Lynn

Live and in person from Talk is Free Theatre, at the Five Points Theatre, Barrie, Ont. Until February 11, 2023.

www.tift.ca

Written by David Hirson

Directed by Dylan Trowbridge

Set by Joe Pagnan

Costumes by Laura Delchiaro

Lighting by Jeff Pybus

Props by JB Nelles

Sound by James Smith

Movement by Monica Dottor

Cast: Katarina Fiallos

Amy Keating

Madelyn Kriese

Josue Laboucane

Justan Myers

Mike Nadajewski

Heeyun Park

Courtenay Stevens

Amelia Sargisson

Rylan Wilkie

A wild production directed by Dylan Trowbridge with a towering performance by Mike Nadajewski. A cautionary tale of what happens when a rich patron interferes in a theatre company’s programming and casting.

The Story. It’s 1654. Languedoc, France. Princess Conti’s estate in Pezenas (changed from Prince Conti, in David Hirson’s text). Elomire is a courtly, erudite creator of theatre. He heads a theatre company that does weighty work. His patron is Princess Conti. For years she has allowed him to produce what he wanted. Then things changed.

Princess Conti saw Valere, a troubadour, a clown, performing in the public market place and was so enthralled by his performance and sway over the people who stopped to watch, that she decreed that Valere would join Elomire’s troupe.

The only trouble is that Elomire loathes the very being of Valere as a show-off, a bombastic disgrace to theatre, a clown in the worst possible way and totally incapable of working in an ensemble. Valere was invited to dinner with the company to get to know each other. It was a disaster as far as Elomire was concerned. He leaves the dinner along with Bejart, his second in command, to fulminate about the whole thing.  He refuses to consider Valere for the troupe. Bejart produces a writ that confirms that Elomire has no choice. The Princess has decreed that Valere will join the troupe to bring in new blood to the company. She feels the troupe has stagnated. She proposes a test to see how Valere and the troupe will work together. They will perform a play of Valere’s (in which he usually performs all the parts) to see how they can integrate the same space and play.

The Production. Joe Pagnan establishes the ornate time of France in 1654 with large swaths of deep, richly coloured cloth. Louis XIV-like chairs are situated around the edges of the space. A frame in gold wood hangs above the space. A working grandfather clock is in a corner. Laura Delchiaro’s beautifully fitted costumes establish that we are in an ostentatious period in France of ribbons, bows, and rich fabric.  

With the iambic pentameter rhyming couplets of the text, La Bête of course is a wink to Molière, his acting troupe and his penchant for presenting satiric plays that poke fun at the aristocracy and hypocrisy.

One gets a sense of the wit and flavour of David Hirson’s dialogue when Elomire (Rylan Wilkie) and Bejart (Josue Laboucane) enter the anti-chamber of the dining room where the dinner is being held. As Elomire, Rylan Wilkie is courtly, erudite, furious and pointed in his distaste for Valere. ‘Cockatrice,’ ‘bombastic ninny,’ ‘dull hypocrite’ are some of the choice words he uses to describe Valere. He barely contains his rage and he slowly expels his anger in careful increments of fury. Balancing him with compassion and concern is Josue Laboucane as Bejart.

We finally see the focus of their ire. Valere (a scene-chewing turn by Mike Nadajewski) explodes onto the scene. It’s almost as if he expects applause for every movement. His costume is tattered, torn, frayed, patched, flamboyant, and sloppy with one ‘sock’ up and one bunched around his ankle. In a word, ‘perfect.’

What follows is a speech (the speech everyone will talk about) that goes on for about 35 breathtaking minutes. It’s a speech that riffs on the food, the hospitality, the host, the ‘admiration’ (not) of Valere for Elomire, performing, life, art, prayer, vinaigrette etc. It’s a speech of stream of consciousness of Valere holding court over the stunned and captive Bejart and Elomire. Nadajewski as Valere is impassioned, clear, crisp, athletic, jumping onto and off of furniture, daring, bold and eye-popping in its invention. In the course of the speech Valere has time to drop his pants, flash his bum, wash his nether regions, later pee into the wings, and generally prove, without a doubt that Elomire is right. This fellow will could not fit into an ensemble.

David Hirson has written a wild speech of such imagination and humour that he has captured the very essence of this narcissistic, self-absorbed, enthusiastic imp of a man. To say that the always gifted Mike Nadajewski has illuminated Valere to a ‘t’ is an understatement. You can also add the other letters of the alphabet that capture him in this explosion of a performance. That speech alone has audiences wondering “how he learned all those lines.” He’s an actor. That’s what he does.

Director, Dylan Trowbridge ably guides Nadajewski in the nuances, subtleties and breathless pacing of the speech as well as the whole performance of the play. There is wit, focus, fun poked and truths told in this production.

Valere is fearless to all but the Princess Conti, a commanding Amelia Sargisson. She is the only one to get Valere to shut up. She is the only one to demand that he do his one man play with the others in the ensemble, who will play all the other parts. This of course turns out to be little more than bit parts for them and another reason for Valere to let loose.  

David Hirson has presented a fascinating argument about theatre: What kind should be done: the populist kind of theatre espoused by Valere, that reveres the mediocre and show-off or the esoteric, intellectual theatre of Elomire that aims for loftier, intellectual heights. The Princess weighs the arguments of both sides and makes a decision as to the kind of theatre she will fund in future.

It’s interesting that to the Princess there is only one or the other kind of theatre to be funded, not both. It won’t escape many that a mix of both is ideal; the popular funds the less popular fare. I loved that David Hirson gets us to ponder that.      

Comment. La Bête is a challenging play to do. It requires a large cast. The iambic pentameter rhyming couplets require a skill and finesse of its cast. It takes a special kind of actor to play Valere to reveal all the nooks and crannies of his wild speeches and still keep a grasp on that huge character. Fortunately Talk Is Free Theatre is a place that does this kind of work, beautifully, as a matter of course, and Mike Nadajewski proves he was born to play Valere, and any other character he choses to play.

Talk is Free Theatre Presents:

Runs until February 11, 2023.

Running Time: 2 hours 30 minutes. (1 intermission)

www.tift.ca

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Live and in person at the CAA Theatre, Toronto, Ont. Presented by Mirvish Productions and the Company Theatre. Playing until February 26.

www.mirvish.com

Written by Andrew Bovell

Directed by Philip Riccio

Set by Shannon Lea Doyle

Costumes by Ming Wong

Lighting by Nick Blais

Sound by Deanna H. Choi

Cast: Alanna Bale

Michael Derworiz

Christine Horne

Daniel Maslany

Tom McCamus

Seana McKenna

Andrew Bovell’s bitter-sweet play about family ties that bind and tear apart is given a beautiful, sensitive production thanks to director Philip Riccio and his cast.

The Story. Bob and Fran Price love each other and their four adult children. Bob took a retirement package when he was made redundant from his job at the automotive factory. He now spends his time in his beloved garden in the backyard, honing, pruning and tending his roses. Fran still works as a nurse. Of their four children, three have moved out and are on their own: Pip is the oldest, is married with children and works as an education department bureaucrat; Mark is an IT specialist whose girlfriend has just broken up with him; Ben works in financial services and has difficulty sustaining a relationship with any girlfriend. The youngest is Rosie who is searching for herself, and what she wants to do. She begins looking in Europe, taking the grand tour, as you do, to try and find herself. She has a heart-breaking experience with a young man she met in Berlin and thought she loved and immediately flies home to the open arms of her parents. (The play takes place in Australia because playwright Andrew Bovell is Australian, but the play is at home anywhere—one of its many beauties).

Fran calls each of the children to tell them that Rosie has returned and they immediately come over to the parents’ house to see their sister. The family dynamic is immediately revealed. Fran knows that something is wrong for Rosie to come home without warning. She assumes it was because of a boy and he hurt her. Bob never intuits this but accepts Fran’s assessment. He just loves his daughter unconditionally. The other children also love Rosie. Pip is harried with work and tending her family. Mark knows his sister Rosie very well—they have a special bond. Ben is always in a rush and never seems to have time to stay. He swoops in, checks the fridge, picks up the shirts that his mother irons for him (leaving his siblings aghast at the mother who would do it and the son who expects her to do it). And there is the gentle chiding of the parents of the children, mainly from Fran. They all could do better. The love is there, but there is the eye-brow-knitted look at something they say or do that suggests that they could do better. Still Fran is the glue of that family. She knows intuitively when something is wrong and that really bugs her children and perhaps Bob too, even though she always guesses right. They all have secrets and they all try to hide them, but they all eventually come out.

The Production. Shannon Lea Doyle has designed a set of the Price family kitchen and the lush garden in the backyard. The garden is full of Bob’s roses, other plants, a shed, and a graceful interesting-limbed tree. This is the elegant, almost womanly looking tree repurposed from the Shaw Festival, now standing in the backyard.

The positioning of Shannon Lea Doyle’s set makes the theatre seem strangely off-kilter. The stage left wall of the kitchen juts out on one side of the backyard-garden. But if you are sitting close to the stage on the house right side, you can’t see some of the kitchen because the wall blocks the view. A bit more thought should have gone into the design, or more exploring of sightlines from all parts of the theatre were in order.

Nick Blais’ lighting creates a moody feel to the production; scenes in silhouette quietly establish harsh, heartbreaking news. Deanna H. Choi’s sound and music of the production, especially Leonard Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat” adds a sense of melancholy as each secret is revealed.

Playwright Andrew Bovell hints from the very first scene that there will be something that turns that family upside down. He then gradually establishes who each of the people are and their relationship to each other.

Director Philip Riccio has carefully staged the busy comings and goings of this family. There is a sense of the heightened activity when all six members are in the kitchen but never a sense that this is chaos. They all know how to maneuver around the small space of the kitchen, show each other love, yet manage to negotiate without any collisions. In a sense, Philip Riccio has created careful chorography. He has also established the intense love this family has for each other. There are touches, stokes of an arm, tender looks, subtle reactions, many and various tactile indications of affection. The children all return often to that home, no matter the chiding from Fran (Seana McKenna). Bob (Tom McCamus) is more easy going, accepting of what they do to a point.  

Perhaps the most telling line is from Fran when Rosie (Alanna Bale) comes home.  Fran says “we can sleep again”. The love of these parents for their children perhaps borders on smothering.  

Seana McKenna plays Fran Price and Tom McCamus plays Bob Price. These actors are rock stars. Nuance, understatement and subtlety pour out of them and resonate with every word and gesture. There is a totally familiar ease with their acting together. They’ve known one another for 50 years and have acted together several times. There is a shorthand of communication. Well, lots of people know each other for a long time and they don’t/can’t create exquisite, breathtaking, tear-gushing work like this. There is respect, appreciation, listening, understanding and love at play here. Their playing leaves you limp in your seat—you are just left breathless at the artistry of these two.   

As Rosie, Allana Bale has the first monologue of the play, talking about her travels and meeting a man with whom she falls instantly in love. It’s a languid speech that builds. Allana Bale is a mass of fluttery hands to punctuate moments, lots of body language and over-reactions. All that fussy business upstages the speech and robs her of making it poignant and quietly resounding. The fussy business continues for the play. In her second big monologue, when she is informing what happened to a character, she often clasped her hands, was generally still and that made the telling simple and compelling. More restraint would be helpful.

Each sibling has a secret that is slowly revealed As Pip, Christine Horne has a smile that hides sadness. The truth comes out when Pip sends her mother Fran a letter from Vancouver where she has gone, leaving her family. As Fran reads the letter in the garden Pip, recites what is in the letter. Christine Horne is almost still in the telling. It’s a performance of subtle awareness by the character and it is stunning. At key moments Fran reacts at the emotion of it all. Mark, as played by Michael Derworiz is obviously gay, but that isn’t his secret. How his parents react is startling. Michael Derworiz gives a performance of quiet resolve and dignity. Happy-go-lucky Ben is played as slightly manic by Daniel Maslany. Ben is determined to race with the high-rollers and this performance shows how hard Ben is working to achieve that end.

Andrew Bovell has written a deeply felt drama of family love with which we can all identify. One of the many impressive things about this impressive writer, is that he writes so well and perceptively about women. His creation of Fran alone delves deep into motherly love, that is both smothering and pointed. Bovell illuminates this woman’s hold on each member of the family and how they all come to rely on her for so many things.   

Comment. Things I know To Be True is a play that will resonate with everyone, no matter if you are a parent or have parents. It is moving, gut-wrenching, funny and universal in its reach. And when you see it, and you should, you will need Kleenex. That is one of the many things I know to be true as well.

Mirvish Production and The Company Theatre present:

Opened: February 5, 2023.

Closes: February 26, 2023.

Running Time: 2 hours, 15 minutes (1 intermission)

www.mirvish.com

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Live and in person, at Théâtre français de Toronto, Berkeley Street Theatre, Toronto, Ont. until Feb. 5.

In French with English surtitles.

www.theatrefrancais.com

Written and directed by Marie-Claire Marcotte

Sound by Gilles Zolty

Projections by Teagan O’Bertos

Lighting by Duncan Appleton

Set and props by Brooklyn Bitner with the collaboration of Rory Jewiss

Costumes by Jeff Chief

A gentle, quirky play about family and forgiveness.

A woman named Corrine (Chanda Gibson) applies to rent a room in a rundown building. She carries a goldfish bowl with fish for “La Petite” (Hannah Forest-Briand), a girl who lives there, it seems. The landlady is Marthe (Genevieve Langlois) a rather curt, unsmiling soul who rents Corrine the room. Another boarder is Fred (Felix Leblanc) who plays the guitar and does errands. He seems a bit developmentally delayed. He works but is teased. La Petite is a lively girl, difficult, and a challenge in school. There is a familiarity between Corrine and Marthe.

The secrets of each character unravel slowly until we learn the stories of each and how they are connected to each other.

The acting of the four is fine, mysterious, funny, confident and bold. The piece is written and directed by Marie-Claire Marcotte. The direction is full of whimsy, impish humour and quiet emotion. The title comes from Corinne’s efforts to flush the dead goldfish down the toilet, only to have them back up in another toilet in the same building. Life continues in strange ways.

The problem with the writer also being the director is that the writer doesn’t know when to cut from the script and the director won’t tell her. Even at 95 minutes with no intermission the piece needs a bit of judicious cutting. Information is repeated in some scenes. The play looked like it was about to end a few times, but then went on.

Perhaps this might help… Fred loves playing his guitar and Marthe has told him to stop, usually when he is in the basement singing and playing loudly. But Marthe realizes this gives Fred pleasure and she has decided not to tell him to stop and just let him play. He plays anyway every time he can. Towards the end, Fred is playing and singing loudly. It’s the first time in the play he’s sung a whole song. He’s surprised that Marthe hasn’t stopped him—in fact she is out. So he continues singing. The song doesn’t need to be there and prolongs the play unnecessarily—the information has already been established–and should be cut. What should be the last scene—all four characters are sitting at the dinner table, eating—is prolonged as well when there is a loud knocking at the door. Corrine goes to the door to deal with the person knocking. She knows who it is. Unnecessary again. In an earlier scene Corinne dealt with the person in a phone call explaining her situation. It was clear and that should have been the end. Her going to the door will only re-iterate the information she told the guy on the phone. Cut this bit. End the play with the four characters eating a communal dinner. It finalizes a lovely moment and does not dilute it with unnecessary stuff.

Presented by Théâtre français de Toronto

Opened: Feb. 1

Closes: Feb. 5.

Running time: 95 minutes (no intermission)

www.theatrefrancais.com

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Live and in person at Theatre Aquarius, Hamilton, Ont. until February 11, 2023.

www.theatreaquarius.org

Written by Clem Martini

Directed by Christine Brubaker

Set by Scott Penner

Costumes by Jennifer Goodman

Lighting by Logan Raju Cracknell

Magic direction by Michael Kras

Sound by Ranil Sonnadara

Cast: Karen Ancheta

Richard Clarkin

Brandon McGibbon

Rebecca Northan

Anand Rajaram

Christopher Stanton

Provocative, wonderfully funny, and wisely thoughtful. A play not about extinction, but about life and it’s beautifully told in this wonderfully wild production.

The Story. The clients of the Extinction Therapist come to him for guidance about their impending demise or more accurately, their extinction. This is not about people with a death wish. It’s more bizarre and complicated than that. The blurb about the show is this:

 “Dr. Marshall’s therapeutic practice offers unconventional group support to those threatened with imminent extinction.  In his current session a libidinous Woolly Mammoth, a testy Nelson’s Short-Eared Shrew, the uncompromising Smallpox Virus, an insecure Tyrannosaurus Rex and the hapless Minister for the Environment, convene to receive group therapy, in an attempt to come to terms with the complicated, volatile feelings associated with their precarious life-and-death circumstances.

When Dr. Marshall’s personal issues are inadvertently introduced, matters of the heart, matters of environmental culpability, and personal mortality become inextricably intertwined.”

Each one of these ‘characters’ has issues of belonging, longing and wanting to prolong their lives.

The Production.  In Scott Penner’s set, Dr. Marshall’s (Richard Clarkin) home office is warm, comfortable and inviting. There are personal knickknacks around the room, an aquarium with fish languidly swimming and a whole back alcove covered with pots and pots of lush hanging plants. Dr. Marshall’s chair is a comfortable one that slightly tips back. The clients sit in chairs that are more rigid. 

As each client arrives, we get the measure of their many and different personalities.   The Woolly Mammoth (Rebecca Northan) appears calm and serene, but is so sex starved that in the group therapy sessions she keeps touching the knee of the politician. The Wooly Mammoth needs to find another Wooly Mammoth to procreate and there doesn’t seem to be any to provide sexual release, hence the knee-groping, albeit a politician’s. The Tyrannosaurus Rex (Christopher Stanton), huge, awkward and ungainly for any ‘room’ it’s in, could not get enough vegetation to maintain itself.  The small Nelson’s Short-Eared Shrew (Karen Ancheta) is constantly mistaken for a rat or rodent and is sick of the mistake.  The Small Pox Virus (Anand Rajaram) is power hungry and angry at losing the power to kill thousands of people, as well as angry at the vaccine that ended its career as a mighty killer. It revels in the fear it evoked as it cut a swath across the world killing thousands of people.  It seems that the loathing the virus has for the world that stopped it is profound.

As for Glen Merrick, the Politician,  he is the Minister of the Environment so that’s a pretty depressing thing. No one can help the environment because big business and the government are doing their best to destroy it.  He has not had an original idea in years. He knows he is ineffectual and it often makes him hyperventilate. And while the therapist is helpful to his clients, asking pertinent questions to get them to look at their doomed situation in a positive light, he has his own issues.

He and his wife, Joan, (also the versatile Rebecca Northan) are separated. He said he needed his space.  She moved out but comes often to check on him. She cares about him but he’s distant and often has an excuse for missing appointments with her.  They were to go to dinner but his clients needed him at the last minute, so he disappointed her. Communication is difficult for this couple. Dr. Marshall is stingy with his information to his wife. He works to avoid telling her personal information.  As Dr. Marshall, Richard Clarkin, is easy-going and always has a compassionate, hopeful question for his clients which could lead to a more hopeful revelation.

Joan, his wife, is more accommodating. She is just as capable of asking a probing question of her husband as he is of asking such a question to his clients. Rebecca Northan has that kind, wise way about this character. Joan’s humanity is all over this performance because of the care Rebecca Northan invests in her.

The production is masterful. Truly. I found director, Christine Brubaker’s direction to be smart, very clever and witty. The size and clumsiness of the Tyrannosaurus Rex is indicated by Christopher Stanton who wears a green helmet; biker shorts, knee and shoulder pads.  He carries a soft kind of curved bag or carrying case along his back and it looks like a short tail of the tyrannosaurus. Christopher Staunton is a good-natured clumsy dinosaur.  It has a ponderous walk in which he seems to bang into everything. Boxes fall when he pushes by them, as does furniture, and all manner of things with which it comes into contact.  Somebody always cleans up after the Tyrannosaurus.  It’s the loss of vegetation that resulted in the animal’s extinction. Interestingly at the back of the space there are several lush hanging plants. I love that irony.

The Small Pox Virus (Anand Rajaram) is in a straight-jacket with the arms tied up and so are the legs in a way—guaranteed not to be able to move properly. It’s very effective. As the Small Pox Virus, Anand Rajaram wears a long stringy wig and a constant look of contempt on it’s face. He is furious at the world and the stupidity of its inhabitants. He would like nothing better than to have wiped them all out.  

Nelson’s Short-Eared Shrew (an accommodating, cheerful Karen Ancheta), a kind of rodent-like creature–eagerly sits on its haunches, good natured.

Glen Merrick (Brandon McGibbon) is the only human client of Dr. Marshall. Glen Merrick is usually in a suit and tie. He is guilt ridden about his uselessness. He is frustrated by his ignorance and hopelessness as the Minister of the Environment. He is so despondent, he sometimes hyperventilates in a therapy session with Dr. Marshall, or in a group meeting. And he has a secret that Dr. Marshall discovers, much to the horror of Glen Merrick. 

I thought Christine Brubaker directed this with terrific good humor, whimsy and such a delicate sense of detail.  There is such thought in the humour and of course lots of drama too.

Clem Martini’s play is provocative, funny and thought-provoking. He has used extinct animals and a virus to illustrate the effects of climate change to change life styles, and the inventions of vaccines to do good and eradicate a deadly virus.

I thought having the animals facing extinction by talking to a therapist to cope with their demise is terrific.  It’s a quirky way of looking at the world, the results of climate change, even from an historical perspective, the notion of loneliness, community, truth, and love.

At the last minute we learn that the therapist is leaving his practice because he too has had some news that has changed the course of his life. How will he deal with it? Will he allow his wife to help him cope? She is the anchor in his life and he realizes it. 

If you have only a few months or years to live then you should spend it living and not fretting,  which is the natural result of a devastating prognosis. The Extinction Therapist posits another way: to live each moment. The Extinction Therapist is not about extinction. It’s about living.

I think that’s terrific. Fascinating play.

Theatre Aquarius presents:

Plays until Feb. 11, 2023.

Running time: 1 hour, 35 minutes, (with 1 intermission)

www.theatreaquarius.org

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Live and in person at the Royal Alexandra Theatre, Toronto, Ont. until March 5, 2023.

www.mirvish.com

Written by David Haig

Directed by John Dove and Josh Roche

Designed by Colin Richmond

Lighting by Tim Mitchell

Composed and sound by Philip Pinsky

Video designer, Andrzej Goulding

Cast: Philip Cairns

Matthew Darcy

Kevin Doyle

Robert Heard

David Killick

Luke Jasztal

Stuart Milligan

Molly Roberts

Laura Rogers

James Sheldon

David Sibley

Malcolm Sinclair

John Vernon

Playwright David Haig has written a play loaded with data and drama about the gut-twisting decisions that had to be made about invading Normandy, and it all depended on that most undependable thing—the weather. The production ramps up the tension and at its centre is a dandy performance by Kevin Doyle who never plays a false or sentimental note.

The Story. Its Friday, June 2, 1944. Dr. James Stagg, a respected British meteorologist, is engaged to advise General Dwight D. “Ike” Eisenhower on whether the weather will be good enough on Monday, June 5 so that Allied troops can storm the beaches of Normandy for D-Day.

Dr. Stagg is a cautious, confident man. He knows what Eisenhower wants – to predict the weather, and English weather at that—is impossible. Eisenhower still wants it. Also at play is that there is an American contingent of advisers with opposing views. Thousands of people’s lives are at stake. Who does Eisenhower trust in order to make such an important decision about when to invade?

The Production. The production opens on a large, rather bare room. There is a desk and chair. There is one phone on the desk. Stage left are double doors with panes of glass that lead outside. Thin cotton curtains hang down in front of the doors. There are shutters that can be pulled to cover the glass—this is war time so blacking out the light is imperative.

Dr. Stagg (Kevin Doyle) enters the room and is immediately irritated with its inadequacy. Saying to himself, that there are not enough phones or desks, or charts or anything that would deem this room a barometric pressure (weather) room. From the get-go, Kevin Doyle as Dr. Stagg is in total control of the seriousness of his task. He is also pre-occupied. His wife is close to giving birth to their second child. Her health is fragile. The previous birth was difficult. So not only does Dr. Stagg have to do the impossible—predict the weather three days hence–he is fretting about his wife’s condition and he can’t go and be with her.

His main opposition to his decisions is Colonel Irving P. Krick (Philip Cairns). Krick has that easy demeanor who calls all women ‘sweet-heart’ and is a jokey ‘man’s man.’ The scenes where Krick and Dr. Stagg spar over data and the history of the data are fascinating.  Dr. Stagg wins the argument with sound facts over Krick’s good humour and breezy demeanor. Again, as Dr. Stagg Kevin Doyle is precise in his arguments, giving the reasoning an urgency. He is under ‘pressure’ to get it right. As Krick, Philip Cairns easily crumbles because he hasn’t got the mental nimbleness that Dr. Stagg does.

When the room is fitted out with another desk, several phones, many charts plotting the high- and low-pressure areas, the various storms in the area and the jet stream (which Cairns questions even exists), the pace and drama of the situation ramps up to warp speed. Sometimes courtesy falls by the wayside when phones are ringing and the calls provide more data to chart how close storms are; how brisk the winds are; if there’s a full moon etc.

In directors John Dove and Josh Roche’s co-direction, entrances of characters are startling in their speed. Doors bang open and characters enter bellowing orders. Malcolm Sinclair as General Dwight D. “Ike” Eisenhower is a commanding presence. He is all military business, giving orders, demanding answers and impatient when he doesn’t get what he wants. He weighs the information carefully in order to make the right decision. There is arrogance in the playing as there is in all the actors playing Americans, it’s almost like a cliché. But with Malcolm Sinclair’s “Ike” it’s earned—“Ike” Eisenhower is the commander of this operation and his commanding attitude is earned.

With other actors playing American’s, not so much. Too often the acting is so much facial and eye-brow squunching. Laura Rogers plays Kay Summersby, a British member of the transport corps. She was Eisenhower’s chauffer for the war and as indicated in the play, had a personal and close relationship with him. Laura Rogers’ scenes with Malcolm Sinclair as Kay and Ike respectively are tender, good natured and sweet, otherwise they are both all business.

The urgency of gathering data rises considerably as time ticks by. The date and time are projected on the back wall of the set. Phones ring frequently providing more data which the characters repeat in a heightened voice, making notes, creating charts. The information is then plotted on the charts to track the storms, etc. The audience gets a sense of the changes happening. The delicate swaying of the curtains in a breeze that then flips with more activity, suggests that a much-needed storm is approaching, as Stagg predicted. That little piece of business makes the audience aware of the barometric changes.

David Haig’s complex, compelling play is full of drama and complex ideas that are gradually made clear. He has captured the various characters who spar, claim space and take it as they wrangle to be the one who is right. Pressure is a play about something no one understands, but talks about all the time—the weather. It will sneak up and move you, like a gust of wind.

Comment. There are so many numbers whizzing in the air in David Haig’s compelling play; so many numbers for latitude and longitude, etc. so much for pressure etc. that the viewer might think they are drowning in incomprehensible data and they will ‘never get it’ and the play goes by, leaving the viewer confused. Forget that; put on your water wings and float on it. This is what those characters needed to give Ike, the information he needed to make a decision. When Dr. Stagg sees the calculations and realizes something, the audience is included in realizing what is happening. Pressure is a bold play about a weekend that changed the course of history.     

Mirvish Productions presents:

Plays until March 5, 2023

Running Time: 2 hours, 30 minutes approx.

www.mirvish.com

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Live and in person a Crow’s Theatre production at the Great Canadian Theatre Company, Ottawa, Ont. Played until January 29, 2023.

www.gctc.ca

Writer and creator, Cliff Cardinal

Lighting by Logan Cracknell

Cast: Cliff Cardinal.

(Perhaps subtle input by Chris Abraham alone for this go-round, who tweaked the original production with Rouvan Silogix in Toronto).

Background. A version of this show opened at Crow’s Theatre in 2021 and was called: “William Shakespeare’s As You Like It—a radical retelling by Cliff Cardinal.”

If one delved into the website of Crow’s they would see the additional title of “The Land Acknowledgement.” The running time was 90 minutes according to the website.

Cliff Cardinal, dressed in black pants, a black t-shirt underneath which was an orange t-shirt (It was Truth and Reconciliation Day) and a black windbreaker, came out from behind the red curtain on stage and began by saying: “My name is Cliff Cardinal and this is my Land Acknowledgement.”

He was charming, smiling, impish, and angry. He was angry at what was happening to Mother Earth, because of pollution, or oil spills and all manner of ills. He hated land acknowledgements no matter who gave them. He had harsh words for the Catholic Church, the rich, (saying they didn’t work hard; a person who picked strawberries worked hard). He went on and on in a measured, theatrical way.  Where was As You Like It?  At about the 45 minute mark of this performance of what turned out to be a one hour show, Cliff Cardinal addressed that very question—where was As You Like It? He said innocently that there was none. He pulled back the curtain to show there was no scenery or even a hint of As You Like It a radical re-telling or otherwise. It was a trick. Cliff Cardinal as a trickster. And we were urged at the end of the show not to give away the trick.

In my review https://slotkinletter.com/?s=As+you+Like+It+a+radical+retelling+by+Cliff+Cardinal

 I felt Cliff Cardinal was giving the audience the finger. I said so in the review. All hell broke loose as a result. Lots of invective to me, (racist, irrelevant, worse) usually from people who didn’t see the show or read the review properly, or misinterpreted it or whatever; some positive comment; some discussion but lots of angry comment at a review that told what I was looking at. I did not play into the trick and the urging of ‘don’t tell what the ruse is.’ I said at the end of the review of the land acknowledgement: “as for As You Like It—I didn’t.”  Fascinating how many of my scribbling colleagues played into it. “As You Like It like you’ve never seen it!” Oh, PULLLLLLLeeeeeeeeeez. The result is that I got more hits on my blog because of that review than I have ever received for any other review. People wrote or called me and said they would not see the show because of the review. I insisted they go. They had to see it for themselves, they could not take my opinion as theirs. They had to see it. One of the mysteries of theatre criticism it seems is that I actually want people to go to the theatre and decide for themselves especially if my review is less than positive. Those folks went as I urged. They all loved it. I could not be more delighted. Another mystery of theatre criticism, we don’t have to agree. We have to be open for discussion. The show was held over twice; the first announcement was made on opening night, before any review; the second holdover was announced soon after the few reviews appeared. I was the notable negative one. Forgive the arrogance, but I am taking full credit for the second hold-over of the show because of the clamor of my review. Another mystery of theatre reviews? They get people to go to the theatre. At least mine seem to do that.

I saw that The Great Canadian Theatre Company in Ottawa was programming the show. Now it was called: As You Like It: a radical retelling. There was no mention on the GCTC website of The Land Acknowledgement. It was still marketed as a radical retelling of As You Like It. Interestingly, Mirvish Productions has programmed something called The Land Acknowledgement or As You Like It. I’m assuming it’s ‘the same show’ only without the trick marketing. I was intrigued. I decided to drive to Ottawa, to GCTC, one Sunday,  to see the show again, to see what I missed.

The Production. The GCTC lobby is fitted out with pastoral pictures that look like they take place in a forest. A character looks like he is a Joker of sorts, playing on that vision of As You Like It.  As I sit in my seat waiting for curtain time, I hear the sounds of birds tweeting and the lilting recorded voice of Ed McCurdy singing a variety of folk songs. It’s all in aid of setting us up for As You Like It.

(I ask the young man beside me why he’s come to this show. He says that he’s studying As You Like It in school and he’s reading the play and is interested in what Cliff Cardinal has to say. The young man rarely goes to the theatre. I ask the woman next to him—he doesn’t know her—why she’s come. She says that she’s Indigenous and she wants “to see him (Cliff Cardinal) smash this play” (presumably a play of the colonizers). I don’t say a word of information about the show to either of them beforehand, and we go our separate ways after, so I don’t ask what they thought.)

The lights dim. Cliff Cardinal comes out—black pants, shoes, t-shirt, jacket, no orange t-shirt under the black t-shirt. I wait for him to say, “My name is Cliff Cardinal and this is my land acknowledgement.” He doesn’t say it. I wait for him to follow that with: “I’m angry.” Nope. He talks about the land on which GCTC is situated in vague terms, like every other land acknowledgement. He then says that he hates land acknowledgements. He hates them said by ‘settlers.’ He hates them said by Indigenous people. He has cutting words for the ‘woke,’ for those professing to be ‘allies,’ for the rich, for the destructive Catholic Church, pedophile priests, nasty nuns, lazy, care-less teachers, anything phony. He does have respect for hard-working strawberry pickers.  

He gently chides the Ottawa audience to keep up and see how what he is saying connects to the land. The land has rivers and streams polluted by industry. There are approximately 7,000 children buried in the land in unmarked graves on the property of former residential schools run by the Catholic Church. There are thousands of Indigenous women and girls missing from the land.

Cliff Cardinal’s piercing laser gaze firmly pins you to the seat, squirming. He’s not flicking his middle digit. It’s much subtler than that. He is an equal opportunity skewerer. He will make everybody squirm with his quiet, devastating truths. He follows every barb with an impish, ‘disarming’ smile, leaving you questioning every assumption you may have had about anything to do with Indigenous culture, colonialism, land acknowledgements and what you think might be true.

He has completely rethought his show, turned it inside out and upside down. He has expanded it, refocused his attention to every aspect of it and clarified various connections. He still has the trick of revealing there is no As You Like It, except as a play on words and he still asks the audience to keep the ruse and not tell. I don’t have such an obligation to the theatre company or the playwright. Revealing the trick doesn’t diminish the importance of this show.   

This is a land acknowledgement like you have never heard before. The result is bracing, brutal and brilliant.

I want every single person who saw William Shakespeare’s As You Like It—a radical retelling by Cliff Cardinal to see the show again in the revised version, as The Land Acknowledgement or As You Like It when it plays the CAA Theatre in March, presented by Mirvish Productions. And if you never saw it before, for whatever reason, see it! The change in the title accurately reveals what this show is about. It needs to be seen, heard, reflected upon, pondered and considered.

Plays at the CAA Theatre March 10-April 2

Running Time: 90 minutes.

www.mirvish.com

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Live and in person presented by Here for Now Theatre, in association with Crow’s Theatre, at the Studio Theatre, Streetcar Crowsnest Theatre, Toronto, until Feb. 12, 2023.

www.hearfornowtheare.com

Written by Dennis Kelly

Directed by Lucy Jane Atkinson

Lighting and sound by Stephen Degenstein

Costumes and set by Bonnie Deakin

Cast: Fiona Mongillo

Note, I saw this magical, gripping production this summer at Here for Now Theatre in Stratford. I am delighted that Crow’s Theatre has brought it here to Toronto for another viewing. I am reprinting my review from the summer, with inserted new comments.

Astonishing in every single way. Fiona Mongillo has deepened her performance with more nuance and controlled brightness. It’s a performance that will have you holding your breath for all of it and then will leave you breathless by the end.

The Story. The Programme says it all without telling the secrets: “An unexpected meeting at an airport leads to an intense, passionate, head-over-heels relationship. Before long they begin to settle down, buy a house, juggle careers, have kids—theirs is an ordinary family.

But then their world starts to unravel and things take a disturbing turn.

Note: Girls & Boys is intended for a mature audience and contains graphic descriptions of violence.”

The Production. Bonnie Deakin has designed a simple white set. There is a large white comfortable chair on the stage floor stage right. There is a squat white round table beside it on the stage floor. There is a glass of water on the table. To the left of the chair and table is a raised, large, white square platform.

Our narrator, who is never named, is played with controlled brilliance by Fiona Mongillo. The play starts with a kind of shock–the lights go up from black and there she is center stage on the platform, her hands in the pockets of her jumpsuit, smiling, waiting for us. I didn’t see the door to the theatre open to let her in. She just appeared ‘out of the black’ noiselessly. Startling and yet now. For the most of the play she stands on the raised platform telling us the story.  

Our narrator details how she was at the airport, in line to check in to go on vacation to Italy. She was rather aimless at the time, not ambitious in work but looking for a good time in Italy. She describes the man in line in front of her, reading a book. He is never named either. Two women, who are described as models, sidled up to him to chat him up and therefore maneuver from where they were at the back of the line, to getting ahead in the line. Our narrator watched at the cheek of the two models and the coolness of the man reading. He knew what was happening. He knew he was being played by these two women and he called them out. He did it in a quiet, thoughtful, direct way. This impressed our narrator no end.  

Next scene,  our narrator is talking to her two children: Leanne and Danny. Danny is younger but both are young enough to challenge their Mother at every turn; about going to bed; about whose toy is whose; about Danny teasing his sister and the Mother trying to keep some kind of control.

Our Narrator is very proud of her now husband and his resourcefulness in business—he sells wardrobes and has found a clever way of making that business pay. He in turn seems to be proud of his wife and cheers her on at every turn. Our Narrator applied for a job in documentary films, that she was sure she was not going to get, but was bold and resourceful in her own right and got the job.

Our Narrator often has conversations with her children. The daughter is accommodating. The  son seems into the violence of the culture—guns etc. The husband’s business was thriving and then there was trouble in the business. We listen, rapt, because of the controlled, compelling way Fiona Mongillo is telling the story.

Fiona Mongillo is recounting the whole breadth of her relationship with this intriguing man she met in an airport line, to getting married and having children to success in business for the both of them, to the unravelling, startling end. One of the many astonishing things about Fiona Mongillo’s performance is that she never telegraphs the less than happy end of the play. So often I’ve seen this in other plays with many other actors, but not here. Not once.

Mongillo goes through Dennis Kelly’s detailed, complex story as if she is reliving every event as if for the first time. There is joy and curiosity as our Narrator recounts the arrogance of the two models who want to get further up in line and will “use” this “innocent” man for their purposes; then he quietly puts these women in their place. Our Narrator sees the value of the character of the man and is further intrigued. Mongillo is buoyant, smiling and almost still in the telling. We don’t need endless movement to engage us. We ‘just’ need a gifted actor who knows the power of the playwright’s words and how to say them that grips the audience.

Mongillo is beautifully partnered by director Lucy Jane Atkinson who is a master of the nuance and subtlety of the piece. There is not one second of showy direction, just the careful, quiet, attention to the detail in the words.

When the Narrator is dealing with her children it is as a carrying Mother who bends down or gets down on all fours to talk to her children on their level. She is not showing them a stance of power by standing over them. She is facing them head on, dealing with them as a concerned parent. There is that give and take between parent and child that is fascinating. The Mother wants them to go to bed now. The kids want to negotiate. As the Mother, Mongillo is careful, patient, controlled, loving, and perhaps trying to give the children what they might want, but still ‘controlling’ the narrative. Fascinating.

The audience is given information during the telling, late in the play that is unsettling. The unravelling begins. It’s not done in a rush, but as controlled as the telling before. This time, the buoyant smile of Mongillo is not there, but she is as compelling because of the calmness of the telling of what happened. Astonishing play and production. Mongillo is such a gifted actor. I found that with this production Mongillo’s Narrator continues in the moment and it’s more emotional, but not distracting from the story.  

Comment. Here for Now Theatre has produced bracing, compelling theatre since it has begun producing this summer festival in Stratford, Ont. Girls & Boys is one of the best they have done, and they have done some pretty fine work. Crow’s Theatre continues to be a leader in this city for producing or co-producing challenging, engaging theatre. There are notices that comment on the content, that it might be challenging to some audience members. Girls & Boys is brilliant theatre with a towering performance by Fiona Mongillo.

Here for Now Theatre in association with Crow’s Theatre presents:

Plays until: Feb. 12, 2023

Running Time: 1 hour, 30 minutes (no intermission).

www.herefornowtheatre.com

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Live and in person at the Marilyn and Charles Baillie Theatre (Berkeley Street), Toronto, Ont. A Red Sky Performance Production Presented by Canadian Stage. Playing until Jan. 29, 2023.

www.canadianstage.com

Directed and choreographed by Sandra Laronde

Set by Julia Tribe

Costumes by Lesley Hampton

Lighting by Matt Eckensweller

Motion graphics, animation and video design by Febby Tan

Composer and sound designers: Rick Sacks, Julian Cote, Pura Fe, Marie Gaudet, Marc Merilainen, Pierre Mongeon

Musicians: Ora Barlow-Tukaki

Marie Gaudet

Rick Sacks

Ian De Souza

Dancers: Daniela Carmona

Kristin DeAmorim

Eddie Elliott

Moira Human-Blaise

Jason Martin

Mio Sakamoto

A powerful telling of Indigenous stories: gripping, moving and uncomfortable.

Comment etc. I don’t know the vocabulary of dance to do justice to describing it in dance terms. But Sandra Laronde and her Red Sky Performance company is so vivid in their storytelling of Indigenous themes and culture, that while I might miss the specific details of her story telling in her choreography, the message she coveys is clear and resounding. Her choreography and her company’s performing of it, are both sensitive and muscular, tender and gripping.

I am using the shows published description for accuracy: “Miigis: Underwater Panther draws its inspiration from a prophecy in which the Anishinaabe must move westward or perish. It is about the great migration of the Anishinaabe from the Atlantic Ocean to the Great Lakes, moving from salt to freshwater.

Miigis explores this journey, the mystery beings, the rise of matriarchy, and the ancestral pull towards the next seven generations.

The 60-minute work will be performed to original live music and showcases the unique aesthetic developed over the company’s 22 years, combining contemporary Indigenous dance, theatrical innovation, and a fusion of athleticism, music, and film.”

Six bodies huddle under a slatted upside-down boat-like structure (kudos to designer, Julia Tribe). They quiver, poke an arm out of the slats, and stand up and then crunch down into the structure. It’s a lovely image of birth either creature, humans, but life of some sort. A huge moon is projected on a wall at the back, stage right and will slowly travel across the ‘sky’ to stage left. The percussive music is harsh, loud, rumbling, cacophonous—the beginning of the world. The ‘creatures’ form into fish, birds, beings that slither, crawl, jump, flip, swim and finally embrace.  

The dark sky projected on the back wall turns into a slow daylight. Vegetation forms in the distance on shore. Water is everywhere, undulating waves approach and recede. Eventually the images take place underwater as the dancers dance as if underwater.

At some point the music turns melodic but then brutal again. There are startling images suggesting residential schools, brutality to Indigenous peoples, beatings, hangings under the gaze of religious overseers. The scenes are short, quick, brutal and unforgettable.

Relationships seem to form. Bodies entwine. Movement is fluid, elegant, athletic, beautiful. Please see it.

A Red Sky Performance Production Presented by Canadian Stage.

Plays until January 29, 2023.

Running Time: One hour (no intermission)

www.canadianstage.com

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Live and in person at the Streetcar Crowsnest, Toronto, Ont. until Feb. 12, 2023.

www.crowstheatre.com

Adapted and directedby Marie Farsi

Based on the novel byAndré Alexis

Set, props and costumes by Julie Fox

Lighting by Kimberly Purtell

Music and sound by David Mesiha

Cast: Laura Condlln

Peter Fernandes

Stephen Jackman-Torkoff

Tom Rooney

Tyrone Savage

Mirabella Sundar Singh

Adaptor-director Marie Farsi and her gifted cast, create a classy, nuanced, compelling production of this award-winning novel.

The Story and Production. Two Greek gods, Apollo (Tyrone Savage) and Hermes (Mirabella Sundar Singh) go into a bar (The Wheat Sheaf Tavern in Toronto)….and while they are drinking their beer and waiting for their wings to arrive, they make a wager. One wagers the other…what would happen if dogs were given human traits, would they die happy? The winner of the wager gives the other a year of servitude (thus in a way indicating one trait of humans, to lord it over another, to make them work for you, not with you. But I digress).

Hermes and Apollo go to a vet’s office in downtown Toronto and open the cages and let about 15 dogs free. The dogs are given a conscience, language and the ability to reason. Three dogs don’t want to leave so they remain in their cages. The rest of the pack of dogs go to High Park.

From that point on the dogs reason, wrangle, and maneuver so that eventually one dog leads and the rest follow. In this case the dog named Atticus (a confident, almost imperious Tyrone Savage) becomes the leader.

He’s described in the programme this way: “Atticus: an imposing Neapolitan Mastiff with cascading jowls.” In fact, it’s interesting to note how the dogs are described: Benjy (Peter Fernandes), a resourceful and conniving Beagle. Lydia (Peter Fernandes): a Whippet and Weimaraner cross, tormented and nervous. Prince (Stephen Jackman-Torkoff): A mutt who composes poetry. Max (Laura Condlln): a mutt who detests poetry. And Majnoun (Tom Rooney): a black Poodle, briefly referred to as Lord Jim. While he’s not described this way in the programme, Majnoun also does not trust other dogs.

So the dogs are described with their likes, dislikes and other esoteric attitudes, just like humans. The dogs have their own language of which they are very protective. Jealousies are formed and signs of aggression appear. There are also questions of individuality and personal freedom.

In director Marie Farsi’s elegant production, the cast wear conventional clothes to convey the kind of dog they are. There are no fur coverings, although Benjy wears a tweed jacket and holds something in his mouth that could be either a twig or a piece of straw and I hope it’s a twig.

For Atticus and his imposing jowls Tyrone Savage, who plays him, wears pants, a t-shirt and a big, grey cowl around his neck, voilà, the jowls. Bravo to designer Julie Fox for this impish, clever solution in conveying what Atticus should look like. Indeed Julie Fox is masterful in her costuming so we see what all the dogs should ‘look’ like. Tyrone Savage’s Atticus sparingly gives a flick of his head, as a dog might do, just to make us always aware that we are watching dogs, but with human traits.

Majnoun played by Tom Rooney, is thoughtful, proud, intellectual and smart. Tom Rooney wears black pants, a black t-shirt, a black leather jacket and his arms hang down in front of him with his hands forming gentle fists to suggest paws. Tom Rooney’s poise conveys Majnoun’s stature, confidence and a watchfulness. Majnoun also learns English and how to speak it.

Tom Rooney is giving a wonderful, performance. It’s nuanced, has these little moments of quiet listening, but like a dog, not a human. He transforms; standing a bit forward, arms hanging down with slightly clenched fists suggesting paws.  Wonderful.

Two of his owners are a literary couple, Nira (a caring, sensitive Laura Condlln) and Miguel (Stephen Jackman-Torkoff) who find him and take him in.  He so likes Nira that he indicates his secret to her—he can speak English. Laura Condlln as Nira is at first incredulous, but then accommodating at this wonder, and enters into that world of belief and trust. Nira and Majnoun have esoteric conversations about philosophy, life, relationships etc. He is protective of her. He doesn’t like Miguel.

One day the couple go away for a short weekend. But something seems to have happened and they don’t come back. Majnoun waits there patiently, determinedly, like a dog would do. He has this unconditional love for the humans—I think that is a dog thing.  Or perhaps it’s reciprocal.

The dogs have jealousies, which is human and there is aggression and death, which could be a human trait or a canine trait. I won’t split fur trying to decide. There are several deaths in the play—there would have to be for the wager to proceed. Some are moving.

André Alexis has written a dense, complex book about a provocative situation—how will dogs deal with having human traits—will that make them happy or unhappy, if they have the learning and dealing with the human traits to allow them to go one way or another. In his book there are existential ideas to consider. Marie Farsi has adapted the book into this play with efficiency and thought.

Her production is inventive, clever, she uses the space well—there are rocks, a fire hydrant and some dog props—again, kudos to Julie Fox for her design.

The cast is generally first rate. They would give a flip of the head, or a woof here or a bark and a kind of prancing walk like a dog, but not overtly, just the hint of that to keep us aware. Stephen Jackman-Torkoff is exuberantly flamboyant as Zeus, Prince and any dog he plays, with Miguel being a bit subdued. Peter Fernandes as Benjy might be playing a conniving Beagle, but he has disarming charm.  It’s interesting that death is considered differently by humans than the Greek gods do. With humans it’s painful, monumental and memorable. If it’s a human grieving for an animal it’s the same as a human grieving for another human. Do the gods even look at death that way? Would they appreciate it if a dog with human traits died happy? Do they know what happy is? Interesting question.

Marie Farsi is a smart director. She stages the action with graceful fluidity. She has a keen eye for the detail in the characters and the story. That said the production seemed long at 2 hours and 40 minutes. I can appreciate that you want to give each dog the personality they had in the book. But somehow the book seemed slim but packed with information, emotion, etc. And because each reader is individual the life of the story and the dogs seemed richer and more compact.

Still, Fifteen Dogs as a theatrical production is a worthy time in the theatre

Crow’s Theatre presents:

Plays until: Feb. 12 (and this is a holdover).

Running time: 2 hours, 40 minutes (with one intermission).

www.crowstheatre.com

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