Search: Dark Heart

At Hart House Theatre, Toronto, Ont.

Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Carly Chamberlain
Set and costumes by Adriana Bogaard
Lighting by André du Toit
Sound by Andy Trithardt
Choreography by Ashleigh Powell
Cast: Christopher Darroch
Tatiana Deans
Dylan Evans
Maggie Hammel
Erik Helle
Sarah Marchand
Shalyn McFaul
Laura Meadows
Megan Miles
Chanakya Mukherjee
Lesley Robertson
Alan Shonfield
Ilan Tzitrin
Laura Vincent
Mike Vitorovich

A lively, funny, production that does not shy away from the thorny problems. The star of the show is director Carly Chamberlain who solves the problems with style and wit.

The Story. Ahhhh the course of true love doesn’t run smooth when you have two stubborn, witty people like Beatrice and Benedick. They lob barbs at each other until a near tragedy makes them realize the inevitable.

Elsewhere in the story, Beatrice’s cousin, Hero is in love with Claudio and he with her. They are to be married. Everybody is happy except the play’s troublemaker, Don John (for this production he is a she named Donna John). Donna John sets up a ruse whereby Hero’s reputation is besmirched. The rumours are believed by some of Shakespeare’s stupidest men, namely Hero’s father and Claudio, who of course don’t do any fact-checking.

The Production. Director Carly Chamberlain has set the play in the 1940s complete with crooning background music to get us in the mood as we file in. She has changed the gender of some characters without disruption to the sense of the play. So Don John is now a woman who is called Donna John but is still listed as Don John in the program. Laura Meadows plays Don John and does not shy away from the darkness or nastiness of the character. Dogberry is now a woman and still hilarious. Verges is a woman as well.

Adriana Bogaard’s set of moving screens is efficient in changing the locations and getting people on and off the stage efficiently.

Shalyn McFaul plays Beatrice and is lively, emotional and takes-no-prisoners when she gets into an argument or debate. Christopher Darroch is a courtly, thoughtful, witty Benedick and a perfect match for Beatrice. As Dogberry, Lesley Robertson makes an art form out of Dogberry’s malapropisms and her sense of the physical comedy in the part is wonderful.

But the real star of the production is director Carly Chamberlain. She has smarts, heart, a keen sense of the theatrical and a clear way of solving the many thorny problems Shakespeare throws in the play. How about that bit about Hero being wrongfully accused of being unfaithful? In the text there is a ploy to convince Leonato (Hero’s father) and Claudio, her intended, that the night before her wedding Hero was visited at her bedroom window by a fellah, not her fiancé. Leonato and Claudio were there to see it, although it was dark and they only saw shadows. In fact it was Margaret, a servant in the house who was at Hero’s window, talking to a man she knew, one of Don John’s henchmen.

How this comes out at the wedding is tricky. Margaret is there at the wedding hearing Claudio accuse Hero of talking to a man at her window. Many directors are defeated by how to reveal Margaret’s realization it’s she he is talking about. But not Carly Chamberlain. She handles the intricacies of the scene beautifully and clearly as Sarah Marchand as Margaret lets us know subtly of her discomfort at the realization and the reality is resounding.

No does Chamberlain shy away from the thorny issue of the ending. Hero has been wrongfully accused of unfaithfulness by her father and fiancé. She can handle a hurt father, but what to do about an easily duped boyfriend, soon to be her husband? Again Chamberlain does not go for a neat, happy ending. How she handles the last scene makes us squirm just a touch and smile at the irony of it. Yup, Carly Chamberlain is the star of the show. She has created a terrific time in the theatre. Don’t you dare miss this!

Hart House Theatre Presents:

Opened: Nov. 4, 2016.
Closes: Nov. 19, 2016.
Cast: 15; 7 men, 8 women
Running Time: 2 hours 15 minutes.

www.harthousetheatre.ca

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At the Young Centre for the Performing Arts, Toronto, Ont.

Written by Michel Tremblay
Translated by John Van Burek and Bill Glassco
Directed by Gregory Prest
Set and Costumes by Yannik Larivée
Lighting by Rebecca Picherack
Sound by Christopher Stanton
Cast: Damien Atkins
Jason Cadieux

Michel Tremblay’s stunning play explores identity, relationships, a vanishing order replaced by change and acceptance.

The Story. It’s 3 am, Halloween, Montreal. Hosanna is a hairdresser who is also a drag queen. Hosanna, the real name is Claude, has just come home from a Halloween party where she (when referring to Hosanna I will use the feminine pronoun, when referring to Claude I will use the masculine) is dressed as Elizabeth Taylor playing Cleopatra in the movie Cleopatra. Hosanna worked on the costume and wig for weeks, sewing on sequins etc. in preparation for the Halloween party given by her friend “Sandra” another drag queen. Hosanna’s makeup and sequins were perfect. And when she made her grand entrance at the party she realized a great joke had been played on her. She was humiliated and left.

When Hosanna’s lover Cuirette (real name Raymond) comes home the full force of Hosanna’s anger and humiliation is evident as are many aspects of that relationship and how each person deals with it.

The Production. Hosanna lives in a cramped, sad bachelor apartment. The neon sign from across the street flashes on and off and even blinds can’t block out the blinking light. A small, shoddy copy of Michaelangelo’s David is on the crowded coffee table. An erotic painting by Cuirette hangs on the wall. A cluttered make-up table with a mirror are stage right. Up at the back along the wall is a black curtain of sorts. Kudos to set designer Yannick Larrivé

Hosanna stands at the window with the blinking light lamenting what has happened to her at the party and admitting that she knew it would happen. Hosanna wears a long, maroon gown with sequins, a black wig with strands of hair encased in gold at the ends. She wears low heels.

When Cuirette comes home on his motorcycle we hear the roar of the engine and see the lights shining in the window. He wears a black t-shirt, a black leather jacket, jeans, black leather chaps over the jeans and biker boots. (all that leather, hence the nick-name ‘Cuirette’). And he’s roaring with laughter at what happened to Hosanna at the party. Hosanna and Cuirette have been together for four years but one senses it’s been hard going between them. Cuirette is a loud-mouthed rough-house kind of guy. As played by Jason Cadieux, Cuirette is a strutting, boorish biker. He also has a sense of despair at what is happening to his old haunts. He used to be able to go to Parc Lafontaine for ‘some action’, but the place is now so lit up there is no where to hid in any shadow. He laments that change.

Through Act I Hosanna paces and smokes. She is raging-furious at what has happened. As Hosanna, Damien Atkins conveys that rage and anger with a steady fury. His baritone voice fluctuates but the anger is steady. We assume that the reason for all this fury will be revealed; it seems to be anger at what happened at the party and Sandra who keeps calling to taunt.

In Act II we do learn what happened to Hosanna at the party and also the small, cruel world she inhabits. Here anger and bitterness combines and continues

The concern is that Atkins’ performance lacks nuance and variation. Hosanna is not just consumed by anger, but is also depressed, heart-broken, humiliated, embarrassed and brimming with despair. One would have hoped that director Gregory Prest would have spent more time helping Atkins find these subtle variations to give a more complete performance of this intriguing character in Act I and then dig equally deeper in Act II when we do learn the truth about the party and her relationship with her lover.

Along with Atkins’ performance there are two other directorial choices that cause me concern and make my eye-brows knit.

At a point in the play Cuirette pulls down the dark curtain at the back revealing a wall sized mirror with two side panels that jut out from the wall thus giving a multi-sided view of anyone (Hosanna) looking in the mirror. Are we on Broadway one wonders? For some reason director Gregory Prest and designer Yannik Larrivé are not satisfied with the mirror in the vanity table stage right. The result is that that huge mirror upstage pulls focus and takes us out of this cramped space and in a sense out of the play. Hosanna looks at herself from various angles and so do we in this overpowering mirror. Hmmmm?

At the end of the play Raymond, not Cuirette—but Raymond– makes a heart-felt declaration to Claude—not Hosanna, but Claude. And Claude makes an equally startling declaration to Raymond. It’s a very moving moment, but then Prest confuses the moment by having Raymond pick up Claude as if he is a woman being taken over the threshold. Ok, I can appreciate that it’s a director’s choice. But the stage directions say this: “Raymond gets up, goes toward Claude, and takes him in his arms.” It does not say, “takes him UP in his arms.” The playwright is telling all who read the text how that scene is played. Of course the director can ignore it, which he’s sort of done, and the result does not work considering what Claude says to Raymond.

For a provocative image, Gregory Prest has misinterpreted the last moment and rather than creating a moment that is heart squeezing, it’s eye-brow knitting and confusing.

Hosanna is a deeply moving emotional roller coaster of a play about love, relationships, identity, change and recognition. Gregory Prest’s production is sadly disappointing and doesn’t come close to giving the emotional wallop this play should give.

Comment. Michel Tremblay’s 1973 play, Hosanna, with a beautiful translation by John Van Burek and Bill Glassco, is a biting, abrasive, moving work that looks at the world of drag queens, gays, relationships and change, topics that Tremblay loves to explore. Tremblay has chronicled this ever changing world in his plays, but Hosanna is that special thing. I wish this production could have captured that.

Produced by Soulpepper

Opened: Sept. 28, 2016.
Closes: Oct. 15, 2016.
Cast: 2 men
Running Time: 2 hours 15 minutes. Approx.

www.soulpepper.ca

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At the King’s Theatre, Edinburgh, Scotland.

Written by Tennessee Williams
Directed by John Tiffany
Designed by Bob Crowley
Lighting by Natasha Katz
Movement by Steven Hoggett
Sound by Paul Arditti
Music by Nico Muhly
Cast: Michael Esper
Cherry Jones
Kate O’Flynn
Seth Numrich

Revelatory. Director John Tiffany has envisioned a production of a family damaged and bewildered by life but survive as best they can. In Cherry Jones’ performance as Amanda is a woman who loves her children; is pragmatic about their futures and determined that they do the best they can. I will never think of this play in the same way after seeing this production.

The Story. We all know the story, don’t we? This is a memory play. Tom Wingfield remembers the specific details that took place in less than one week, years before. Tom was a disappointed man working in a shoe factory, hating it, yearning for adventure, and eager to be a writer-poet. His mother Amanda Wingfield and his sister Laura are really at the centre of his memory, but it is Laura that haunts his memory. Laura is painfully shy and has a slight limp caused by polio. In her high school days she wore a brace and she thought that it crashed ‘like thunder’ when she walked. She has imagined that limp and clump to such an extent that she has been emotionally and psychologically crippled by it.

Her mother felt it imperative that Laura make her own living and be independent. So she put her into a business course to learn how to type and perhaps work in an office. A failure. Laura could not cope with the pressure of a simple speed test; threw up in the class and never returned. She spent her days walking; going to the zoo and the movies. Anything not to let her mother know.

Amanda took her to church socials. Another failure. Laura didn’t talk to anyone and no one talked to her. She keeps glass figurines. Polishes them. Protects them. The most precious is a glass unicorn. She plays old records. She has no other life. Amanda feels that the last possibility for Laura is marriage. She asks Tom to bring home a ‘gentleman caller’ for dinner in the hopes that a relationship could develop. Tom brings home Jim O’Connell whom Laura knew in high school. She probably loved him then. She can’t bring herself to be at the table with him now. She almost faints. She spends the dinner laying on the couch. Jim coms out to see how she is after the dinner. Secrets and longings are revealed. Truths are told and reality is faced. We ache for a relationship to develop and think of what might have been. We sense his marriage to Betty will not be happy for him.

Years later, after Tom left the family to join the Merchant Marines Tom he is haunted by Laura. He sees her everywhere, in reflections in windows, in bars, on the street. He asks her to blow out her candles, I would assume, so he can go on with his life, unhaunted.

The Production. This is a variation on the production that opened in Boston in 2013 and then went to Broadway with Cherry Jones playing Amanda. It is in Edinburgh with Jones reprising her role but with three new actors. And no I won’t be comparing the various incarnations of the Boston, Broadway and Edinburgh productions because that’s just not fair.

This is such a collaborative effort, aside from the cast. Director has envisioned a memory play that has been realized by the spare, simple, evocative design of Bob Crowley; the moody lighting of Natasha Katz; the evocative music of Nico Muhly and the subtle sound scape of Paul Arditti.

The playing area is composed of two octagonal spaces, close together, floating in black reflective water—I call it the ‘memory goo’ because often Laura, Tom and Amanda look over the edge to see their reflection or their past or future. Several levels of fire escapes rise straight up stage left. There are no walls so the picture of the absent father does not hang where we can see it on stage. It hangs where the Wingfield family can see it, in the audience, a constant reminder of his absence. Interesting that Amanda would still hang such a photo in sight, reminding them of the man who deserted them. One illuminated glass figurine, the unicorn, Laura’s prized possession, rests on a table downstage centre. Director John Tiffany is being clear—you only need that one special figurine—the unicorn. An old couch is upstage centre. Stage right is a table and chairs. Behind that is a room divider.

When Tom speaks of being a magician there is no indication of magic—no match is lit, nothing appears from his sleeve. But magic does happen in the appearance of his mother Amanda from behind the room divider and later his sister Laura, as he pulls her out from the cushions of the couch. Memory is hazy. These two images do nicely to illuminate that.

Food is eaten in an exaggerated mimed way by Tom as he grabs across the table and hauls in imaginary food as if he’s just won a jackpot of gambling chips. While his mother Amanda watches him with concern she can’t let a chance go by in telling him to eat slower; chew more thoroughly; and allow the secretions to work on the digestion. As Amanda, Cherry Jones chides with a sense of concern and delicacy. While Amanda prides herself on her gift for conversation she never seems to know when to shut up, whether it’s telling Tom how to eat or when she is greeting the Gentleman Caller. It’s all done with grace by Jones, and we marvel at the ease in which Amanda does go on because of Jones’ wonderful, nuanced performance. But one can see how it all could grate on her son. She is in his face; she pushes him to do better; she leans in to grab him with a stare. She is emotionally large and perhaps that makes her seem physically large. Cherry Jones as Amanda is tall but not a large woman. But that huge personality fills that cramped apartment

When he loses his temper about her questions of where he goes at night and calls her terrible names, she vows to never speak to him again until he apologizes. It’s a vow she can’t keep. She flares up in hurt anger, but easily forgives. She forgives Tom in a way that suggests they are allies in an effort to save the family. She softens and forgives Laura for her deception in a protective, concerned way.

When he comes home drunk that night it’s Laura who lets him in and comforts him. He gives her a scarf he got from a magician. He wonders how you can escape from a nailed-shut coffin with just a wave of a scarf. When he is asleep, Laura waves the scarf over him—the implication is clear—in the hopes he can escape or find some kind of peace.

Michael Esper as Tom is not an overtly brooding man. While he is frustrated by his circumstances he does have an out and that is to leave St. Louis and join the Merchant Marines. I think that keeps him pretty even in his emotions. His mother is the one who presses his buttons. Esper flares; his voice and ire are strong as he expresses his anxiety of having his every movement questioned.

His relationship with Laura is always loving. He shares with her a kind of impishness as Amanda launches into another recollection of her lively youth. They share sly smiles. Tom wants to tease and Laura wants to humour her mother. When Tom and Amanda are united in good will, as they talk on the fire escape, he puts his head on her shoulder. That is a moment of such tenderness I suck air.

But it’s the first time I really dwell on Tom being selfish. He takes the money meant for the paying the utility bill to pay for his membership to the Merchant Marine’s. Now let me see if I have this right. I realize that his salary does pay, in large part, for the rent of the apartment and that Amanda supplements Tom’s funds with the meager money she makes at odd jobs. But Tom has money to go to the movies whenever life at home gets too claustrophobic and he needs some escape. He has money for cigarettes. Amanda figured out how much it costs and finds it’s not much. But when you factor in the drinks he has when he goes to a bar and the money it would take to pay for the show in a bar—surmising one would have to pay. Well it adds up, and I bet it adds up to enough money to pay his own Merchant Marine’s Membership. But he doesn’t deny himself. Still I do get a sense of Tom being conflicted between his mother and sister and his yearning for something better.

Kate O’Flynn is an intriguing Laura. The limp is slight. She walks with her right leg turned in considerably. I can imagine that young woman had polio. She talks in an almost child-like voice. I can understand that too since she never gets out of the house and deals with other people except her Mother and brother. (and perhaps Mr. Garfinkel when she’s asking to pay by credit.) I can believe that Amanda is her mother. They both have a kind of steel to them. Amanda’s is obvious. Laura’s is too but in a different way. Rather than tell her Mother she quit the business college, she walked the streets all day so as not to be at home. Both women tend toward the dramatic and I get the sense Laura picked it up from her Mother. Laura couldn’t take any kind of pressure and got sick to her stomach when she had to do a typing test, or had to sit at the table with Jim O’Connor, the Gentleman Caller. Amanda didn’t go to her induction into the DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution group) because she was sick at the stomach when she was embarrassed when she found out that Laura had dropped out of the school and didn’t tell her.

As the Gentleman Caller, “that long delayed but always expected something that we live for”, Seth Numrich is gracious, courtly, impressively assured and charming. We can also see that shaft of disappointment that he is not as far along in his life as he expected. He is perceptive and can size up the reason he has been invited to dinner, but is not put out about it. He can see that Tom is headed for trouble at the warehouse. He can see how shy Laura is and tries to coax her into conversation. While he does speak kindly of his situation, that he’s engaged to Betty, we get the sense that this is not a perfect match. He has to leave to pick her up at the train station and he has to be on time. You sense Betty holds a tight leash here.

We also sense from this exquisite production, that Jim and Laura are perfect for each other. And they fall in love in that one scene they have in Act Two. Laura has always been in love with him from afar. She bore the embarrassment of coming in late to choir class because she could sit across the aisle from him in that class. He knew of her then and was curious when she missed classes, but at this dinner he really gets to know her. She represents a witness to his former glory in high school. She praises his singing. She had seen him in the Pirates of Penzance three times. She knew how gifted he was then. She knew his potential. He got her to talk to him and when she did you can see Kate O’Flynn gear herself up to ask about his singing. That starts them talking. Numrich gets a bit more shine to him when talking to Laura.

When he kisses her it’s with passion and she returns the kiss. Electrifying. We can see promise in this relationship and when it doesn’t work out, is heartbreaking. But something else is at play in their one scene too. When Jim shows Laura how to dance they are both easy and comfortable to the point that Laura leans out with her arm wide and accidentally whacks the figurine and breaks the horn off. In other productions it’s usually Jim who bangs into the table with the figurine and he is mortified. Here it’s Laura which completely changes the dynamic.

This wrenches her into reality. She controls herself at this turn of events because she doesn’t want to make Jim feel any worse than he already does. While the figurine is now ‘ordinary’ she gives it to Jim as a souvenir. We hold our breaths as he explains to Amanda why he has to leave. When Laura goes to the Victrola for some solace in her records Amanda suggests she not do it. Laura sits on the floor; looks into the dark water and flicks the broken horn into it. All this is emotionally draining because we all have so much invested in these characters.

Comment. I have never felt that Amanda was a monster as some have said she is. I see a mother desperate for her children to succeed. She is tough on Tom because he has capabilities to live in the world. She

Some lines and scenes have been cut to keep things spare. I miss the lines when Amanda calls a friend to renew her subscription to the Lady’s Home Companion and she agrees to renew. I just want to see Amanda win just once, besides having Tom say he will try and bring home a gentleman caller. She is thwarted so often in her life that one victory is for the audience as much as Amanda. A line from the first London production has been added when Tom invites Laura to come with him to the movies. She is his champion. She acts as a buffer between him and Amanda.

John Tiffany has created a revelatory production. He has dug deep into the play and illuminated the characters and their situations in a way that is humane and heartbreaking. Cherry Jones has created a performance as Amanda that just gets richer and more complex and always deeply human. The other three rise to the occasion too. Loved it.

First performance: August 5, 2016
I saw it: August 8, 2016.
Closes: August 21, 2016
Cast: 4: 2 men, 2 women
Running Time: 2 hours 45 minutes.

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At the Ed Mirvish Theatre, Toronto, Ont.

Book by Dennis Kelly
Based on the book by Roald Dahl
Music and lyrics by Tim Minchin
Directed by Matthew Warchus
Choreographed by Peter Darling
Set and Costumes by Rob Howell
Lighting by Hugh Vanstone
Sound by Simon Baker
Illusion by Paul Kieve
Cast: Paula Brancati
Aiden Bushey
Dan Chameroy
Keisha T. Fraser
Hannah Levinson
Anthony MacPherson
Brandon McGibbon
Riley O’Donnell
Darcy Stewart

Roald Dahl’s dark comedy about a spunky girl named Matilda who had smarts, common sense and a love of books and her evil parents and others who try to thwart her, brought to beautiful life in this glitzy musical.

The Story. Matilda Wormwood is a precocious, curious, smart kid. She loves reading. However her parents are horrors. Her father wanted a boy and does not acknowledge Matilda as a girl. He criticizes her love of reading. He’s a shady character who sells defective cars to get rich quick. Her mother is more interested in her sexy dance partner than she is in being a good mother. The head mistress in the school, Miss Trunchbull hates kids and picks on Matilda. Matilda does find comfort in the library with the kindly librarian, Mrs. Phelps. Matilda also has a champion in her teacher Miss Honey. Alas Miss Honey is meek and is bullied by the odious Miss Trunchbull. Is there a happy ending to this dark story? Of course. Never try to push around a scrupulously honest, fair-minded kid who read most of the classics by the time she was three years old.

The Production. Director Matthew Warchus has imagined a big, neon-coloured world for Matilda. In Rob Howell’s set there is a backdrop of letters in various sizes and colours that sometimes spell out Matilda’s name or other words. They are all representative of her world—reading. Similarly Howell’s costumes, garish sometimes, austere sometimes, witty always. Matilda is dressed conservatively in the school uniform—dark skirt, blazer and simple blouse. The other students are in various degrees of messy. Matilda is pristine. She carries a brief case that is also a back pack. She looks like a miniature accountant. As played by the formidable Hannah Levinson, Matilda is serious, almost humourless (this is a kid who has not been raised with humour or a sense of fun), desperate for affection, wise, with a sense of justice and fearless in trying to get justice where she thinks it’s lacking, which is just about everywhere. And Ms Levinson can sing with a strong set of pipes for one so young. She has a talent that is impressive no matter what age she is.

Matilda’s horrible parents are played by the agile and creative Brandon McGibbon as her father and Darcy Steward as her flouncy, bubble-headed mother. The odious, mean-spirited Miss Trunchbull is played by the steely-eyed, purse-lipped, smirking, tight-voiced Dan Chameroy. This is a focused, controlled performance of frightening and funny intimidation.

All the children shine with their many and various performances. They sing and dance well and are not too cloying.

Warchus throws in all sorts of glitz, glitter and eye-popping effects, the stuff that’s de rigueur in today’s musicals and it’s done very well. There is perhaps one moment of sentiment when Miss Honey shows Matilda kindness—Matilda hugs Miss Honey after a long pause. While this is the dark world of Roald Dahl’s book, we do have to see that Matilda does know how to return affection even if she’s had none in her life.

Comment. I’m a fan of all of Roald Dahl’s kids’ books. I like that prickly, edgy, almost pointed world he creates, matched by his really dark adult short stories. I think Matilda, The Musical really captures the dark world of the book, and puts its own spin on it.

It was heartening to see parents and their kids of many and various ethnicities seeing this show.

David Mirvish Presents the Royal Shakespeare Production of:

Performances began: July 5, 2016.
I saw it: July 31, 2016.
Closes: Nov. 27, 2016.
Cast: 24; 15 men, 9 women.
Running Time: 2 hours, 30 minutes

www.mirvish.com

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At the Festival Theatre, Shaw Festival, Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ont.

Music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Book by Hugh Wheeler
From an adaptation by Christopher Bond
Directed by Jackie Maxwell
Music Direction by Paul Sportelli
Choreography by Valerie Moore
Designed by Judith Bowden
Lighting by Alan Brodie
Sound by John Lott
Cast: Kyle Blair
Andrew Broderick
Benedict Campbell
Kristi Frank
Jeff Irving
Patty Jamieson
Corrine Koslo
Marcus Nance
Jay Turvey

An over-all chilling but strangely bloodless production, with a few quibbles.

The Story. This bloody and gory story is based on a penny-dreadful that goes back more than 100 years to the 19th century. In the C.G. Bond version, the basis for the adaptation, the author says that there have been at least six versions of Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Stephen Sondheim’s is the one we will remember. A musical about a crazed man who gets revenge on the people and others who wrongfully accused him of a crime—Sondheim continues to push envelopes in his musical journey.

Before he was Sweeney Todd, his name was Benjamin Barker. He was a barber in London. He was happily married to the lovely Lucy and they just had a baby named Joanna. But there was an unscrupulous judge, Judge Turpin and his equally scummy Beadle. The judge wanted Lucy as his own so he trumped up a charge against Benjamin Barker and got rid of him by sending him to prison for life to Australia. He then made the moves on Lucy.

After 15 years Barker escaped and came back to London to find his family and seek revenge. He changes his name to Sweeney Todd. He goes to his former barber shop above Mrs. Lovett’s Meat Pie Shop. She remembers him and tells him what happened to his family—Lucy committed suicide and the Judge took Joanna as his ward to raise her. This sends Sweeney off the rails. Together he and Mrs. Lovett plot and plan what to do with the Judge, the Beadle and anyone else in his way. It involves giving them the closest shave they’ve ever had—code for slitting their throats. What to do with the bodies? Well, with the price of meat now a days…. If you get my drift. Very resourceful is Mrs. Lovett.

The Production. Director Jackie Maxwell and her creative team of Judith Bowden (design), Alan Brodie (lighting), John Lott (sound) and Valerie Moore (choreography) have created a generally gripping, compelling production of this haunting, unsettling musical. They have realized the sense of desperation and need for vengeance and how fraught those times and situations are, certainly for Sweeney.

Judith Bowden’s set is on two levels with lots of nooks and crannies fit for hiding and mystery. Parts of the set lift and move and are used to powerful effect with Sondheim’s melodic (you read that right) and chilling score (beautifully prepared and conducted by Paul Sportelli). Valerie Moore’s choreography creates a cohesiveness and a gracefulness to this dramatic chorus.

This is a musical of shadows and cold, white light thanks to Alan Brodie’s lighting. The effect is eerie, forbidding, and makes one look behind his/her shoulder.

While the musical is set in the 19th century and the lead characters dress in the garb of that time, Jackie Maxwell has blurred the lines by having some of the chorus dress in modern clothes: black skirts, shirts and pants, suggesting a certain timelessness to the musical. As we know, the world is full of crazed people seeking revenge on the most people.

The performances of Benedict Campbell as Sweeney and Corrine Koslo as Mrs. Lovett are very strong. Campbell’s Sweeney is seething with rage at an unjust society and system that could let an innocent man be unfairly charged and deported and could let an innocent woman be abused and violated without anyone helping her. Is Sweeney insane? That’s part of the mystery of this damaged man. Campbell nimbly shifts and plays the angles as he both depends on and manipulates Mrs. Lovett. And when he makes a terrible discovery about a bothersome Beggar Woman it’s heartbreaking. Campbell is a commanding, intense singer.

Koslo’s Mrs. Lovett is a woman who can’t afford to have scruples because they are too costly when she is trying to eke out a living. She makes meat-pies. They are disgusting by her own admission. Meat is expensive. Sometimes she looks elsewhere for filler. Then she gets a bright idea what with all of these bodies piling up from Sweeney’s close shaves. Koslo is that wonderful combination of impishness and cold-bloodedness. Mrs. Lovett adores Sweeney and always has. Desperation to keep him drives her. Koslo too is nimble as she has to think on her feet to avoid various close calls. Her singing for Mrs. Lovett is appropriately shrill. She negotiates Sondheim’s tricky lyrics with ease and humour.

As Anthony Hope, the man who rescues Sweeney as he floated on a makeshift raft in the sea, Jeff Irving is a sweet innocent, open-hearted, and a beautiful singer.

As the Beggar Woman, Patty Jamieson is scatological and a woman of mystery who weaves in and out of the story. Jay Turvey is an oily, dangerous Beadle.

There is much to recommend this production, but I have concerns. While Alan Brodie’s lighting sets the eerie tone, I am confused in the very first scene. Two characters are doing something facing upstage in the shadows and it’s not clear what it is. Are they beating someone? They both seem to overwhelm to other characters but it’s not clear what they are doing. As soon as they finish a piercing whistle blows and steam shoots up from the floor. Are these characters responsible for some mischief here with the steam? It’s not a good thing to start this show with confusion.

When the chorus appears for the first time in cold, white light to sing their stark warning to “attend the tale of Sweeney Todd” the visual effect is arresting but the sound is so amplified that it is ear-splitting and hard to listen to these prophetic lyrics. That volume should be lowered. The result will be more effective.

While Judith Bowden’s set creates the dark world of the story, the geography of the last scenes in the bake-house is confusing. Initially we are to assume that the bake-house for the pies is up stage with a turn stage left. A glow of light appears behind a wall. But when Sweeney dispatches a character to the bake-house he just pushes the person to the back wall and the whole back wall glows. That makes no sense. Is the bake-house to the left or against the back wall?

Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is a musical about a crazed man who slits the throats of his various customers. Yet there is no blood during the slitting. We do see blood on the shirt of a character who has been dispatched from the barber shop to the bake-house below but none when his throat is cut. I know it’s a deliberate decision. I just don’t know why and I think it’s a mistake. I know we can see blood, guts and gore on the 6 o’clock news, but that does not mean we are numbed to such violence, and certainly not in the theatre. Blood squirting from a razor stuns the audience, grips them. Having no blood seems to lesson the horror of the scenes.

So, on the whole I like this production, but with concerns.

Comment. Stephen Sondheim once again takes an unlikely story—a penny dreadful—and crease a meaningful, moving, unsettling story about an initially innocent, decent man being removed so that an odious man can make the moves on his wife. It’s the story of the haves and the have nots. It’s a world of cynicism and manipulation. His lyrics and intricate music create the world of the story and the complexity and desperation of the characters. And he makes you care about all of them.

The Shaw Festival Presents:

Opened: July 31, 2016.
Closes: Oct. 19, 2016.
Cast: 22; 12 men, 10 women.
Running Time: 2 hours, 45 minutes.

www.shawfest.com

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At the Young Centre for the Performing Arts, Toronto, Ont.

Written by Arthur Miller
Directed by Alan Dilworth
Set and lighting by Lorenzo Savoini
Costumes by Gillian Gallow
Sound by Thomas Ryder Payne
Selected cast: Kawa Ada
Kevin Bundy
Meegwun Fairbrother
Peter Fernandes
Gordon Hecht
Stuart Hughes
John Jarvis
Courtney Ch’ng Lancaster
Diego Matamoros
Alex Poch-Goldin
Brendan Wall
William Webster.

Arthur Miller’s play about the power of fear, rumour and uncertainty packs a wallop of emotion in this gripping, butt-tightening production.

The Story. We are in Vichy, France in 1942. Nine men have been summoned by the authorities and they don’t know why. They wait impatiently for the various French and German soldiers to summon them to be interrogated behind closed doors.

The men vary in ethnicity, nationality, religion and social strata. Lebeau is a painter who is anxious, nervous and on edge at the uncertainty as to why they are there. Bayard is an electrician, thoughtful but concerned. He reasons out every argument. Leduc is a matter-of-fact doctor, perceptive of the world. Von Berg is an Austrian Prince, privileged, embarrassed by it. Marchand is a successful businessman who seems unconcerned for the most part except he’s anxious to get out of there for an appointment. Monceau is an actor; he too is reasoned about what is happening but concerned. There are three unnamed men: a boy who is mainly silent, a Gypsy who is very nervous about the summons and a Waiter who tries to find comfort in the fact that he knows one of the soldiers doing the interrogation. They are called in one by one to be questioned.

The Production. Director Alan Dilworth begins the production in darkness when the sound of a speeding train blasts across the stage; the sound of the train whistle pierces the air. The men sit on a bench waiting to be called. Other men are brought in so they are tightly packed on that bench.

They imagine, theorize and guess why they are there. Initially none is more vocal than Lebeau, a beautifully fidgety, excitable Peter Fernandes. Is it simply to check that their papers are legitimate? Is it to tell if they are Jewish? What will happen? They are frightened by rumours about work camps that really aren’t work camps. Monceau, a calm convincing Kawa Ada, can’t believe that a people who could love art as the Germans do could consider torturing people. There are laws that protect.

The men try to cope with something they cannot control. The audience has the benefit of hindsight and knows the truth about those rumours. They also know the metaphor of a racing train in the darkness, its whistle piercing the night. Being packed tightly on that bench can be a metaphor for a train going to a concentration camp.

Slowly, gradually Dilworth builds tension out of anxiety. Most of the men sit on that bench, some squirming in hopes of relief for their fear. One or two get up to walk around but that’s it. One by one the men are summoned. Two return from the interrogation, most do not.

The cast is superb headed by Diego Matamoros as Von Berg, an Austrian prince and Stuart Hughes as Leduc. Matamoros’s Von Berg is aristocratic, courtly, reasoned, guilt-ridden and holds out for hope. As Leduc, Hughes tries to contain his anxiety. He is determined to escape but knows it might be futile. There is not one weak link in this stunning production.

Alan Dilworth has directed a gripping, heart-thumping, butt-tightening. production. Dilworth shines a laser beam of light on Arthur Miller’s taut play full of moral and ethical dilemmas and how people react to them, given the situation. With every revelation we watch with ever-increasing tension, from jaw to fist on down. Our hindsight only adds to the emotional weight of the play.

Comment. Arthur Miller wrote this Incident at Vichy in 1964. He wrote it to show how the Holocaust was possible—not only to target and murder 6 million Jews, but to target and murder Gypsies, politicals, homosexuals, those with mental and physical deformities–and he did it by putting several men of different backgrounds packed tightly on a bench, waiting. The uncertainty breeds rumour, which breeds anxiety, which breeds fear and submission. This being Arthur Miller there are questions of moral consequence. Would you betray a stranger to save yourself? Would you help a stranger with a dangerous request? Would you sacrifice yourself to save a friend? Can people act humanely in times of war?

Incident At Vichy has resonance today. Lots to think about. See it. It’s important.

Presented by Soulpepper Theatre Company

Opened: May 26, 2016.
Closes: June 23, 2016.
Cast: 19 men
Running Time: 90 minutes.

www.soulpepper.ca

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At the Royal George Theatre, Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ont.

Written by Thornton Wilder
Directed by Molly Smith
Set by Ken MacDonald
Costumes by William Schmuck
Lighting by Kimberly Purtell
Musial direction, original music and sound by James Smith
Cast: David Ball
Tess Benger
Kate Besworth
Benedict Campbell
Aaron Ferguson
Sharry Flett
Kristi Frank
Charlie Gallant
Patrick Galligan
Rebecca Gibian
Jeff Irving
Billy Lake
Robert Markus
Catherine McGregor
Patrick McManus
Peter Millard
Julian Molnar
David Schurmann
Jenny L. Wright

This production of Our Town is a gem.

The Story. Thornton Wilder’s beautiful, timeless play is about a day in the life of a town called Grover’s Corners, New Hampshire, spread over 12 years from 1901 to 1913. We see the play mainly through two families who live side by side—The Gibbs and the Webbs—although we meet other characters of the town. It’s just before dawn and Dr. Gibbs has jut delivered twins. The play will end with a funeral. In between two lovely young people named Emily Webb and George Gibbs, who live next door to each other, fall in love and marry.

The Production. Thornton Wilder makes every effort to let us know that we are in the artificial world of the theatre. Of course it’s left to the audience to imagine the reality of it all. Wilder’s stage directions say there is no stage curtain and no scenery. There is a ghost light in this production and some chairs on stage. The character known as the Stage Manager re-arranges props and some of the chairs. He directs other stage hands to set the scene.

The Stage Manager gives the audience the details of the town specifying the longitude and latitude of it with respect to the state of New Hampshire. In fact those coordinates situate the town off the coast of Massachusetts. Wilder being impish.

He notes the Gibbs’ home and next door, the Webb’s home. Milk is delivered by a Howie Newsome who has to control his horse who pulls the milk wagon. The newspaper is delivered by the paper boy. Breakfasts are prepared by both Mrs. Gibbs and Mrs. Webb. Sound effects are heard to signify all this activity (clinking of milk bottles, doors opening and closing). And all the other activity and preparation is mimed. In the last Act, when one of the characters who has recently died wants just one more day on earth she picks an ordinary day. When she goes back to her family, every thing is presented not in mime but in reality. There are real scrambled eggs and coffee and toast served on real plates. All this is in aid of the person and the audience who need to take in the minutiae of the world she has left.

Director Molly Smith has created a quietly graceful production. She knows how to guide her cast to illuminate their characters and the play. There are moments of impishness, clear-eyed perception, appropriate sentimentality and a beating heart.

As the Stage Manager, Benedict Campbell is matter of fact and never sentimental. When talking about the paperboy, he tells us he was gifted and graduated from college top of his class and was going to be an engineer. “But the war broke out and he died in France—all that education for nothing.” It’s a simple line and when you hear it it is like being hit by a truck, it just winds you. Campbell’s Stage Manager is efficient in setting the scene and telling us the details of the town. but is also a man who has a vested interest in the people and the town and makes us care about them too.

As Emily Webb, Kate Besworth has the spunk and confidence of a young girl who is smart and loved. She has no qualms of telling George Gibbs, the young man she fancies, that he should shape up. And she can dissolve in tears when her world is about to change drastically.

Charlie Gallant plays George Gibb with boyish charm and the awkward insecurity of a young boy of a certain age who is smitten both with Emily and baseball. When he is about to marry Emily he is just as boyish but not so awkward, although he does have moments of uncertainty. You see a decent man appearing out of all that giddy youth.

The whole cast is fine.

In keeping with the simplicity of the production, Ken MacDonald set design is crisp and efficient. Set pieces float down from the flies. When Emily and George look out of their respective windows at the beautiful orange moon and to talk to each other over the distance between their houses, MacDonald has them stand on two moveable ladders, each with a ledge suggesting a window sill. Later, in a scene in the cemetery, the moon in a ghostly grey-white; the occupants sit in simple white wood chairs.

William Schmuck’s costumes evoke the early 1900s. His costumes for those resting in the cemetery—men in suits, women in dresses–are dark for the most part and then turn whitish at the bottom, as if they are dissolving into the clay of the earth. It’s a very haunting image.

Comment. Our Town was first produced on Broadway in 1938. Heady times in Europe and America when it was produced. It is deceptively simple but definitely not old-fashioned or dated. These are characters who have worries, concerns, anxiety, uncertainty and insecurity. They also are able to stop and reflect; wonder at the beauty around them; appreciate things that matter. The play speaks of people’s decency; their industry; their faith and trust in each other.

Most important I think it’s vital for today and our times. While it’s specifically American it’s applicable to Canadians. We have just had 10 years of a secretive, cold-eyed, manipulative Prime Minister. Our neighbours to the south are going through one of the most divisive, mean-spirited, vindictive racist elections on record.

Our Town quietly makes its points about questionable politicians; about what is important in ones life; about a slower pace of life to appreciate the living of it. The play even anticipates a faster pace of life for little purpose.

Our Town is the perfect play for troubled times and not so troubled times, in fact a play for all times. The Shaw Festival has produced a terrific production of Our Town.

Presented by the Shaw Festival

Opened: May 12, 2016.
Closes: Oct. 15, 2016.
Cast: 19; 11 men, 8 women
Running Time: 2 hours, 25 minutes.

www.shawfest.com

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The Riser Project

The Archivist

At the Theatre Centre, Toronto, Ont.

Written and performed by Shaista Latif

The Riser Project is a wonderful initiative of the always inventive and creative Why Not Theatre. It’s a new collaborative producing model to help emerging artists with resources, mentorship and expertise as they collaborate with senior theatre makers to take their productions to the next level.

There are four productions in the Riser Project this year—this is the third year of the project. The participating productions are: Dead Roads, The Archivist, Oraltorio: A Theatrical Mixtape and The Other. I will write comments on the productions as I see them.

The Archivist.

The definition of an archive is a place in which public records are kept; therefore an archivist is a person who is the keeper of the archive. In this case The Archivist is Shaista Latif, the writer and performer of the piece. Latif has expanded The Archivist which first played in a shorter version at the Rhubarb Festival at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, last year, when I saw it. The Archivist is now about an hour long but the intention is the same—to keep a record of her family history and her own, as an archivist would do. The public place in which they are gathered, kept and referenced is the theatre.

Latif is a Canadian of Afghan decent. Her parents fled Afghanistan leaving everything behind for a better life eventually settling in Canada. Her mother was pregnant with Shaista when her parents arrived here. And yet Latif has always felt an outside, either because of insensitive teachers etc. who ask where she comes from and don’t believe her when she says, “Canada” or because she feels she has a connection to Afghanistan where she’s never been. So there is distance from both places.

She collects ‘artefacts’ that will help her keep her memories fresh: family photos which are passed around in the audience. I note that none of the photos is identified on the back with the date, the place and who the people are—perhaps a theatrical device to show the difficulty in keeping memories clear and sharp. She also has to keep the memories of her family clear and sharp which is difficult since they come to her second hand. A home movie of her parents wedding is projected on the back wall of the theatre but part of the film is obscured by a covering that blocks part of the film. Perhaps another theatrical device to show the ephemeral quality of memories and remembering.

Latif’s is a life full of upheaval not only for her family, but also for herself. She talks of her parents and their challenges with easy grace, floating over moments that sound devastating. We get the point and don’t need moments belaboured. She spent time between two parts of her family; she was shunned and moved away; she was bullied in school. One scene took place in the dark with odd sound effects. I learned later when I asked what that was, that that represented a sexual assault. As the show is in constant flux, being explored and developed that might be a moment that needs more clarity. In another recollection she laments that she is loosing her ability with Farsi her parent’s native tongue. A recorded voice recites the alphabet in Farsi. After that the Farsi alphabet is replayed but this time Latif quickly gives the English letter after the Farsi letter as she remembers. But in a wonderful moment that shows how memory can get away from us, she begins saying the English letter before she hears the Farsi letter until she rights herself and gives the English after the Farsi. It’s a subtle moment and I appreciate that Latif makes us in the audience work for it.

Shaista Latif has a natural actor’s ability with her audience. She is also a natural and gifted storyteller. Those who saw her previous show Graceful Rebellions know of her ability as a storyteller and a performer.

The Archivist is different with every show in subtle ways, but the main story is there, harrowing at times, but always poetic; the performance is compelling and the heart of it beats strongly.

Plays until April 22, 2016.

Tickets: www.theatrecentre.org or 416-538-0988

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At the Ed Mirvish Theatre, Toronto, Ont.

Written by David Hare,
Directed by Neil Armfield
Set by Dale Ferguson
Costumes by Sue Blane
Lighting by Rick Fisher
Sound by Paul Groothuis
Composer, Alan John
Cast: Elliot Balchin
Alister Cameron
Tom Colley
Rupert Everett
Jessie Hills
Cal MacAninch
Charlie Rowe

The Judas Kiss is a maddening play that comes close to making Oscar Wilde seem like a human being and not just a font of witticism in Act I and then goes off the rails in Act II when all he seems to do is drop aphorisms. Surely Oscar Wilde was deeper than this considering the difficulties he had in his life.

Background. Oscar Wilde, the celebrated Irish playwright and wit, had a romantic relationship with the young Lord Alfred Douglas (Bosie to his friends). Douglas’s father, the Marquess of Queensbury was enraged by this and the embarrassment it brought to the family, and accused Wilde of being a ‘sodomite’. He actually spelled it “somdomite” on a card he left at Wilde’s club. The Marquess was an expert in boxing not spelling. Wilde sued for libel. The case collapsed because the Marquess had witnesses and proof. The play picks up from there.

The Story. Act I takes place in 1895 in London, in the Cadogan Hotel, just after the libel trial. Wilde, Bosie and Robert Ross, a friend and former lover of Wilde’s meet in a hotel room to plan what to do. Robert Ross urges Wilde to leave the country to avoid prosecution and jail. Bosie wants him to stay and fight, if only to get back at the Marquess. Bosie promises to stay with Wilde but then backtracks when he’s first advised not to be found in the hotel room with Wilde when the police come to arrest him. And then Bosie is further urged to leave the country—and not with Wilde–to avoid further scandal. The dilemma for Wilde is, what does he do?

Act II is set in 1897 in Naples, Italy. Wilde has been released from prison after two years of hard labour. Bosie has invited him to Naples. Why is the mystery. Wilde seems to spend his time there reading and enjoying the sunshine, while Bosie picks up many and various men to take home with him. At the moment it’s a fisherman named Galileo. It’s obvious the relationship between Wilde and Bosie is rough. There are accusations of who was the better friend. They quarrel. It ends badly.

The Production. Dale Ferguson has designed a room at the Cadogan Hotel for Act I that is dark, perhaps to suggest the secrecy that is going on there. The furniture is dark wood or leather. The bedspread is black. There is dark billowing material over the bed. It is at once lush and rich but also a bit oppressive. For Act II in Naples there is a sense of lightness and sun. Rick Fisher’s lighting accentuates shadows in Act I and the light of Naples in Act II. Sue Blanes’ costumes are impeccable for Wilde and Ross who are both gentlemen and not flashy. Bosie dresses in the latest flashy styles.

The Judas Kiss seems like two separate plays divided by an intermission. In Act I we get the sense of urgency for Wilde, Bosie and Ross with Neil Armfield’s direction. The police are coming. Robert Ross has brought two packed bags for Wilde to take with him when he leaves for the train station. Cal MacAninch as Ross is breathless as he enters the room with two packed bags for Wilde’s escape. Ross is a gentleman so keeps his cool in that composed British way, but there is an edge. He is playing with a loose cannon in Bosie. Bosie as performed by Charlie Rowe is a spoiled, petulant, selfish, self-centred brat who just wants to get back at his father and he’s using Wilde to help him in his plan. Rowe plays him with all seriousness and not a shred of irony when Bosie says that in fact he has suffered more than Wilde has and that he has more to lose.

Matters go into high gear when Wilde enters, shattered after his terrible day in court, and falls into Bosie’s embrace. The embrace is tight and desperate. What is Wilde to do in such a fraught time? He orders lunch. Rupert Everett is an imposing presence as Wilde. He’s impeccably dressed. His delivery is quick and crisp. Playwright David Hare’s dialogue is so subtle in establishing the dilemma facing Wilde. If he leaves he’s a coward. If he stays he could be arrested. Wilde needs to see Bosie to make up his mind, but Bosie has his own agenda. It’s such intricate playwriting in that first Act and while we know what happened from history, how Hare creates this dilemma and the thinking of the characters involved, is masterful. The problem of course is that Wilde is in terrible danger if he stays. Wilde has to decide what to do about leaving or not.

You do get the sense of Wilde’s dilemma in Rupert Everett’s performance. But I couldn’t help get the sense it’s so much posing. Almost every point or witty remark Everett delivers is done quickly followed by a sharp intake of air sucked in through his teeth as he grimaces. I found it so mannered.

In Act II, in Naples, Wilde is relegated to observer as Bosie lounges in bed with yet another man he’s picked up in his travels. In these cases it all seems like aphorisms and witty remarks, which has less to do with character and more to do with showing off. I wonder where that character from Act I went? Well he went to jail for two years so perhaps he left his character there.

In these cases, Everett gives his lines as quickly as possible without giving the sense that he’s actually listening to the person he’s talking too. (Talking at?), All very disconcerting.

Comment. The following poem by W.H. Auden is on the back of the playtext for The Judas Kiss: “If equal affections cannot be/Let the more loving one be me.” The note on the back of the text continues with the poem: “expresses the dilemma at the heart of David Hare’s …exploration of Oscar Wilde’s relationship with Lord Alfred Douglas. The author speculates on two incidents in Wilde’s life of which we know little, in order to present a play whose true subject is not Wilde, but love; not Bosie (Lord Alfred Douglas), but betrayal.”

That Wilde loved Bosie to dangerous distraction is not in question. He went to jail for him. That Bosie did not return the affection is clear too. He sacrificed Wilde, betrayed him, as Judas betrayed Christ, hence the title.

David Hare is one of the most creative, thoughtful, curious playwrights whose plays conjure dilemmas of faith, morality, responsibility, relationships, and love. With The Judas Kiss he has tried to examine love and betrayal from the point of view of two celebrated characters and is only half successful. Wilde is such a huge figure in literature because of his wit and the cleverness of many of his plays that it seems diffcult recreating of him as human at all without that endless wit. You wonder if he can say anything that doesn’t sound as if he has polished, honed and shaped the lines before he spoke them.

In one of Bosie’s more prickly moments, he runs Wilde down by saying that history will forget him; his plays will be forgotten and never performed. Irony is a wonderful thing. In fact it’s Bosie who is barely remembered and only as the lover of Oscar Wilde who was responsible for his downfall.

Wilde on the other hand is still remembered. His plays are still done regularly more than 100 years after his trial and imprisonment. He is also commemorated in other plays such as The Judas Kiss. I just wish it was a better play.

David Mirvish, Chichester Festival Theatre, in association with Robert Fox, Theatre Royal Bath Productions, and Hampstead Theatre Productions:

Opened: March 30, 2016.
Closes: May 1, 2016.
Cast: 7, 6 men, 1 woman.
Running Time: 2 hours, 30 minutes.

www.mirivsh.com

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