’s a lovely performance.
Robert Gerow
In the Saviour by Deirdre Kinahan, at Here for Now Theatre in Stratford, Robert Gerow played a mysterious stranger and a woman’s concerned son. This young actor has depth, ability and a touch of danger.
Finn Kirk
He played Ralphie in A Christmas Story, the Musicalfor Theatre Aquarius in Hamilton. Ralphie isa young kid who just wants a Red Ryder Carbine Action BB Gun for Christmas. Finn Kirk can act and sing a treat for such a young person. Charming,
PRODUCTIONS
Growing Old Gracefully Award
Age is a Feeling
At the Yonge Centre for the Performing Arts.
Written and performed by Haley McGee. About a woman through the ages, experiencing life, gaining wisdom, forming relationships, losing them. Haley McGee is wise, perceptive, very funny, moving and submerges us in the world of the play giving us oxygen and illumination as well.
Don’t Haul a Bale of Hay in Shorts Award
The Farm Show: Then & Now
At the Blyth Festival, Blyth, Ont.
Written by Theatre Passe Muraille with new additions by the company of the Blyth Festival Production, celebrating its 50th season.
This is an homage to the production that Paul Thompson and five city-slicker actors created in 1972 by going to farmland in Clinton, Ont. and learning about farming and the world of the farmer. It was also an homage to the farmer. As Miles Potter, one of the city-slickers learned, you must wear long pants to haul bales of hay or it will shred your thighs. Miles Potter wore shorts, once doing that task. It was wonderful seeing the new generation of actors paying its respects to the show and reimagining the stories, and also seeing people in the audience who had been in that first show—and missing those no longer with us. Canadian theatre history, burning bright and just as relevant.
Language Did Not Obscure the Important Message Award
Toba Tek Singh
Dramatic Jukebox presented this as part of the Toronto Fringe Festival.
Toba Tek Singh is a stunning piece of theatre about a terrible time in history—the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947 and how it affected so many people with just a line drawn through a country, displacing hundreds of thousands. I so appreciated the company’s efforts to make this story clear for their audiences by improving the fonts, sharpness of focus and the increase in the commentary. I also respected their need to be true to their story and convictions by telling it mainly in Hindi and Punjabi. It was very clear. Bravo.
Make Your Own Luck Award.
Girls Unwanted
Bravo to the feisty, young company of The King Black Box Theatre who reached out to George F. Walker for a play and he not only ‘offered’ them Girls Unwanted, but he also directed it as well.
It’s about women in a half-way house trying to get by. The language is taut and raw. The emotions are high. Pure George F. Walker country. The tiny space was in a third-floor walk-up and the folks who have been supporting this edgy kind of theatre for years, made the trek to King Street in Parkdale to see it. Bracing theatre.
Is It Real Or Is It Memorex Award
Dana H.
A Crow’s Theatre Production, written by Lucas Hnath, directed by Les Waters, starring Jordan Baker.
Jordan Baker ‘played’ Dana Higginbotham, Lucas Hnath’s mother. She sat in a chair and told the audience of the five months she had been held captive by a man who kidnapped her. What she did was mouth the words to the actual recorded voice of Dana Higginbotham, complete with pauses, laughs, coughs, stammers, even the shifting in the chair and rearranging of her bracelets. It was a meticulous, nuanced, gripping performance and after a while we were certain Jordan Baker was Dana Higginbotham and she was doing the talking.
The Maturity and Grace Award
Mary’s Wedding
At the Thousand Islands Playhouse, Gananoque, Ont.
Written by Stephen Massicotte, directed by Brett Christopher.
A memory play about the love of Charlie and Mary before and after he goes off to fight in Europe in WWI. It’s an ache of a play; funny and moving. But this production had such resonance because of the stunning acting of Maev Beaty as Mary and Wade Bogert-O’Brien as Charlie. They brought maturity and grace to their parts and the play. Sensitively directed by Brett Christopher.
The Delicate and Fierce Award
Wonderful Joe
At the Jane Mallett Theatre.
Using hand puppets and marionettes creator/performer Ronnie Burkett focuses his perception, wit and anger on a world gone mad. He touches on gender issues, pronouns, friendship, loyalty, optimism, climate change and love, generally through the eyes of Joe.
Ronnie Burkett is concerned about the sad, angry, beautiful world we live in. Nothing escapes his perceptive ire, but he handles it all with compassion and an open heart. That is especially true towards these characters who populate his play. Each of these characters is broken in some way or another but they are fixed/healed/put back together with the gold that is Wonderful Joe.
Ronnie Burkett is a treasure. Wonderful Joe is a gift.
Powerful Even In Yiddish Award.
Playing Shylock
In Playing Shylock, Saul Rubinek ruminates on acting, being Jewish, how tough it is for Jewish actors to play leading parts in Canada, and certainly at Stratford. He notes that no Jewish actor has ever played Shylock at our Stratford—actually Paul Soles did in 2001 replacing Al Waxman who died during open heart surgery.
But then Rubinek does look at the question of who should play what parts? He talks about the accusation of “appropriation” when an actor plays a part different from his ethnicity/background etc. Rubinek’s answer is that all acting is appropriation. I loved that.
Saul Rubinek recites long swaths of The Merchant of Venice during the play and it’s full of vigor, anger, emotion and conviction, especially the “…if you prick us do we not bleed” speech. But it’s at the end of the production, when Saul Rubinek says the same speech in Yiddish, conjuring his Yiddish-actor-Holocaust survivor-father, that the performance is particularly chilling and insightful.
The Serbian World in a Hallway Award
Madame Minister
Produced by Talk Is Free Theatre
Based on “The Cabinet Minister’s Wife” by Branislav Nusic.
Adapted by Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman.
Directed by Layne Coleman
About a social-climbing woman who feels she is owed more respect in her small Serbian town than she is given. Then she hears that her husband might be made a minister in the new government and she goes into over-drive ordering people around and acting as if she has made it. A farce that puts you in that Serbian world, performed by a gifted cast in the small hallway of a private home in Barrie, Ont. The adaptation by Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman and the direction by Layne Coleman bristled with comedic invention. A treat.
Shows from away that rocked my world:
My Neighbour Totoro
At the Barbican, London, England.
Based on the Japanese animated film. About loss, longing, holding on, puppets, imagination, joy.
Operation Mincemeat
At the Fortune Theatre, London, England.
Book, Music, and lyrics by David Cumming, Felix Hagan, Natasha Hodgson, Zoë Roberts.
About the British secret operation to fool Hitler into thinking the invasion of Europe was coming at a certain place and it wasn’t. Men played women; women played men with swagger, arrogance and the pomposity of the upper-class twit. Everybody sang about it and it was brilliant. The programme cover is inspired.
Here There Are Blueberries
At New York Theatre Workshop, New York.
By Moisés Kaufman and Amanda Gronich. Conceived and directed by Moisés Kaufman.
This is about a book of photographs. All the photographs took place in Auschwitz. They aren’t of the misery experienced by the prisoners. They are of the joy, humour and good times experienced by the guards, administrators and support staff of the place. The ‘play’ explores who these smiling people actually are. Gripping and devastating.
The Years
At the Almeida Theatre, London, Eng.
Based on the Memoir by Annie Ernaux
Adapted and directed by Eline Arbo
About Ernaux’s life, discoveries of men, heartache, abortion, marriage and children, full of intense emotion.
A stunning piece of theatre that left people faint at the graphic nature of the effects of the abortion, and gripped because of its emotional power.
The Blood Quilt
At Lincoln Center Theater, New York.
Written by Katori Hall.
Directed by Lileana Blain-Cruz
From the play’s description: “Four sisters gather at their childhood island home off the coast of Georgia for their annual reunion. They are creating a family quilt to honor their recently deceased mother. But when their reunion turns into a reading of their mother’s will, everyone must grapple with a troubling inheritance. Stitched with history, ritual, laughter and tears,” truths and accusations are told as the sisters stitch the ‘blood quilt.’ The language of Katori Hall shimmers and is vivid. One character says of her sister: “You’re a whole bucked of sour.” Angry, bitter, loving and embracing the play is an explosion of emotions, performed by a stunning cast lead by their gifted director.
Cherish the Future Audience Award
Sonia and Alfred
Teatro Gioco Vita (Italy), presented at the Wee Festival, which should get its own award.
From the show information: “Alfred is a bird searching for a place to be. For refuge. He carries with him his one possession, a little red chair. None of the other birds will welcome him and tell him to go away! But one day he arrives at Sonia’s house and a beautiful friendship begins. A wonderful and moving story about finding home, belonging, friendship and family told through exquisite theatre and shadow puppetry.”
This was an exceptional and yes, exquisite piece of theatre, as were all the selections of the Wee Festival.
The Wee Festival (Lynda Hill, Artistic Director) caters to very young audiences (0-6 years old). The young audiences are treated with respect, care, consideration and kindness. They are our future audiences. We must cherish them.
Happy holidays and all good things in the future.
Lynn
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I’ve got three reviews of shows for the family for the holidaysbecause this time of year, theatres are hopping with shows for the whole family.
I’m reviewing: A Christmas Story, The Musical based on the movie, and playing until tomorrow at Theatre Aquarius in Hamilton.
The Wizard of Oz the Ross Petty Panto, is playing at the Winter Garden Theatre until Jan. 5.
And Alligator Pie based on the beloved book of Dennis Lee silly poems is playing at The Young Centre for the Performing Arts until Dec. 29, produced by Soulpepper.
A Christmas Story, The Musical.
Live and in person at Theatre Aquarius, Hamilton, Ont. produced by Theatre Aquarius. Playing until Dec. 22, 2024.
The book is by Joseph Robinette with music and lyrics by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul. It’s based on the 1983 film, which in turn is based on the childhood memories of Jean Shepherd, a humourist and radio personality in New York City.
It’s 1940 in Indiana and Ralphie Parker, aged nine, wants only one thing for Christmas, the Red Ryder Carbine Action BB Gun with an additional watch mechanism to tell time. That’s all he wants. He schemed to get it, hinting to his parents that’s what he wanted. When it looked like it wasn’t going to happen, he hinted to his teacher he wanted it in an essay, in the hopes she would tell his parents. Nothing worked. Ralphie was frantic.
He also had other issues at school, with bullying for example. And his parents also had concerns. His father was an irritated, insecure man who just wanted to win something so he kept entering contests, in the hopes of winning something. The mother was stay at home, always cooking, cleaning and picking up after her inattentive family. A younger brother seemed carefree. It was definitely a family with emotional issues.
As a musical it works a treat because the book by Joseph Robinette captures the essence of a family in the 1940s but makes it applicable to 2024. The music and lyrics by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul are sharp and evocative. They know how to write angst filled songs— after all, they wrote Dear Evan Hanson.
So while the Mother (the wonderful Jamie McRoberts) was stay at home and ‘invisible’ as the cook and bottle washer—she has a song “What A Mother Does” with a lyric, “I sit down to stand up” that says everything. It beautifully shows that she rarely has the luxury of eating her dinner with her family undisturbed because she’s always tending to her family’s needs, getting up to give another serving of food to her children or husband, etc. I loved that inner life of the mother expressed in song, for an audience in 2024. The Father is played by Adam Brazier with barely contained anger at some irritation in his life. The Father is a disappointed man in every way and comes home for some peace if that’s possible. Brazier also sings beautifully and with power.
It’s also directed beautifully by Mary Francis Moore. She focuses on the angst, the emotional bubbles of each character and keeps them simmering at an even pace.
The cast is terrific lead by Mark Crawford as Jean Shepherd as an adult and the narrator talking about his younger self, here named Ralphie. Crawford invests Jean’s involvement with the same attention that Ralphie has. Crawford is always there beside Ralphie when Ralphie is in the scene. Finn Kirk as Ralphie the young kid is a marvel. Ralphie is 9 and is played by the remarkable Finn Kirk who is a bit older—and a wonderful singer and actor.
Robin Calvert has choreographed this so that the ensemble bubbles with energy and joy.
A Christmas Story, the Musical is a charming, edgy musical for the holidays.
The Wizard of Oz, The Ross Petty Panto.
At the Winter Garden Theatre, Toronto, Ont. Produced by Canadian Stage, playing until Jan. 5, 2025.
Conductor/musical director/keyboard player, Mark Camilleri
Set by Michael Gianfrancesco
Costumes by Ming Wong
Lighting by Bonnie Beecher
Sound by Brian Kenny
Cast: Jordan Bell
Georgia Bennett
Andrew Broderick
Dan Chameroy
Jonathan Cullen
Saphire Demitro
Eddie Glen
Sierra Holder
Tyler Pearse
Julia Pulo
Kirstyn Russell
Vanessa Sears
The Ross Petty Pantos, such a mainstay of the holiday season, stopped about two years ago when Ross Petty retired his sneers and invective to his adoring, booing audience. But Brendan Healy, the Artistic Director of Canadian Stage, saw a gap in their holiday shows and called Ross Petty to resurrect the Pantos. Ross Petty was there opening night to say a few words—we booed him roundly because he always played the villain—and he said how glad he was that this holiday tradition was continuing.
As one expects, the story is not the straightforward Wizard of Oz story, since it’s a Ross Petty Panto. The script is by Matt Murray who has written these the Ross Petty Pantos for years. It’s a wild story that sort of keeps to the main story of the Wizard of Oz.
Dorothy does live on a farm but has doubts about who she really is and where she belongs. She is loved by the people there but still there are those doubts. There is that tornado and she is transported to a neon coloured city that looks strangely like Toronto with a CN Tower in the background and various landmarks with “Oz” in the title: such as OZZZZington St. There is a witch who wants to rule over everybody and needs those shiny red shoes to do it. So there is a tug of war between Dorothy and the witch to see who outsmarts whom to get them.
Dorothy is beautifully played by Julia Pulo—plucky, resourceful and a strong voice. And there are some regular characters from other Ross Petty Shows.
Plumbum (Dan Chameroy) for example has returned in all her frizzy hairedness and skewed lipstick and makeup. Dan Chameroy plays Plumbum as an irreverent woman with sass and a lovely sense of style. Chameroy gives a subtle but detailed performance of this awkward but feminine character, that is quite captivating to watch. Eddie Glen plays an optimistic Scarecrow.
And Vanessa Sears, new to the panto, plays the witch with wonderful disdain for the booing audience. She knows how to whip the audience into a loud frenzy.
I’ll say the outline of the basic story is the same, but we have a new director in Ted Dykstra and the look of the show is eye-popping neon. The projections of places in Toronto OZZZZZington, and any other name they can apply OZ to are funny and witty too. It looks like a psychedelic dream.
They usually get kids to come on stage for a small bit, and that didn’t seem to be well thought out as to why they were there….perhaps a bit more thought there. But on the whole, it’s a fun time in the theatre. And we get to boo the villain. And she gives it right back.
Alligator Pie.
Live and in person at The Young Centre for the Performing Arts in the Distillery District, produced by Soulpepper, running until Dec. 29. 2024.
Created by Ins Choi, Raquel Duffy, Ken MacKenzie, Gregory Prest, Mike Ross with new contributions from the 2024 Soulpepper Academy.
Directed by Severn Thompson
Music supervisor and Co-Music Director, James Smith
Costume designer, Ellie Koffman
Lighting designer, Logan Raju Cracknell
Sound designer, Olivia Wheeler
Props designer, Jessica Balyk
Cast: Alicia Barban
Belinda Corpuz
Ben Kopp
Ruaridh MacDonald
Haneul Yi
Alligator Pieisbased on the poems of Dennis Lee and was created a few years ago by Ins Choi, Raquel Duffy, Ken MacKenzie, Gregory Prest and Mike Ross. With new contributions from the 2024 Soulpepper Academy of actors, who also performed it.
It’s presented in the round with the audience on either side of the playing area. It’s wonderful looking around the space and seeing young kids with their mouth agape, captivated.
The talented cast recite and perform the many Dennis Lee poems and make them work in performance, by bouncing off boxes, twirling umbrellas in inventive ways and singing various songs of the poems.
It’s directed by Severn Thompson who keeps the pace going like the wind, and also trusts her gifted cast to be inventive and create moments of fun and silliness.
Alligator Pie is a great way of introducing young children to theatre and reacquaint older ones too.
A Christmas Story, The Musical plays at Theatre Aquarius in Hamilton until tomorrow, Dec. 22:
Set, projections and lighting design by Cosette “Ettie” Pin
Sound by steph raposo
Costumes designed by Pythia
Choreographer, Elm Reyes
Cast: Denim (Emerson Sanderson)
Pythia (Christos Dariasis)
Sasha Velour
Kaleigh (of multiple spellings) owner and creator of a PR firm and her best friend Matt, a wannabe influencer, social media devotee, bitch and giggle at the way of the world of drag queens, hashtags, and psychics.
Kaleigh is getting married to Brad, but she’s not sure if he’s the one. Matt drags himself away from his cell phone long enough to suggest she see a psychic about it and names the psychic—Madame P. Kaleigh sees Madame P, who subtly steers her away from Brad, among other things. It’s hardly a surprise at who Madam P really is. Kudos to Pythia for the clever and inventive costume design.
There are a lot of drag queen references (Denim and Pythia are celebrated Drag Race stars). The physicality, snappy patter, bitchy retorts and constant references to social media and its essence and ethos are bracing for those up on the lingo and the insider info and jokes. For those who are rustyOraculum might be a bit (?) A lot (?) out of the loop.
Director ted witzel’s production is technologically complex, with digital backdrops of Madame P in full drag splendor and larger than life or imagination. Kudos to Cosette “Ettie” Pin for the Madam P projections. Kaleigh looks out to the audience with Madame P being beamed in through the wonders of pre-recorded video answering Kaleigh’s questions of life, Brad and what to do. There are constant references to hash-tag notation with the hashtag being projected on surfaces above door stage left and stage right. If only one could read them, they are so dimly lighted and fuzzily projected. Can Cossett “Ettie” Pin work wonders here? Please.
There is a lot of atmospheric smoke, lighting, directorial dazzle and a story and performances that need masses of attention. It’s great to cast real, celebrated drag queens such as Denim and Pythia, but this is a theatrical event and audibility is a requirement. And one could not hear them properly, and certainly Pythia who talks quietly and quickly. So quickly one can’t get the jokes or the gist. I guess friends who stab trusting friends in the back for fun, might be funny in some quarters, as Matt does to Kaleigh, but surely there is more to a story than this superficial rendering? A character who is glued to his cell phone waiting for the next influencer moment and his insecure, whiney ‘friend’ just don’t seem worthy of such a complex, complicated production, that one can’t clearly hear.
Book by Marla Mindelle Constantine Rousouli and Tye Blue
Directed by Tye Blue
Set designer, Gabriel Hainer Evansohn and Grace Laubacher for Iron Bloom
Costume designer, Alejo Vietti
Sound designer, Lawrence Schober
Lighting designer, Paige Seber
Orchestrations and arrangement by Nicholas James Connell
Music director, Nick Burgess
Choreographer, Ellenore Scott
Cast: Andre Anthony
Tess Benger
Constant Bernard
Mariah Campos
Veronique Claveau
Dave Comeau
Kaylee Harwood
Mike Melino
Rose Messenger
Christopher Ning
Erica Peck
Queenie
Michael Torontow
Seth Zosky
Irreverent, bend-over hilarious, beautifully performed. It’s perfect for the holidays and after.
The Story. Creators Marla Mindelle, Constantine Rousouli and Tye Blue (who also directs this) say that Titanique is a “love-letter to Céline Dion.” And it’s a kiss-on-the-cheek to musical theatre. It is also an uproarious send-up of the film Titanic directed by James (“The King of the World”) Cameron.
We start off at the “Titanic Museum.” A tour guide gleefully notes various artifacts that were found after that horrible disaster of the sinking of the “unsinkable” Titanic. He is interrupted by the one and only Céline Dion. He is puzzled because all she contributed was the theme song “My Heart Will Go On” of the film. She informs him that she was there!!!
This leads us into the story which is explained really well in case someone was on a deserted island and didn’t see the film or know what it was about. Rose, her cloying mother Ruth and Rose’s fiancée, the very rich, tuxedo-wearing Cal, are travelling to New York. Cal is hoping to sleep with the chaste Rose before they arrive. He gives her a huge blue heart-shaped jeweled pendant to sweeten the deal. But Rose sees and falls in love with the poor, humble, and simply dressed Jack who is going to New York for a better future. They spend a lot of time below decks getting to know each other through singing and clutching. Cal finds out. It gets messy. Cal orders the captain, Victor Garber—that in itself is an inside joke of the show—to go as fast as they can to get to New York because he has an important appointment he must not miss. The captain cranks up the speed. The seaman (lot of jokes about that) is fearful because there are all those icebergs out there. The ship is unsinkable says the captain. They plough on. And hit an iceberg. And Céline Dion keeps narrating, commenting and singing.
The Performance. Writers Marla Mindelle Constantine Rousouli and Tye Blue have written a show that is funny, witty and irreverent towards the film, and so loving to Céline Dion that it is eye-popping. It is also a love-letter to musical theatre with references that are both familiar and obscure. There are jokes in the writing, sight gags in the direction and ad libs in performances that are so funny you cover your eyes and shake your head in disbelief. And joy.
Much is made of the Seaman as a play on words with the character and uh, well, uh another meaning. Lots of inuendo. The song list includes many of Céline standards. For the musical theatre aficionados there are snippets of music that one would recognize from Gypsy, Beauty and the Beast, a wonderful obscure one from Chicago, and even a snippet of the disingenuous song “For Good” from the dishonest and exhausting show “Wicked.” (please keep the invective; it’s just not that important over which to lose it.)
Tye Blue’s direction is meticulous. Every gesture is thought out. Every reaction and over-reaction are deliberate. The cast plays everything broadly and it works a treat for a show that is a send-up of everything one holds dear: Céline, the movie Titanic, musical theatre and the devotion of the gay audience of which much is made. Those not of that sexual orientation will be embraced as well for being ready for a laugh and a good time.
The performances are wonderful in their own way. Veronique Claveau is divine as Céline Dion. She is dressed in Céline’s iconic shimmering, formfitting silver gown and knows how to sashay around the stage with confidence. Her reaction when the audience applauds her arrival and the cheers in recognition is a mix of surprise, humility, humbleness and an “oh you are too kind and I love you all” reaction. And there are the expressions of love and devotion for the audience, followed by the tapping of her heart, the subtle flipping of her hair, the gentle brushing away of ‘non-existent’ tears she is so moved, the smiles, the laughs and all the other calculated gestures that render this a wonderful performance of Céline. And Ms Claveau has a strong, clear voice that is less an impersonation of Céline Dion’s voice and more a dandy performance of her various iconic songs.
Mariah Campos as Rose and Seth Zosky as Jack are wonderfully passionate and determined as the two lovers. Michael Torontow as Cal brings a lovely arrogance to the role but never manages to ‘get’ the girl. As Ruth, Constant Bernard is a pearl-clutching, fretting creation. But it’s in the moments of free-wheeling adlibs/improving that he shines. The jokes are topical, (so topical that one left the opening night audience stunned at the quickness—and no I won’t repeat it because it’s so brilliant, and besides, it might be gone in place of others over time.
Even the presentation of the title of the show is clever. The letters are formed in such a way that the “look” of the word “Titanique” resembles the ship. Brilliant.
Comment.Titanique is laugh-out-loud funny. A sweet, irreverent gift of a show for the holidays, and every day after.
Live and in person at the Studio at the Streetcar Crowsnest, Carlaw and Dundas. Baram and Snieckus presented by Crow’s Theatre. Playing until December 22, 2024.
www.crowstheatre.com
Big Stuff, is a little show about big, important things written and performed by Matt Baram and Naomi Snieckus. Both are celebrated comedians and improvisors who have worked at Second City and in many comedy venues. They are also married, to each other so their comedy chops are very finely tuned.
It’s about the stuff we keep and the stuff we let go. Matt Baram and Naomi Snieckus are polar opposites when it comes to stuff. He has no problem with tossing anything no matter how sentimental. Naomi Snieckus on the other hand keeps everything and she has a good reason to justify holding on. While Matt Baram tosses stuff, he holds the memory of it close to his heart. He remembers the nickname his father called him when he was a kid. He has fond memories of his mother but no mementoes.
Naomi Snieckus has her late grandmother’s crochet needle even though Snieckus does not crochet. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t crochet, according her, it was her grandmother’s crotchet needle and she needs to keep it to keep her grandmother close.
Toaster’s, Naomi Snieckus keeps toasters whether they work or not because it has a memory. There are several toasters around the set. There is a childhood book, a mug etc. She even begins to save mementoes that might have been important in Matt Baram’s life too—such as a framed example of a parent’s needlepoint.
There is a story framing all this. They are driving a UHAUL full of a late parent’s stuff back from LA. They are at the Canadian border and Snieckus remembers that there might be a baggie of pot in the back of the truck. Snieckus and Baram do some role playing about how they are going to handle the questions of the border guard. They are master improvisors but have to get their stories right. There are about 100 cars in front of them in line before they are questioned. They are nervous and creating what they will say, but not mentioning the pot. And then they go off on a tangent, explaining why they are in a UHAUL driving from Los Angeles in the first place.
That leads them to tell how they met (at Second City), fell in love as a result, and how they delt with it—they were both married to others at the time.
While it is a polished script, Baram and Snieckus do improvise. When we enter the theatre there is a folded card and pen on each seat. The card says to note a thing you have that reminds you of someone.
The audience dutifully writes about all manner of stuff they have that reminds them of someone. The cards are then collected in a cardboard box and will be used during the show—and we turn in the pens too. During the show, when Matt Baram and Naomi Snieckus are talking about items that are memorable to them, they take a card from the box and read it. They then ask gently who wrote the card and to tell them about the item. Sometimes the cards and memories are poignant—one woman noted her father’s handkerchief and she got teary remembering how important it was to remind her of her father. Baram then took out a cotton handkerchief from his pocket to show that he too uses a cotton handkerchief and not a Kleenex He then says he’s been using it since the opening. It gets a laugh but this is the kind of quick wit these two comedians have. Naomi Snieckus is just as quick with a quip as Matt Baram it. Their patter is good natured, teasing, loving and kind. They don’t throw barbs at each other.
I love the whole notion of memory and stuff that nudges us to remember. Big Stuff is similar to Every Brilliant Thing by Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe in that it twigs the audience to remember the things that gave them joy. The premise of the play is that when the narrator was a young boy his mother tried to commit suicide and was in the hospital recovering. The boy then started a list of every beautiful (brilliant) thing that he thought would twig her to joy. The first item was ice cream. Each member of the audience was given a card with an item and a number on it. When the narrator called out a number, the person with the card with that number said what the item was out loud. The audience then became complicit in the story-telling. And of course, it got us to think of things that were ‘brilliant’ to us. I thought of that show while watching Big Stuff.
The production of Big Stuff is terrific. It’s funny and very moving. The basic story is quirky but so resonant. We can all picture ourselves in that situation—picking up the parent’s stuff and having to get rid of it. What do you keep? What do you toss? What memories does it all dredge up? What games are played to make a person move to make a decision?
The set by Michelle Travey is wonderful—a whole side wall is loaded with brown cardboard boxes one uses to more stuff. They are stacked one on top of the other. There are ledges within the stacking that has a toaster a book a glass, a jar, a memento. There are two chairs in which Baram and Snieckus sit when they are driving or recalling another sketch.
It’s directed by Kat Sandler, with speed, clarity and enough time for the humour to breathe. Baram and Snieckus are often on the move to keep the vision varied. And the programme credit that Rebecca Northan is the improv consultant, speaks volumes.
Rebecca Northan is a master improvisor and her care and respect for the audience is legendary. She never talks down to an audience and she never humiliates them for a laugh. She knows who wants to engage and who doesn’t and respects that. She has passed that care to Matt Baram and Naomi Snieckus, it seems to me. They are gentle and respectful when they read a card and ask who wrote it, and then to tell them about the memory. Sometimes they engage with the audience member and when they are finished with the encounter they say “Thank you.”
I love that care….so different from lots of comedians who look on the audience as fodder. Baram and Snieckus look at the audience as equal partners in a community.
Big Stuff makes you think of al the stuff in your life—clutter, mementoes, stuff to toss etc. and stuff to keep and why regarding both. It’s a sweet show with a big heart. Liked it a lot.
