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.
An ambitious play about the ills of society when wretched excess overwhelms everything. Perhaps a re-think is needed to see if everything is necessary to note, to be two hours long without an intermission.
The Story. Feast is about consumerism, environmental disasters, climate change, human rights violations, wretched excess in a world of profound want and poverty; the wanting of more without thought of consequences; families, communication, relationships and perhaps a hint of cannibalism. For a start.
It starts simply. A well-to do couple, Mark and Julia, are sitting outside on their patio on one assumes is a sunny day. She is reading her iPad and he is looking at his phone. And they are talking pleasantly. She is trying to arrange a little vacation for them at a nearby mountain. He is in agreement. He travels for work to a different city in a different country it seems every week. He never sees the city because he’s always in meetings in the hotel. One wonders why the meeting has to be in a different exotic city? There is a daughter, Isabel, a good student and accomplished swimmer. She is worried about the environment and the world. There is a son we never see and they aren’t sure if he’s in the house or not. So, we get hints of who these people are.
But then on one of Mark’s trips he meets a guide, fixer named Chukuemeka who seems to be able to arrange for incredible meals or exotic foods for Mark. Mark becomes obsessed with eating more and more exotic foods to the point of getting seriously sick. He is in a foreign land recuperating always in touch with Julia who is going through her own change—she’s building a bunker in case she might need it. So, it’s a play about having not just food, but a feast, or at least in metaphoric terms, more than enough of anything. It’s about needing experiences that keep on getting more and more exotic to feed a need for more.
The Production. Kaitlin Hickey has created a minimal set of two chairs, and sliding doors at the back. Kaitlin Hickey’s projections add context, texture and location. Chris Malkowski’s lighting and the sound scape of Thomas Ryder Payne add to the ethereal nature of the production.
The production of Feast is directed with great style and spareness by Soheil Parsa. There is such clear elegance to his production but a laser focus to the point of a scene. The initial languid feel of the scenes builds subtly with Mark (Rick Roberts) and Julia (Tamsin Kelsey) bantering good naturedly, with her planning a family vacation. They do look up from their devices to address the other by looking at each other, but the devices and what they are looking at are more important than conversation that requires facing each partner.
Mark is accommodating. Julia notes the pleasant day but then looks up and says: “The sky is too blue.” One shakes one’s head at such an observation. If one was looking back from this early scene, after the startling ending to the play, one could say that the play ends here—when a sky can be considered “too blue” by someone so rich in everything, that she can’t even know when something is perfect and ‘enough.’ I think that says everything about losing sight of something’s worth, wonder or value.
Mark notes that he is going to Beirut the next day for a meeting, and mistakes it for being in the “Holy Land.” He never ventures out of his hotel to explore these cities because he’s always in meetings in the hotel. Another ‘note’ by playwright Guillermo Verdecchia about the world Mark and Julia live in.
But then gradually Mark seems to be going off the deep end with his wanting of exotic foods to the point where he’s poisoned by one and still wants more. He’s finding himself in a way being complacent to being obsessive. So, the tension just builds and builds.
The acting is fine. Rick Roberts is laid back and gradually needy as Mark. He spirals into the obsession of wanting more and more exotic food without the prescience of seeing he is losing control and getting into serious, physical trouble.
Tamsin Kelsey as Julia is easy-going but then take charge and then perhaps crazed in her own way, wanting to build a bunker.
Veronica Hortiguela plays Isabel, the daughter, as a committed young woman who needs to save the world. She too is obsessed in her need that it is making her sick with worry. But she has her own epiphany and regains a sense of reality and calmness.
Tawiah M’Carthy plays Chukuemeka with charm and easy-going grace, until he traps Mark in his web of his own intrigue. Chukuemeka has his own desperation and a matter-of-fact way of solving his problems. Desperation, poverty and a prescience of his corrupted work, has made him hard and calculating, but also charming when he needs to be. The performances are fine.
Comment: I think Guillermo Verdecchia has written about a lot of important issues in our world and painted them impressively in the work.But at two hours without an intermission I think it needs some rethinking to shorten it and decide if everything noted should be included. At one point Mark is going on what seems like a dangerous journey to go to a remote place for a meal that Chukuemeka says is like no other anywhere, and Mark goes, and is given a gun for protection.I can appreciate the obsession and wretched excess of characters, but after a time it’s tiresome to be in a theatre having to watch one so stupid and reckless as Mark becomes. A bit unbelievable there and one tends to stop caring. That’s not a good thing.
Lots to think about in Feast but it should be edited and tightened.
Written by The King Black Box and Aurora McClennan
Directed by Ziggy Schulting
Production design by Sophie Ann Rooney
Cast: Jenna Brown
Michael Delaney
Sean Irvine
Adam Marley
Aurora McClennan
Megan Miles
Bridget Ori
Zach Parsons
The good people at The King Black Box Theatre are fearless magicians. They create gripping theatre in a small, yet inviting space, and they do it with style. I first saw their production of Girls Unwanted, written and directed by George F. Walker last year and was impressed with their audaciousness, that they would approach George F. Walker to provide a play and to direct it.
The Irish Pub Play is no less audacious. It boasts a cast of 8 to play in a space that is tiny, that also manages to sit almost 40 people around the space. Some folks are on chairs, some on couches, many on bales of hay covered in thick blankets so the hay doesn’t stick to your clothes or jab you in the nether regions. There is a bar that sells beer, water and chips.
The welcome the audience gets is genuine. We are invited into the pub called “The Goat of Arms” to have a drink and listen to stories of three sisters (no it isn’t Chekhov—it’s Ireland, it’s different there), stories of their partners, boyfriends, strangers and dead relatives.
The three Ó Súilleabháin sisters: Gráinne, Maura and Bláithín are preparing to have a wake for their Grand Uncle Cian. They are going to have it in their 100 year old family pub, The Goat of Arms. They are closing the pub for the day, invited their friends and family and had the food made. While waiting for the guests to arrive, family feuds bubble up; the sisters are at odds with Gráinne trying to be the responsible sister to Maura and Bláithín who both are angry at their world, prone to drink and unhappy in their lives. Gráinne also has her issues having just lost her baby. He supportive husband Lorcan says they can try again. Then a Canadian tourist named Taylor Keel comes into the pub looking for answers about her family and thinks the people in the pub can help. This unlocks more questions than answers and is part of the fun of The Irish Pub Play.
As the audience files in to the space Sophie Ann Rooney has designed a terrific ‘set’. There is a bar at one end with framed pictures of Guinness emblems on the wall behind it. There are all sorts of pub stuff around the space. Another wall has egg cartons attached to a wall that makes it look like corrugated metal. I thought that was inspired. Everything about the space, especially the covered bales of hay is inspired.
A young man sits on a stool at the bar, sleeping. He’s been sick and remnants are on his face as he dozes. This is Donnell O’Connor (Michael Delaney). When the play starts various characters enter the bar loudly, some in mid-conversation; some agitated. One of the sisters, Maura (Megan Miles), is found sleeping? passed out, behind the bar. That causes more conversation, accusations, etc.
Director Ziggy Schulting says this isn’t a play about Ireland. “This is a play about humans being stuck in their ways trying to figure out how to keep going.” Fair enough. But the sparkling, sharp dialogue, the eye-popping turns of phrase place this right there in that magic country. We can’t ignore it. Is there a special kind of Irish angst? Is there a special kind of Russian/Chekhovian angst? Probably yes in both cases.
The Irish Pub Play is bracing; full of family squabbles and love. Ziggy Schulting has kept the pace whizzing. This is an ensemble so tight there is not a dropped line or an errant pause. And for all the unhappiness that these characters endure, there is bend-over humour. They insult each other with a turn of phrase that is both cutting and hilarious. When they need a pause from drinking to the health of the dearly departed, they sing rousing songs. If I have a quibble it’s the character of Taylor Keel. She’s the stranger who wanders in from Canada looking for clues about her late grandmother’s connection to the area. She has some information that leads the Ó Súilleabháin sisters to look for answers in their late uncle’s diary. But for most of the play Taylor Keel just tried to fit in and not feel awkward. I think the mystery of the relative could have been solved in a more efficient way than with this puzzling character. Other than that, fun times at The Irish Pub Play and the King Black Box Theatre.
Live and in person at the Studio of the Streetcar Crowsnest, 345 Carlaw Ave., Toronto, Ont. Produced by Studio 180 in association with Crow’s Theatre. Playing until April 20, 2025.
Jonathan Wilson enters the Studio Theatre of the Streetcar Crowsnest, smiling, affable and understated. He tells us he has been asked as a queer elder to talk about the gay scene in Toronto in 1979. There are videos of Jonathan Wilson at the center of what was the ‘gay village’ in director Mark McGrinder’s stylish production. Wilson is at Yonge and Alexander Street. Now it’s a bustling area full of high-rises, street-level stores and people on their way to where ever. Jonathan Wilson marvels at the public displays of affection of same sex couples in today’s world.
In 1979 it was a much different time. It was dangerous to ‘be out’ and the ‘gay village’ was a safe haven for people like the young Jonathan Wilson who had left the confines of Oshawa, for the heady word of Toronto and the ‘gay village’. The place was alive with people, full of bars that catered to a gay clientele and the opportunity to be with a community that allowed a person to be themselves without judgement. Jonathan Wilson reveled in that world and in the people who befriended him. His memory of that time was full of joy, fun and freedom.
(Note: Buddies in Bad Times Theatre was founded in 1978 by Matt Walsh, Jerry Ciccoritti, and Sky Gilbert, with dedicated to “the promotion of queer theatrical expression”. It was also a place where gay-themed plays could be produced without censorship).
Jonathan Wilson also talked about the mysterious disease that was cutting down gay men in their prime. He talked of his guilt at abandoning a dying friend who befriended him. His quiet delivery certainly conveyed his guilt.
The evening is framed with Jonathan Wilson acting as an elder gay man telling those who came after him what the ‘gay village’ was like in Toronto in 1979. We find out late in the short evening from the sales pitch of a slick real estate pitchman, that a condo development, with over-priced dwellings, is going up in the area using the gay-history as background, and the pitchman wanted Jonathan Wilson to act as a gay elder to give context. I thought that framing, and certainly the pitchman, diminished the importance of Jonathan Wilson’s memories he was sharing.
Designer, Denyse Karn has created a neon-lit backdrop of the Toronto skyline with the colours of the gay flag flashed over the back to augment the theme of the condos. At times I found the design and André du Toit’s lighting too flashy and modern for the 1979 scenes. Jonathan Wilson gives a personable, measured performance under Mark McGrinder’s sensitive direction. I just wish the pace was quicker. At times it’s so slow it hampers the flow, rather than showing how shy Jonathan Wilson is in the recollections.
A wonderful irony of the show is that gay-themed plays and solo shows are now ‘main-stream’ and don’t need to go to gay-themed theatre companies to be produced. A Public Display of Affection was developed, nurtured, workshopped and produced by Studio 180 Theatre, a company that is bold, eclectic, versatile and committed to diverse voices.
At 388 Carlaw Ave. Artist Play Studio, Carlaw Industrial Complex.
Cock, the hit comedy by British playwright Mike Bartlett, is about John, a gay man, who has been in a relationship with his partner for seven years. But when he meets and falls in love with a woman, he is forced to contemplate the boundaries of his identity and decide what he really wants for his future.
This is a return engagement to Toronto with the play. It plays to May 2. There is no excuse to miss this thrilling production.
Pochsy worked at Mercury Packers. Where she packed mercury. Now her employer has moved offshore, and Pochsy must grapple (in her eerily screwball way) with her industrial past and God’s broken promise of a five-star future.
Karen Hines is a fierce artist. She doesn’t play here often. You have been warned.
Mahabharata is a contemporary take on a Sanskrit epic that is more than four thousand years old and foundational to South Asian culture. This gripping story of a family feud is an exploration of profound philosophical and spiritual ideas. A visually stunning spectacle presented in two parts, Mahabharata takes audiences on a journey through the past in order to write a thrilling new future.
Exploring themes of storytelling, ecocide, and dharma (empathy), Part 1 begins Mahabharata‘s epic journey that asks, “How can one end the spiral of revenge when everyone believes they are right and their opponents wrong?”
Continuing the story from Part 1, King Janamejaya is told of the war fought by his ancestors – the battle of Kurukshetra and its devastating destruction of the planet, the mass extinction that follows, and of the survivors left behind to rebuild.
In Mahabharata’s Part 2 (Dharma), the storytelling tools evolve into captivating projections, dynamic digital soundscapes, and poetic stage design. The stories delve simultaneously into philosophical and political ideas, and abstract and absolute truths. Interrogating the themes of justice and revenge, Part 2 includes a 15-minute Sanskrit opera adaptation of the Bhagavad Gita (The Song of God), which is the most famous chapter of the Mahabharata epic.
A culinary tour, a global crisis, and yet, still always hungry.
Can one ever be truly full? Feast is a biting look at a world where some are movers and some are moved and how long we can last when your family is falling apart.
The opera explores the explosive relationship between Saul, the King of Israel, his son Jonathan, and David, the young hero and slayer of Goliath.
The production will feature the Artists of Atelier Ballet and will be accompanied by Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra under the baton of Opera Atelier Music Director David Fallis with the Tafelmusik Chamber Choir.
Co-Artistic Directors Marshall Pynkoski and Jeannette Lajeunesse Zingg staged and choreographed David and Jonathan in 2022 in the Royal Chapel in Versailles.
