Created and performed by Parastoo Amanzadeh (choreographer) and Mina Zaghari (writer)
Directed by Tanisha Taitt
Set, props and costume design, by Sim Suzer
Lighting designed by Christopher-Elizabeth
Sound design by Kaveh Mirhosseini
Rey (Parastoo Amanzadeh) and Sana (Mina Zaghari) are close friends and artistic partners. They share a room in Sana’s parents house, while they create dance pieces which they perform in the hopes of attracting backers and audiences. They try to share expenses but manage to fall behind. The first scene is each woman apologizing to the other for “not paying my share of the meal we shared, or the groceries bought, or the many other expenses they share….”.
In other words, they are poor artists. Sana is the more upbeat, optimistic of the two, Rey seems more subdued—we find out why towards the end of the show. At one point Sana suggests they paint their drab room. The colour “sanguine” comes up when they look at the spaghetti with tomato sauce they are eating.
We go to trusty Wikipedia for the definition of “sanguine”.
“’Sanguine’ describes someone who is cheerfully optimistic and hopeful, sometimes to the point of seeming naive or oblivious. It can also refer to a reddish or ruddy complexion. The word is derived from the Latin “sanguis,” meaning “blood,” and was originally used to describe someone with blood as the predominant bodily humor, which was associated with cheerfulness.
Referencing the word “sanguine” is a clever, impressive way to use both definitions of the word in the show—first the colour and then the cheerful optimism of Sana. For impish, artistic fun, both women hurl their bowl of spaghetti against the wall to see how it looks and ‘spreads.’ As for the first definition of “sanguine”—“someone who is cheerfully optimistic and hopeful, sometimes to the point of seeming naïve and oblivious”– it plays out in a subtler, more poignant way. While both women are devoted to each other and their art, Rey has some startling news for Sana. How that affects both women almost creates a shift in the friendship, but segues into a deeper emotional bond between the two.
Parastoo Amanzadeh’s choreography is muscular, almost combative and yet emotionally connective of the friendship. The choreography reflects the ups and downs of the friendship before and after Rey’s confession.
It’s refreshing to see two young artists as Parastoo Amanzadeh and Mina Zaghari tackling such emotionally rich material with such maturity, that reflects many of the serious issues of today: friendship, loyalty, creating art, clinging on and letting go.
Tanisha Taitt has directed Sanguine with her usually sensitivity and attention to detail. She enhances the story and encourages the creation of the two artists without getting in the way of it.
Taitt is also the artistic director of Cahoots Theatre, a safe haven for spotlighting racially inclusive work, a place for historically underrepresented voices and championing the work of the outsider. Parastoo Amanzadeh and Mina Zaghari came to Cahoots to participate in the Crossing Gibraltar creation unit for newcomer immigrants and refugees, while they were students in the Theatre Performance Program at Humber College. Parastoo and Mina are from Iran.
Welcome. Your work is wonderful. More please.
A Cahoots Theatre Production
Plays until May 10, 2025
Running time: 60 minutes approx. (no intermission)
Live and in person at the Streetcar Crowsnest, 345 Carlaw Ave., Toronto, Ont. A Crow’s Theatre and Obsidian Theatre Co-production. Playing until May 18, 2025.
Bristling teamwork realizes this buoyant play that is more than just about playing basketball.
The Story. It’s 1997 in rural Arkansas. As the synopsis notes: “every player on Plainnole’s Lady Train High School basketball team dreams of going pro. But first, they must navigate the pressures of being young, Black, and female in rural Arkansas, where a mistake on the court can become a foul in real life.”
The Production. Ken Mackenzie has designed a gleaming basketball court with all the requisite lines and curves that mark off the areas of the court (free-throw line; side lines etc.).
Each woman on the team has her own hopes and demons to contend with. April (a compelling Jewell Bowry) is pregnant and is benched because of her condition. Starra is the confident team captain. Shauna Thompson plays Starra with fierce determination. Her rival for top spot on the team is Sidney, played with conviction by Jasmine Case. Sidney who is equally as confident and arrogant as Starra is from Los Angeles and resents being in this small, hick town. Donna (Asha James), a calm presence and Cherise (Trinity Lloyd) an eager young minister as well as player have a secret relationship. Their determined and non-nonsense coach is Francine Pace (Sophia Walker) who tries to instill the notion of teamwork in the group, and not encourage a player to hog the ball and showoff.
The Lady Train team is practicing on the court and each one wears a ‘baby-bump’ padding under their t-shirts in solidarity with April, and to protest Coach Pace who side-lined April because she’s pregnant. The women aim to prove to Coach Pace that even a pregnant ‘girl’ can play basketball and excel. Coach Pace’s aim is to see that each woman plays to the best of her ability and in the context of creating a cohesive team. She impresses upon her group the need for fluid ‘flex’ moves, to keep the ball moving from one player to another, to set up the plays and get the shot. “Show-boating” is not encouraged, but so tempting to do. In the context of the team each player looks out for her teammates to do the best for the team and the game.
As Coach Pace, Sophia Walker brings a reasoned calmness, but firmness to her instructions. She’s been there before. She knows the challenges these young women are going through and is determined that they will benefit from her previous mistakes. Sophia Walker is always compelling and watchable and as Coach Pace she is impressive.
Similarly, director Mumbi Tindyebwa Otu directs this bracing play and production with attention to the smallest detail. Each actor is watchful, ready, listening with their eyes and bodies and totally in the groove of the dialogue and movement. Coach Pace has a cohesive team. Director Mumbi Tindyebwa Otu has a cohesive ensemble of artists who beautifully realize the fast-paced play. It’s not just sport, it almost seems like ballet the action is so fluid. Kudos must be given to Alex Johnson, the basketball coach for the production.
Playwright Candrice Jones has written a tight, funny, thoughtful play celebrating young Black women who are determined, fierce, supportive, morally responsible, ambitious and loyal. They have their issues with doubt that they can make it alone, with secret insecurity and jealousy. Some players have attracted scouts from professional teams while others have not. One player has done something unethical and is called out on it. How does one deal with it is a big part of this compelling play.
Comment. Flex is very specific—it’s about a team of Black women high-school players in rural Arkansas—full of their hopes, dreams, aspirations, doubts and challenges. And of course we can all see ourselves in that game. The beauty of theatre.
A Crow’s Theatre and Obsidian Theatre Co-production:
Sound and lighting designed by Christopher-Elizabeth
Cast: Saskia Muller
Andrea Perez
Those who regularly read this blog know that nothing gives me more pleasure than going to out of the way places, holes-in-the-wall, etc. to see ‘indie theatre’ created by emerging artists. A Girl In School Uniform (Walks Into A Bar) produced by A Front Company fits that bill in all ways.
Award-winning UK playwright, Lulu Raczka’s 2017 play conjures a dystopian world in the future, or perhaps in the present. We are in a seedy bar where the customers have stopped coming. Bell (Sakia Muller) tends bar in any case. She is tough, watchful, brimming with attitude and secretive. She wears black boots, torn fishnet stockings, black short-shorts, chains and a tight sweater with strategically placed nipple rings. Steph (Andrea Perez) comes into the bar with a poster, looking for her friend Charlotte (Charlie) Jones. Steph wears a white shirt and pleated skirt with part of the shirt tucked in. Steph is a young student in a school uniform. Kudos to costume designer Paulina Tapia who has captured the grunge of the bar.
Steph shows Bell the poster with Charlie’s face on it and wants to know if Bell ever saw her at the bar. Steph tells Bell that Charlie went out into the blackout—there are many blackouts with no explanation—and never came back. Bell grimaces. Nope, Charlie never came into the bar. Steph keeps pushing for information. Bell keeps resisting.
Both Saskia Muller as Bell and Andrea Perez as Steph are beautifully matched in attitude, serious playfulness as both characters finesse and manipulate each other. Saskia Muller as Bell has a smirk and combative body language that is forbidding, protective and quietly intimidating. Andrea Perez as Steph is no pushover teen. She too has an attitude of a person on a mission in dangerous times, and nothing is going to intimidate her, certainly not a woman in torn fishnet stockings and strategically positioned nipple rings. Both characters navigate the danger of the darkness and the uncertainty of when the lights will come on, with a confidence and fearlessness.
Lulu Taczak has written a show that is eerily of today but has glimpses into an imagined future of a dystopian world. It could be a murder mystery but we’re not sure regarding what happened to Charlie. There are certainly elements of ghost stories told around a fire, if one is lucky enough to have some light, and the fortitude not to be terrified. It’s a cat and mouse tale with Bell leading on Steph with her own mysterious stories, and Steph rising to the occasion by not succumbing to being afraid. It’s fascinating watching the story unfold with all the meandering twists and turns to find the truth.
Robert Morrison has designed the bar full of stuff, drinks glasses, bottles of orange juice and various things to add to the eclectic world Bell works in. Robert Morrison also directs with a keen eye to realizing the forbidding atmosphere. He establishes the relationships of the two women with sensitivity and knowing when to create a sense of claustrophobia and not.
Light and sound of course are key and sound and lighting designer Christopher-Elizabeth brings their usual flair to the proceedings. How does one bring light into a black-out? A flashlight. Sometimes an audience member is given the flashlight to illuminate the characters. Sometimes one character shines the light on the other. There are variations to that illumination depending on where the flashlight is held and how close to the person illuminated. When Bell holds the flashlight so that the light shines upward into her face, there is a stark reflection, dangerous. Other times the light falls softly on a character’s face. Christopher-Elizabeth has also created an assortment of groaning, grinding sounds that add atmosphere to the proceedings, as if the place is haunted.
A quibble is that in a few cases one could not hear a character talking as clearly as needed because of the sound effect in the background.
A Girl In School Uniform (Walks Into A Bar) is an adventure in ‘indie’ theatre performed by enthusiastic, fearless artists. The Green Room bar is a happening place on College Street that serves the usual drinks as well as exotica with little umbrellas and other things floating in the liquid. What happens in the room downstairs however is another world. It’s where the audience is taken into the future, where it’s dark, sometimes light, sometimes with spooky, groaning sounds—into Lulu Raczka’s wild imagination.
Live and in person at the Harold Green Jewish Theatre, at the Meridian Arts Centre, in North York, Ontario until May 4. A Human Cargo Production in association with Kofflerarts.
A beautiful, gripping production of a compelling story about a man who just wanted to do good.
The Story. Jacob is an orthodox Jew who is single, lives with his mother and is a volunteer paramedic with Z.A.K.A, a group that goes around Israel and internationally, collecting the body parts, skin and blood of Jews involved in terrorist attacks. He has no other life/job but this one and he takes it very seriously. (Note traditionally Jews must be buried intact, hence the need to collect the body parts for a proper burial.)
From Wikipedia: “ZAKA (Hebrew: זק”א, abbreviation for Zihuy Korbanot Ason, זיהוי קרבנות אסון, lit. ‘Disaster Victim Identification’) is a series of voluntary post-disaster response teams in Israel, each operating in a police district (two in the Central District due to geographic considerations).”
One day he comes upon an Israeli soldier lying dead in the road and near him is a young Arab woman who has been shot in the back. She is still alive and Jacob goes to her to try and save her life. Jacob saw the scene and decided instantly that the Arab woman needed help more than the Israeli soldier.
Jacob is reprimanded by the others in his group and by his superior for helping the Arab who they assume killed the soldier. Jacob can’t assume anything because he wasn’t there. All he saw was a woman in need of help and since he took an oath to “do no harm” he helped her. He has taken criticism and bad treatment from his co-workers, his mother and his righteous brother, Ari. All of this leaves him confused about how others could not see the obvious: he did the right thing, according to the oath he took and for being decent.
The Production. The late Daniel Brooks directed the first production of The Runner at Theatre Passe Muraille in 2018. His direction is being re-created for this production with playwright Christopher Morris playing Jacob.
A sharp, white shaft of Bonnie Beecher’s brilliant lighting shoots down from the flies to form a rectangle at the bottom. This is the image that greets the audience as it fills into the theatre space at the Meridian Arts Centre in North York.
The space goes to darkness to begin the production. A sharp voice pierces the silence. Then we hear it again. Slowly the lights go up eerily on a man sometimes waking towards us; sometimes running towards us. To create this sense of constant movement Christopher Morris as Jacob performs the whole play on a narrow, long strip of the stage that juts out into the space in front of the audience. He is in fact on a treadmill. Beams of light from Bonnie Beecher’s stark design pour down on him. Sometimes he runs but it’s not enough to stop him being sucked into the black of upstage. It’s a very effective image, a voice coming from the dark void upstage.
Jacob wears an orange jacket with iridescent stripes—the uniform of the ZAKA. Because Jacob is orthodox the tzitzit (the suggestion of the fringe from a prayer shawl) hang down from under his jacket. He wears a yarmulka. Kudos to designer Gillian Gallow for the set and the costume.
Daniel Brooks’ direction is spare and his sense of imagery was stunning. His deft directorial hand is also there guiding Christopher Morris’s performance as Jacob. The performance is full of generosity, heart, Jacob’s passion for life, determination and compassion for whomever he helped. Jacob always seemed to be running frantically to an incident, but one is often aware that he also walks with a purpose too. The orchestration of when to run, walk and speed up added such texture to the dialogue.
Often he is running as the treadmill speeds up. Then he talks urgently of what he has discovered. He talks with speed, purpose and determination of giving the Arab woman CPR and mouth to mouth resuscitation to keep her alive.
There are also moments when the treadmill slows and Jacob walks and ponders the things he has encountered and remembers. Moments in his life. He notes that his mother always has dinner ready for him but never knows if he will be home to eat it. She wants him to get married. She hasn’t twigged to the fact that Jacob is gay. He also notes that his mother would cross the road if she saw an Arab walking towards her.
Jacob’s self-righteous brother, Ari, has a job and is prosperous and has contempt for Jacob because Jacob does not have a job; he doesn’t pay taxes; he lives with their mother. In a blistering speech Ari expresses his disgust for Jacob for saving the Arab girl and his contempt for all Arabs. Jacob asks Ari how he can live so close to an Arab enclave under such circumstances and Ari screams: “BECAUSE IT’S MINE!” When I saw the original production of The Runner at Theatre Passe Muraille, I found this moment particularly chilling. When I saw the present production at the Harold Green Jewish Theatre, this moment paralyzed me with grief at what is happening there, with such hatred on both sides.
While Christopher Morris as the playwright worked on the play over many years, one can’t help but think of what is happening today in Israel and Gaza.
Christopher Morris has created Jacob both in writing and in acting, as a man who is just; who wants to do the right thing; who is brimming with humanity, and provides, perhaps, a sliver of hope at what seems a hopeless situation at the moment.
Comment. The Runner has had a rough time in the last year or so. It was scheduled to be performed at the Belfry Theatre in Victoria, BC but was cancelled because of various protests, vandalism to the theatre and fear for the safety for those at the theatre. The play was then to be included at the PuSh International Performing Arts Festival in Vancouver. A Palestinian participant in the festival refused to bring his work to Vancouver if The Runner was also included, (a play he did not see or read) so the PuSh Festival withdrew The Runner.
Fortunately Avery Saltzman and David Eisner, the two co-artistic directors of The Harold Green Jewish Theatre know the value of challenging work and were determined to program it for their present season. There was a police presence when I saw it (and no protestors) and a full house or people who like a challenge. Bravo to all of them.
I read somewhere that the basis of Judaism is that it is ‘life-affirming, man-revering.” That is embodied in every single thing that Jacob does in The Runner. He wants to save lives, no matter whose life it is: Arab, Jew, Palestinian. A life is a life. “Do no harm.”
Christopher Morris has written a compact, taut play that depicts in Jacob’s clear, pristine dialogue the history of the Jews coming to this rocky land with no oil or resources because it was promised to them. Through Jacob we glean the animosity of Jew against Jew and the thorny relationship with the Arabs.
Morris has created in Jacob a generous, open-hearted, gentle man who is searching to do good, to be scrupulous in that search. He is mindful of the explosive nature of his surroundings and tries to hold on to his humanity and find it in others. It’s a measured look at a situation that can be so lopsided. It’s an emotional exhausting, eye-opening, gripping piece of theatre and I did what I usually do when I see something as moving as this about a troubling subject: I sobbed all the way to the car.
A Human Cargo Theatre Production in association with Kofflerarts.
Life and in person at Koerner Hall, Toronto, Ont. Presented by Opera Atelier. Closed April 13, 2025.
Played April 9-13, 2025.
www.operaatelier.com
Composed by M.A. Charpentier
Conducted by David Fallis
Directed by Marshall Pynkoski
Choreographed by Jeannette Lajeunesse Zingg
Set designed by Gerard Gauci
Lighting designed by Kimberly Purtell
Cast: Colin Ainsworth
Mireille Asselin
Christopher Dunham
Stephen Hegedus
Mireille Lebel
Antonin Rondepierre
David Witczak
As the production has closed and I saw the last performance of it’s short run, this is more a comment than a review.
David and Jonathan is a love triangle of sorts between David, the shepherd who defeated Goliath, Jonathan, the son of Saul, King of Israel, and Saul. David and Jonathan are devoted friends. Initially Saul took David into his court when he, David, killed Goliath. The friendship formed between Jonathan, Saul’s son, and David. Saul became jealous of David, and thinks David is planning to oppose Saul as the king and war becomes inevitable.
This is Opera Atelier’s 40th season, a statement that is astonishing to its two co-artistic directors, Marshal Pynkoski and Jeannette Lajeuness Zingg. They formed Opera Atelier to examine and realize period performances, most notably baroque opera and ballet. The company started humbly in the lecture hall of the Royal Ontario Museum. Everybody donated their time because they believed in presenting repertoire “that was unheard of, strangely beautiful and ultimately irresistible.” From there Opera Atelier performed at the Art Gallery of Ontario, McMillan Theatre, The Royal Alexandra Theatre, The Elgin Theatre and Koerner Hall. The company has toured extensively, most notably to Versailles, France.
In every venue Marshall Pynkoski and Jeannette Lajeunesse Zingg never stinted on bringing exquisite beauty to the stage, whether in the ballet, opera, stage design, costumes, lighting and the smallest detail.
For David and Jonathan, set designer, Gerard Gauci transformed the stage of Koerner Hall into a ravishing, glinting creation of ‘marble’ pillars, majestic stairways and drapery. Michael Gianfrancesco created the same elegance in his costumes. As always, choreographer, Jeannette Lajeunesse Zingg researched paintings and dance notations of the day for authentic poses, the proper position of the hands, the head and feet. Director Marshal Pynkoski did the same for staging and direction.
As Marshal Pynkoski said in his welcome speech to the audience regarding the attitude/philosophy of Opera Atelier: “They are “drunk on beauty and sick with nerves.” Beauty is their aim and focus in everything they do. But there is also nervousness with each show, to pass that on to the audience, to embrace them in that sumptuous world. For a person who doesn’t ‘drink’ often, getting ‘drunk’ on the beauty of an Opera Atelier production is intoxication enough. I love the company. Their shows are always an education in music, dance, beauty, art and the world.
Opera Atelier’s next productions are:
The Magic Flute by Mozart. Oct. 15-19, 2025. Elgin Theatre
Pelléas et Mélisande by Debussy. April 15-19, 2026. Koerner Hall
Photo by Michael Cooper; l-r: Isabella Esler, Jake Epstein
Book, music, lyrics by Britta Johnson
Directed by Annie Tippe
Choreography by Ann Yee
Music supervision, arrangements and orchestrations by Lynne Shankel
Set by Todd Rosenthal
Costumes by Sarafina Bush
Lighting by Japhy Weideman
Sound by Kai Harara and Haley Parcher
Music director, Chris Kong
Cast: Valeria Ceballos
Jake Epstein
Isabella Esler
Kaylee Harwood
Arinea Hermans
Chilina Kennedy
Zoë O’Connor
Julia Pulo
Mariand Torres
The band:
Chris Kong—music director, conductor, keyboard
Emily Hau-violin
Moira Burke-Viola
Samuel Bisson-Cello
Pat Kilbride-Bass
Sanya Eng-Harp
Jamie Drake-Percussion
Britta Johnson, a gifted composer, lyricist, writer, has written a poignant, moving show on loss, grief, love and moving on. But this iteration is so bloated with Broadway-style glitz, glitter and overkill, it’s hard to see what was so affecting in its early iterations.
The Story. It’s Alice’s 16th birthday. She has just had a fight with her often-absent father, Frank, a self-help-inspirational-speaker-author. He has unexpectedly come home from a conference he’s organized in Winnipeg, to celebrate Alice’s birthday as a surprise. Alice is surprised alright and angry. She has plans. He wants her to change them. She can’t. She wants him to change his 8:00 p.m. flight. He won’t. They end on bad terms. Alice will regret that bad parting for the rest of the show. So will Alice’s sister Kate and their mother Beth.
The Production. Todd Rosenthal has designed a huge three-story house with an attic at the top, two rooms below that and the rest of the house on stage level. A staircase stage right leads to the upper floors. A revolve on stage level reveals other rooms and playing areas. For all this space, director Annie Tippe keeps many intimate scenes center stage in a small area, or on the stairs, and sometimes on the second floor.
Frank (Jake Epstein) and Alice (Isabella Esler) are introduced first. Frank is stage left; Alice is stage right. Each is in their own pool of light (kudos to lighting designer Japhy Weideman). As Frank, Jake Epstein is understated, charming, and conciliatory as he leaves Alice a phone message regretting the fight and urging her to call him, reminding her his flight is at 8:00 pm. As Alice, Isabella Esler is outstanding, full of angst, confusion, anger and hurt. She also sings beautifully and with tense emotion.
Then the whole stage ‘explodes’ with activity across the stage and characters we’ve never seen before, each singing that Alice should come home, it’s urgent, something has happened. There is Beth (Mariano Torres) Alice’s upset mother; Kate (Valeria Ceballos) Alice’s composed sister, Hannah (Julia Pulo) Alice’s loyal, talkative friend, and a chorus of “Furies”, (Kaylee Harwood, Arinea Hermans, Zoë O’Connor). There’s been an accident—this is not a spoiler; it’s the second song- “Alice Finds Out.” Frank was in an accident at 8:22 pm. Alice is confused. His plane was at 8:00 pm. The accident was at 8:22 pm in a part of town nowhere near their home or the airport. Alice spends almost the rest of the show trying to find out what happened. So do we because there is so much singing going on that the main thread—Alice noting Frank’s time of the flight and the time of the accident—is almost obliterated by the Furies singing other lyrics at full throttle, thus ‘obstructing’ Alice’s lyrics. And it’s not an isolated incident in this often busy with activity, over-amplified musical. Often the singers are fighting to be heard/understood as the band overpowers them. This was also a complaint in my review of the previous iteration at Berkeley Street. Balancing sound seems to be a mystery in so many musicals.
Mysteries appear in Britta Johnson’s book of the show. Frank had his secrets. So do other characters. Life After skirts around these mysteries for most of the play and what actually happened and where Frank was going before the accident. That it doesn’t resolve them fully seems a tease. Why spend all that time noting the mystery without resolving it?
Johnson has said in her program note that ‘grief is hard to describe….so I started to write some music.” Johnson is a wonderful lyricist who can encapsulate a host of conflicting emotions in richly worded songs, especially for Alice. Frank, Beth, Kate and Alice sing: “Control what you can, let go of the rest.” Sound, thoughtful advice. Britta Johnson’s lyrics are equally as poetic in “Wallpaper”, a devastating song for Beth, passionately sung by Mariand Torres, who laments her absent husband with bitterness. Alice’s sister Kate has her own regrets that we find out late in the musical and Johnson deals with Kate’s sense of loss in a way as sensitive as the others.
While one is impressed with Britta Johnson’s prodigious talent, one can’t deny that this now bloated, loud, unnecessarily garish musical could do with judicious, ruthless cutting to get back to what made it notable. It’s now grown to 90 minutes and 22 songs.
The most poignant song in the whole cycle is “Wallpaper” when Beth, Alice and Kate are painting Frank’s room as their final good-by. Kate always hated it and felt she was ignored when she asked Frank to paint it. It is the most effective scene because it’s only the three of them on stage, quiet, focused and slowly painting. It says everything about their shared sense of loss and grief and yet shows them in a distinctive light. The show should end there but Johnson has three more songs which really re-state what has already been expressed. One song is “Will I Grow?” sung by Alice. Well, yeah of course, it’s obvious in the “Wallpaper” scene when Alice sees the pain of her mother and sister, and starts to paint the wall, when she refused before. Cut the song.
This is followed by “Snow”. It’s a flashback scene in the musical. Frank has come home at 2 am to celebrate Alice’s birthday. Alice is still awake. Frank suggests they go for a walk in the snow because Alice loves the snow. They walk for two hours, father and loving daughter. They talk and laugh. What then to make of the scene later in the morning in which Frank wants Alice to change her plans, she won’t and they fight. There is no hint of the sweetness of the previous “Snow” scene. Cut it.
This is really a story about a family of four and Alice’s teacher Ms Hopkins (an excellent Chilina Kennedy). One might add Hannah (a fine Julia Pulo), Alice’s best friend, but that is perhaps being generous—we need Hannah to reveal a mystery about where Alice’s father might have been.
Life After is really about a family of four and another woman. One wonders why there is a chorus of three who often portray snooty classmates of Alice but rarely forward the plot in a way that is clear?
Director Annie Tippe and choreographer, Ann Yee fill the stage with lots of activity and busy movement, seemingly for no reason, and one wonders what all this frantic activity is all about? Scenes are most effective when characters are isolated in their own emotional solitude, but the general swirl of activity leaves one dizzy.
Why is Jake Epstein as Frank often directed as if he was a song and dance man doing a Las Vegas (Broadway?) routine, instead of a character with a reputation for charming his audiences with wise advice?
Why is there a Las Vegas kind of number coming from nowhere, anyway?
Comment. Life After has had a storied past. Britta Johnson first began writing the show when she was a teenager who was grieving over the death of her father and the death of a friend of hers. The show had a reading at the Paprika Festival (a festival of work created by teenagers); it had a stint at the Fringe Festival; it was produced by the Musical Stage Company and the Canadian Stage company in an expanded version (75 minutes 18 songs) at the 244 seat Berkeley Street Theatre in Toronto. It then had a run at the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego and another run at the Goodman Theatre in Chicago where it was expanded further and took on new creatives and Yonge Theatricals as the main producer. It is this expanded version (90 minutes and 22 songs) that is playing at the Ed Mirvish Theatre (2,000 seats, but only the 1000 seat orchestra section is being sold) in Toronto with the intention of taking it to Broadway. I get a sinking feeling that Britta Johnson let go of her poignant musical and allowed it to be distorted out of proportion by those who want to take it to Broadway, a place that has proven again and again, it rarely appreciates delicate work like this used to be. Disappointing and heartbreaking.
Live and in person at the King Heritage and Cultural Centre, Laskay Hall, King City, Ont., Produced by the King Theatre Company. Running until April 19, 2025.
Bravo to Chloë Rose Flowers, the artistic director of the King City Company, who is bringing theatre to King City. She formed the company last year and produced David French’s two- character play, Salt-Water Moon. This year she produced and directed Art, a three-character play by Yasmina Reza. Can a 10-person musical be far behind?
One can see the appeal of Art. It’s about friendship and modern art. It takes place in Paris but is applicable anywhere. It’s about three long-time friends—Serge (Fred Kuhr), Marc (Josh Palmer) and Yvan (Ganesh Thava), but they are so different one wonders how they really are friends. A large, pure white painting tests the theory of friendship.
Marc appears first to announce that his friend Serge has bought a huge white painting and paid a lot of money for it. Marc is quietly furious. He’s angry that his good friend should pay so much money for it and as the play progresses, Marc is angry that Serge did not consult him first. Marc is the take-charge guy. He has an opinion on everything and expected Serge to consult him on such an important purchase.
Serge is pleased with the purchase. The artist is famous. It’s not just a white painting, there are streaks of white and even hints of pink in it. Serge and Marc wrangle over the painting, the cost and the lack of colour, harmony, design etc. in it. Into this duo comes Yvan, who has his own issues.
Yvan is getting married soon. He’s just changed jobs to work for his future father-in-law. He’s insecure, not very confident about anything and generally does not have a firm opinion of anything. Marc brow-beats Yvan as well.
Why are these people friends? I know, stranger things have happened. The wrangling escalates until matters get out of hand and something drastic happens to the painting because of a dare. In the end, there is a reconciliation between Marc and Serge with Marc changing his whole attitude towards the painting (this is not a spoiler alert since the show has closed).
Because of Marc’s sudden change of heart, I realize there is a scene missing—not because director Chloë Rose Flowers cut it from her production, but because playwright Yasmina Reza didn’t write it in the first place. There has to be some explanation, some dialogue between Marc and Serge, that led Marc to change his mind about the stupidity of the painting and the folly of Serge to buy it. And an explanation is even more important since at the end it’s the first time Marc has been accommodating and conciliatory and not abrasively condescending and full of such conviction.
Chloë Rose Flowers has done wonders in trying to establish the stylish lives of Marc and Serge with a simple two-seater couch, a plant at the back and simple furniture to create their separate apartments. Because of the smallness of the space Fred Kuhr as Serge has to carry the painting that is 5’ x 4 ‘ onto and off of the stage when the scene is not in Serge’s apartment.
Chloë Rose Flowers negotiates her actors around the small space with aplomb and efficiency. I do think the bits of farce are ill conceived: when Yvan tries to enter a room through a narrow door only to be blocked because he’s holding a small painting that is wider than the door and it stops him; and later when Yvan does way too much business opening a letter turning it around and fussy instead of just reading it. Art is not a farce. Art is a comedy and Chloë Rose Flowers does honest work in trying to realize the humour.
The cast of Fred Kuhr as Serge, Josh Palmer as Marc and Ganesh Thava as Yvan are very committed in their work. This was an honourable effort.
Live and in person at the Tarragon Theatre, Extra Space, Toronto, Ont. A Tarragon Theatre production, in association with Why Not Theatre and Broadleaf Creative. Playing until May 4, 2025.
Creator, writer, video and projection designer, Kevin Matthew Wong
Directing consultant, Mike Payette
Set and lighting designer, Echo Zhou
Sound designer, Chris Ross-Ewart
Cast: Kevin Matthew Wong
Designer, Echo Zhou has created a set composed of props, each illuminated in her soft lighting, of things that will factor in Kevin Matthew Wong’s thoughtful, joyful play. There is a red telephone on a short table; a bamboo steamer with red ‘poppies’ stuck in it, sitting on a round structure; there is a standing fan; and other props placed around the space.
Kevin Matthew Wong makes an exuberant entrance banging Chinese cymbals together, circling the stage and welcoming us to the space. He asked for folks from the audience to come up and join him in banging cymbals and doing a Lion Dance. The Lion Dance is part of the ceremony of welcome. People gladly volunteer. This adds to the exuberance of the moment. It is all about being a good host and Kevin Matthew Wong prides himself on being a good host. Tea and red packets of thanks are offered to the volunteers.
A cell phone goes off during the performance as Kevin Matthew Wong is telling his story. It rings loudly. It sounds like it came from my row at the end. So annoying when it rang a few times. Kevin Matthew Wong looks in that direction and politely asks for the phone to be turned off as it is so distracting to him and to the audience. So true—we are on edge hearing that annoying disturbance. The noise stops. Then it rings again. Only this time the ringing sounds like it is coming from the stage. It is the red phone on stage. Kevin Matthew Wong sheepishly answers it when he realizes the ringing is coming from his phone. (Kudos to sound designer Chris Ross-Ewart for manipulating the sound so that it sounds like it’s coming from various places in the theatre (in the audience, on the stage).
It is Sonia calling—she left a message—she is a Hakka-Chinese-Jamaican-Canadian woman and she wants Kevin Matthew Wong to write a play about being Hakka for a seniors home in Markham for the upcoming Hakka conference. In two months!
A suggestion before we continue… please cut the cell phone going off in the audience. It’s a long way to go for a laugh. It’s been done before (it’s really the storyteller’s phone). It unnecessarily interrupts the flow of the story. Cut the ringing in the audience and just keep the call coming from the stage where Kevin answers it. Finess the moment and make it work there so the audience gets to hear what Sonia suggests, without the angst of the interruption. Please.
Here Kevin Matthew Wong shows his dexterity with characters, different voices, body language, stances etc. As Kevin Matthew Wong plays her, Sonia is diminutive, hunched a bit, has a lilting Jamaican accent and a sparkling sense of humour. She is lively, positive thinking and engaging.
Kevin Matthew Wong listens to the suggestion of a play about being Hakka. He knows he is Chinese-Canadian but not much about being Hakka except for listening to his ancient grandmother talking in the ‘mysterious’ Hakka language to relatives on the phone. He goes on a journey to find out about being Hakka.
He talks to his 100-year-old grandmother for some inspiration—the videos here are touching. Kevin Matthew Wong experiences the best welcome he’s ever had from visiting the Hakka center in Vancouver and learning so much about the history. This leads him to Victoria, B.C and more information. He learns of the racism Hakka endure when coming to Canada, incarceration, being ostracized, being lonely, without the comfort of friends and family.
“Hakka” in Chinese means “guest families” and the connotation is not welcoming. To be Hakka is to be China’s nomadic people, who wandered over the globe for two thousand years. They were looking for safe haven from persecution and often did not find it. So, there are Hakka Chinese-Canadians, Hakka Chinese-Indians, and in the case of Sonia, Hakka Chinese-Jamaican-Canadian. The Hakka in various countries formed their own societies-groups-centers where they could gather together and be comfortable in each other’s company. These centers were called “Benevolence” (noun: the quality of being well meaning; kindness; gracious).
One learns from the play Benevolence how important it is for Kevin Matthew Wong to be considered a good host, since often ‘guest families’ were not always welcome. He welcomes everybody with the same grace, kindness and charm. And his respect for elders who had so much wisdom to impart to him with such generosity, is heart-bursting.
Kevin Matthew Wong is also bursting with theatrical invention—the set and the creation of puppets and a surprise appearance of a lion are just some examples. He is creative, a nuanced writer and communicator and a fine, generous storyteller.
In his programme note he illuminates his prescience about the power of theatre to communicate. He says: “I chose to create Benevolence because I had a conviction that my experience was similar to that of many Canadians.…I hope that sharing part of my journey of self-discovery resonates with your own questions about identity and being here in Canada. I hope also that the benevolence at the heart of this story finds its way into yours.”
By telling us his story we can apply it to our story.
A Tarragon Theatre production, in association with Why Not Theatre and Broadleaf Creative presents:
Live and in person at the Bluma Appel Theatre, Toronto, Ont. A Why Not Theatre Production presented by the Canadian Stage with Why Not Theatre. Playing until April 27, 2025
Written and created by Miriam Fernandes and Ravi Jain
(using poetry from Carole Satyamurti’s Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling.
Directed by Ravi Jain
Set by Lorenzo Savoini
Costumes by Gillian Gallow
Lighting by Kevin Lamotte
Projections by Hana S. Kim
Original music and sound design by John Gzowski and Suba Sankaran
Choreography by Brandy Leary (with contributions from: Jay Emmanuel, Ellora Patnaik
Musicians: John Gzowski
Suba Sankaran
Dylan Bell
Gurtej Singh Hunjan
Hasheel Lodhia
Zaheer-Abbas Janmohamed
Cast: Shawn Ahmed
Neil D’Souza
Jay Emmanuel
Miriam Fernandes
Ravin J. Ganatra
Darren Kuppan
Anaka Maharaj-Sandhu
Goldy Notay
Ellora Patnaik
Meher Pavri
Sakuntala Ramanee
Ronica Sajnani
Ishan Sandhu
Navtej Sandhu
Munish Sharma
Sukania Venugopal
A herculean endeavor to bring the Mahabharata to the stage to show both the powerful cultural epic and also realize the intense story of two warring families. Kudos to Miriam Fernandes and Ravi Jain for their incredible efforts lasting eight years until fruition.
Background. The Mahābhārata is one of the two major Sanskrit epics of ancient India in Hinduism, (the other being the Rāmāyaṇa). It narrates the struggle between two groups of cousins in the Kurukshetra War and the fates of the Kaurava and the Pāṇḍava princes and their successors.
The original author is Vyasa who wrote this epic poem in Sanskrit. It was written between c. 3 BCE-c. 4 CE. There are 200,000 lines.
The Story. To say The Mahabharata is dense with characters, philosophies and ethics is an understatement. Co-writers Miriam Fernanes and Ravi Jaine have focused their version of the epic on the ongoing animosity between the 100 strong Kaurava family and the five brothers who made up the Pandava family. Each vied for power, property, position and to rule the kingdom. Each promised to follow the strict dictates of war but each resorted to trickery, duplicity and cheating to gain position. Rage, anger and hatred ruled decisions (echoes of war through the ages). Neither side would yield. For a four-thousand-year-old epic, it certainly is prescient about the brutality, blind-determination, seething hate and animosity that has driven warring sides through the ages.
The Production. The Mahabharata is presented in two parts. “Mahabharata: KARMA (Part 1) The Life We Inherit” and “Mahabharata: Dharma (Part 2) The Life We Choose” which includes the Bhagavad Gita opera.
Lorenzo Savoini’s set is exquisite in evoking the mysticism of India 4000 years ago. A circle of red sand dominates the stage floor. A bank of lights stretches across the back of the stage. At points in the storytelling the lights will rise or lower slowly and illuminate the stage. The musicians are situated on the stage, in full view, along the back wall.
As the audience fills into the Bluma Appel Theatre I note that actors individually come onto the stage, stand before the red sad, bend down, touch it delicately, put their hands together in a prayer position, perhaps touch their heart, stand up and raise their ‘prayered’ hands to the musicians, then turn and raise their prayered hands to the audience then they leave. Other actors follow ‘performing’ the same ‘ritual.’ This is called: “doing pranam in respect for the space and musicians (and audience), and in preparation for the performance.” I found that practice so moving, so spiritual, making the whole ‘process’ of creating this kind of theatre elevated from being ‘special’ to being almost holy.
The beautiful score by John Gzowski and Suba Sankaran underscores the telling of the story without ever distracting from it. It always enhances the story and accentuates the power of war.
The Storyteller, the wonderful Miriam Fernandes, enters the stage. She begins the story of Part 1 by introducing the various gods, participants and where they came from. It’s information overload trying to keep track of who is related to whom and who belongs to what family, the Kauravas or the Pandavas. This part is particularly challenging with many characters being introduced to give background. One must quote the Storyteller from the play to keep things in perspective: “Don’t be confused by plots. Within the river of stories flows infinite wisdom. This is your true inheritance.” To carry on the river metaphor, float in the information and don’t drown in it; the information will buoy you up. Miriam Fernandes is charming, buoyant, clear, precise and measured in her pacing. And she is so invested in telling the story clearly that we hang in there. And she tells the story with such joy, that she makes it all compelling.
The images of men at war or illuminating why one is a champion archer are many and vivid. Dance in its many forms is used to tell many of the stories. Dance is a particular vocabulary that I don’t know in order to interpret what is being said. I do know that various Indian dances and its forms are precise, intricate and particular. Each hand gesture, each turn of the head, each position of the foot, means something, so on that level, I’m impressed with this way of telling the story. Kudos to choreographer Brandy Leary and contributors, Jay Emmanuel and Ellora Patnaik.
Director Ravi Jain’s ability to realize the huge theatrical sweep of the story is impressive. At times a large sphere slowly lowers at the back symbolic of a change in the story. The curtain to end the act lowers slowly, again for a theatrical effect.
The second half of Part 1 moves quicker because the story has been established. “Mahabharata: Dharma (Part 2) The Life We Choose, goes like the wind. The opposing sides between the two families are set. War is inevitable. Dance is used to recreate the energy and fierceness of battle. Kudos to Jay Emmanuel as Shiva and Amba and Ellora Patnaik as Kunti/Drona particularly for the electrifying dance.
Part 2 contains the Bhagavad Gita opera sung in exquisite stillness by Meher Pavri. She is dressed in a gold gown (kudos to Gillian Gallow for the beautiful costumes) and sunburst head covering. She slowly moves cross the stage singing the opera, her hands are by her sides. There are no gestures for emotion. It’s all in the singing. Stunning. I am grateful for the surtitles that are projected in Sanskrit and English.
The cast to a person is excellent. Every pose, gesture, hand-movement, kneel on the stage, evokes a classical pose in Indian paintings or sculpture. It all works to bring the culture alive in the story. A triumph.
And yet Mahabharata is so vivid in conjuring so many cultures, not just South Asian. Hatred, revenge, pride, greed, desire for possession both of wealth and people, all have resonance in, and echoes of, the literature and stories of other cultures. I heard references to the war that reminded me of “The Art of War” by Sun Tzu, the ancient Chinese Military Treatise of 5 BC. The story of a stranger in Mahabharata doing the impossible to win the hand of Draupadi—stringing a bow and shooting an arrow in the air hitting its target, reminded me of the stranger in the Odyssey by Homer 8-7 century BC who did the impossible to win the hand of Penelope—string a bow and shoot an arrow through seven axe handles. Stories from one country get around to others.
Comment. This production is a truly international endeavor. The cast are all of South Asian decent coming from Canada, England, India and Australia for example. The creatives are a international cross-section of artists bringing their expertise to produce a work that is seamless in conjuring the rich world of The Mahabharata. What a gift of theatre Miriam Fernandes and Ravi Jain have brought us.
A Why Not Theatre Production presented by Canadian Stage with Why Not Theatre.
Plays until April 26 (for Part I) and April 27th for Part II.
Running Time: Part 1- 2 hours and 30 minutes (one intermission)
Karen Hines is a clown, a devotee of bouffon (which is the subversive end of clowning), a satirist of the first order, an observer and social chronicler of the absurdities of life, and a keen practitioner of irony. Karen Hines expresses her quirky, sharp-honed observations of our changing world often through Pochsy (pronounced “Poxy”), a woman with a seemingly ‘unbalanced mind’ or is it just a dark vision of the world with a off-kilter sense of humour?
Karen Hines says in her program note that in her twenties, she “designed Pochsy as a microcosm. An avatar torn from the ragged edges of capitalism, trailing the destruction of consumer obsessions at the same time as she is excited by them. Ultimately alone, perpetually lost.” You get a fine sense of the sharp humour of Karen Hines from her free-wheeling first paragraph.
Pochsy IV: Unplugged is obviously the fourth iteration of this creation who is still commenting on our weird world, albeit after a ‘two-decade break since the last” Pochsy show.
Pochsy worked at Mercury Packers, packing mercury. She lost her job when her employer moved offshore. This sets Pochsy on an almost stream of consciousness as she riffs on unemployment; how mercury forms into beads when it spills on the floor (!!!!); how she won a cruise that turns into its own nightmare when it goes on for days and days without her getting off the boat; and her conversations with God, to note only a few of the subjects getting the Pochsy treatment.
The stage is bare except for some small metal boxes with a red cross on them. The boxes are on the floor for easy access. When the lights come up on Pochsy, she is almost shrouded in shadow. As the lights get brighter we see she wears a black toque with black hair hanging down from it, a black furry jacket that she takes off, under which is a black bustier of sorts, black net top, black skirt and black goth boots. She is demure, slight, often unexpressive visually (the better to gently fling a laugh-line) and when she speaks the voice is soft and might be confused for ‘child-like’.
Some quotes from previous Pochsy shows have described the character as a riff on “Betty Boop.” I think Karen Hines’ creation of Pochsy is more varied and sharper than that. Pochsy is Karen Hines’ invocation of Dorothy Parker—caustic wit, sharp tongued, observer of the foibles of society. Karen Hines expresses Pochsy’s opinions and observations in a soft voice but a crisp delivery, slowly and clearly spoken. The zinger is often at the end of a line. Sometimes she breaks into her own laugh at the observation which adds a new spin to the line. The juxtaposition of incongruity is where humour lies. Karen Hines is a keen observer of that truth. Pochsy is a survivor. Tough but fragile-looking and that is deceptive.
She often opened some of the red-crossed boxes on the floor. One time she took out a bottle of water. Much business was done to try and open it. The demure soul could not. A plea for a “cis man to volunteer to open this impossible-to-open-bottle-of-water.” A man in the front row who looked like Blake Brooker, the director of the show (and husband of Karen Hines) volunteered. He held up the bottle and of course slowly and easily untwisted the bottle top so Pochsy could wet her throat. I thought that was a long way to go for a short, obvious joke. And really? The ‘little woman” needs a burly man to open a bottle? Hmmmmm? Director Blake Brooker also provided lighting along with Andrew Dollar which seemed more neon-flashy than was needed to change from scene to scene.
The observations are sharp but any reaction regarding laughter is muted. I found that interesting for this opening night audience of obvious fans of Karen Hines’ work. But then again, Dorothy Parker’s wit resulted in more like eye-brow-knitting and a nod in recognition, rather than belly laughs.
Karen Hines was a mainstay of Toronto theatre and the comedy scene, until we lost her to the wilds of Calgary, where she moved, years ago. My concerns aside, an opportunity to see this satirist and her observations of our loopy world should not to be missed.
