Search: Dark Heart

The Ravine

At the Seneca Queen Theatre, Niagara Falls, Ont. Written and directed by George F. Walker. Designed by David Hewlett. Lighting by Kirsten Watt. Sound by Ethan Rising. Starring: Wes Berger, Sarah Murphy-Dyson,  Bruce Gooch, Julia Heximer, Dana Puddicombe, William Vickers, Karen Wood.

Produced by  Lyndesfarne Theatre Projects. Plays until April 13.

Kelly Daniels is one resourceful theatre artist. Not only did she create Lyndesfarne Theatre Projects several years ago, of which she is the Artistic Director, but she also cast the productions with solid actors from both Shaw and Stratford. She also directed many of the company’s productions. For a few years she found a home for the company in St. Catharines but recently moved to the Seneca Queen Theatre in a funky part of Niagara Falls. Her most recent coup was being able to premiere a new play from Canadian playwright icon, George F. Walker, entitled The Ravine. As such the production has gotten some notoriety. I just wish the play and the production were better.

The play opens in a ravine, in which Michelle Gayle is explaining how her former husband, Oscar Wallace, treated her and their children badly; how he’s a terrible person with addictions. After years of difficulty Michelle is forced to live in the ravine. And after years of taking Oscar’s abuse she’s decided to put a stop to him. She involves her fellow homeless person, Parnell, into a dangerous plan.

Oscar is also a crack-smoking, liquor swilling man who has an ex-con hit man in his circle who is used to get rid of annoying people Oscar does not want to deal with. Oscar is not above bending the law for his own gain. And Oscar is running for Mayor.

Of course this all sounds familiar if one lives in Toronto and/or watches late-night American TV talk-shows who are having a field day skewering Toronto Mayor Rob Ford with his various abuses and his own potty mouthed lingo. But in a sad way it doesn’t make The Ravine funny or relevant. Jon Stewart on the Daily Show taking pot shots at Mayor Rob Ford in a 10 minute monologue slams our less than upstanding Mayor with more wit, satire and perception than George F. Walker’s slight play does. Perhaps Walker intended this to be a farce? No matter, it doesn’t work.

Mr. Walker has spent a few years writing for television and this play shows it. The Ravine is really a television sit-com. The characters are written with little depth: the totally evil bully running for mayor; the mentally unstable man who could go off the rails at any minute; the ruthless barracuda of an assistant who will cut down anyone in her way. The unbelievable storyline. And referencing a homeless woman and a mentally unstable man does not give the play depth if the issues aren’t explored.

Then there is the direction. George F. Walker does double duty here because he also directs. That is so unfortunate. Mr. Walker seems to believe that “faster-louder” is an effective stage direction. It isn’t. There seems to be little room for subtlety and surely characters should have it in a play.

While black-outs between scenes are instantaneous in television, in the The Ravine they are interminable. They literally stop the show’s momentum, if it ever had any at all. There are three playing areas of David Hewlett’s set. Walsh’s living room, stage right; a park bench, centre stage, and Michele Gayle’s make-shift shelter in the ravine. When a scene ends in one location there is a blackout for several seconds, with loud, throbbing rock music as an accompaniment, so that characters can get into place for the next scene. Perhaps the attempt of the music is to suggest urgency. It fails. If the audience is in the dark for that long the pace is stopped and no amount of music can change that. In the few instances where the lights dimed in one scene and immediately went up in another where the actors were already in place, we get the sense of how fluid one scene can flow into another without interruption. In The Ravine that seamless flow from one scene to another is all too rare.

The cast works very hard acting louder-faster. As Oscar Wallace, Bruce Gooch gives the appearance of a fit, attractive politician when in the public eye. When at home, Walker has him smoking from a bong pipe and drinking liquor from the bottle.  I’m intrigued to see what Gooch could do with that part if given half a chance and better dialogue. As Finn Kagan, the hit-man with a heart, Wes Berger is quietly imposing. As Cassie Franz, the barracuda assistant with higher aspirations, Sarah Murphy-Dyson starts at level 10 of fury and then ramps it up. She does convey how scary that kind of person can be in politics. Parnell is not only homeless, he is mentally unbalanced, and William Vickers practically twirls himself into a frenzy conveying that. The character of Lesley is the pregnant partner of Cassie. Dana Puddicombe plays Lesley with an understated grace that is refreshing. Also refreshing is Karen Wood as Michele Gayle, the wronged ex-wife of Oscar Wallace. She has an eye-popping secret. Wood plays Gayle as the voice of reason, and gives the most varied performance in the production.

If The Ravine is to have another life I would suggest a re-write and a different director. As for Lyndesfarne Theatre Projects I was glad to take the trip to see their new digs. I hope next time it’s a better play and production.

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The following two reviews were broadcast on Friday, March 20, 2014. CIUT FRIDAY MORNING, 89.5 FM; Sea Sick at the Theatre Centre until March 23, and New Jerusalem at the Studio Theatre, Toronto Centre for the Arts, until April 13.

The host was Phil Taylor.

(PHIL)

Good Friday morning. It’s theatre fix time with Lynn Slotkin, our Theatre Critic and Passionate Playgoer. Hello again Lynn. What do you have for us this week?

(LYNN)

Two fascinating plays. One is Sea Sick by Alanna Mitchell which opened the newly renovated Theatre Centre. It’s about the deteriorating health of the global oceans.

And the next play is New Jerusalem by David Ives, produced by the Harold Green Jewish Theatre playing at the Studio Theatre, of the Toronto Centre for the Arts in North York. It’s about the excommunication of Jewish Philosopher Baruch de Spinoza from his Jewish congregation in Amsterdam in 1656.

(PHIL)

Let’s start with Sea Sick. How do you make the deterioration of the oceans into a play?

(LYNN)

Well you may ask. But first some background of the writer, Alanna Mitchell. Mitchell has always been curious. She comes by it honestly. Her father was a scientist. Her mother was an artist. Mitchell grew up in the prairies. While she has a degree in Latin (!) she has made her living as a science journalist for the Globe and Mail. But she got the biggest story of her career when she quit the Globe and began investigating how the global ocean is changing and why it matters. She wrote a book about it entitled: “Sea Sick: The Global Ocean in Crisis.” She has adapted it for the stage and the result is Sea Sick

Actually I think Sea Sick is more accurately a TED lecture than a play. In a play, even in a one person play, the story would reveal different stories or characters in opposition; two or more protagonists want the same thing for different reasons and so tension results. That’s not what’s happening in Sea Sick. Here Mitchell reports that the global ocean is in crisis, dying if you will, and if it goes we all do. She notes that everything on land can be destroyed but the oceans will not be affected. But if it is the reverse—that all life dies in the ocean then we are doomed. The air will be compromised; our food; ecosystems, everything. No opposition from anyone in the theatre, and she takes the rest of the time to prove her case.

(PHIL)

It sounds like it could be a dry fact filled evening. Is it?

(LYNN)

Far from it. She is a charming story-teller. She tells stories of her family full of affection, love and respect.

As a kid her father took her out on expeditions across the prairie, told her the name of the plants both their Latin and ‘familiar’ names. Her mother painted them.

She says that science gives us the knowledge, but art gives that knowledge meaning. She uses a wonderful example. She plays three notes of music explaining how the sound is made and how many decibels in each note are played per second.

On their own those notes mean nothing. But in the hands and musical mind of Bob Dylan he takes those notes and writes “The Times, They Are A Changin’, one of the most prescient, perceptive songs of warning of our times.

Mitchell came to her calling, to bring attention to the subject of the ocean in crisis, by mistake. She was devoted to Darwin and his theories and wanted to go to the various lands/islands where his experiments took place. But then she met Silvia Earl, a leading authority on the ocean, on one of her trips, who told her the real story was the ocean and its crisis. Ever curious, Mitchell changed her focus. It’s interesting that most of the experts she met along her journey are women.

In clear language, a tempered delivery and many funny observations and self-deprecating remarks, she tells her story without haranguing desperation. The facts and information are sobering if not frightening. The ocean is warming up. This impacts various life forms that need colder water to live. The water is becoming more acid—like vinegar. This impacts the shells of many species.

See her experiment with a piece of chalk dropped in a beaker of vinegar for the full effect. And the ocean is loosing its breath (Oxygen).  But Mitchell informs her audience in a way that is not alarmist—a neat feat but is still sobering.

(PHIL)

How is it as a production?

(LYNN)

The stage is bare except for a blackboard, a table and a glass of water and beaker of vinegar. Mitchell stands and talks to us. It’s directed by Franco Boni with help from Ravi Jain. Boni directs the piece with subtlety and spareness. There is nothing fussy in the delivery or his staging of Mitchell.

The ‘lecture-play’ begins in full light (Rebecca Picherack) but then gradually dims so that the audience is in darkness and the stage is lit. At various times the lights will go up on the audience to make a point. Effective, that.

Lecture? Play? No matter, Sea Sick is a huge story that affects us all. It’s important to hear it, especially from such a quietly passionate, gifted story-teller like Alanna Mitchell.

(PHIL)

And now to New Jerusalem about Spinoza.

(LYNN)

The play New Jerusalem is subtitled: The Interrogation of Baruch de Spinoza at Talmud Torah Congregation: Amsterdam, July 27, 1656.

Again some background. Many Jews in Amsterdam had fled there from Portugal to escape persecution. They could live anywhere in the city but there were restrictions. They could discuss their religion amongst themselves but not to a Christian. And this is where Baruch de Spinoza got into trouble.

(PHIL)

How so?

(LYNN)

He was a devoted Jew. He studied with his rabbi, Rabbi Mortera. He was Mortera’s most gifted student. But Spinoza was a philosopher who questioned the existence of God and came to startling conclusions about God, faith, belief and Judaism. He spoke about it freely which got the attention of Abraham Van Valkenburgh, a powerful authority in the city.

While Spinoza was responsible for his own thinking and actions, Van Valkenburgh wanted the congregation to put a stop to his proselytizing. He didn’t like Spinoza’s questions about religion; or that he reasoned there was only one inclusive God. The implication was clear—if the congregation didn’t do it, then Van Valkenburgh would and it would affect all Jews in the city—he’d expel them. So Spinoza’s thinking regarding God etc. is put on trial and Spinoza’s chief interrogator is the Rabbi.

The writing by playwright David Ives is terrific, bracing, intellectual, clear, and deeply thought. There are no transcripts from the actual event so this imagined dialogue and the arguments on both sides, are dazzling. And that’s a problem with the play.

(PHIL)

How can well thought out arguments be a problem?

(LYNN)

Because Spinoza is so clear thinking and persuasive, he should have won the ‘case’, and we know he doesn’t. He was excommunicated and he was just 23. It all seems to have come down to his girlfriend, Clara, a Catholic.

They loved each other. They talked about religion etc. She knew that to marry he would have to become a Catholic and he would never do it. When she pleads with him in the synagogue to recant and he refuses, she says in a rage, to drive him out of the city.

And in a thrice Van Valkenburgh decrees that Spinoza is to be excommunicated. The Rabbi concurs and the decree read—and it’s  brutal…he is to be forced out of town; no one should talk to him or give him shelter. It’s on record.

(PHIL)

Dramatic stuff. How does the production do to illuminate this material.

(LYNN)

It’s directed by Mitchell Cushman, one of the most impressive young directors in our theatre. He starts the production in the lobby, with various members of the cast in character reading from the bible or selling apricots or giving out candles. It sets the mood. Then into the theatre where the audience is the congregation that has to pass judgement.

The set seems like a makeshift synagogue but with symbolism—I’m not sure what it was symbolic of? The coming of the Holocaust? Anne Frank’s house?

Cushman then negotiates his actors  to establish relationships and create tension. It’s an uneven cast but in the three leads there is strength.

As Spinoza, Aris Athanasopoulos is boyish, almost laid back but certainly committed to his beliefs. As Van Valkenburgh, Michael Hanrahan has that fastidious look; confident, prickly and smooth at the same time.

And as Rabbi Mortera, Alon Nashman is a force of nature. Open-hearted but a scrapper; respectful and loving of his student, but knows the difficulty he is in—the moral dilemma—save your people or save your student. He creates a character who has lived and studies with God for decades. It’s a shining performance in a fascinating production.

(PHIL)

Thanks Lynn. That’s Lynn Slotkin, our theatre critic and passionate playgoer. You can read Lynn’s blog at www.slotkinletter.com twitter @slotkinletter.

Sea Sick plays at the Theatre Centre until March 23

Box Office: 416-538-0988

New Jerusalem plays at the Studio Theatre, Toronto Centre for the Arts until April 13.

HGJEWISHTHEATRE.COM

 

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The following two reviews were broadcast on Friday, March 14, 2014 CIUT FRIDAY MORNING 89.5. FM between 9 am and 10 am: The Seagull at the Berkeley Street Theatre, Upstairs until March 23, and The Carousel  at the Berkeley Street Theatre Downstairs until March 30.

The guest host was Phil Taylor

(PHIL)

Good Friday morning. It’s theatre fix time with Lynn Slotkin our theatre critic and passionate playgoer. Hi Lynn

(LYNN)

Hi Phil

(PHIL)

What do you have for us this week?

(LYNN)

I have two shows that are emotionally charged and might raise the temperature of their audiences.

The first is The Seagull by Anton Chekhov done by a new company called the Chekhov Collective. And the other is The Carousel by Jennifer Tremblay with translation by Shelley Tepperman, produced by Nightwood Theatre. 

(PHIL)

Let’s start with Chekhov and The Seagull. Give us a short synopsis for those of use who can’t remember our high school lit. classes.

(LYNN)

It’s about unrequited love, loneliness, missed opportunities, lamenting them and doing nothing about them. We are on an estate in Russia. Irina Arkadina is an actress who owns the estate but is rarely there. She comes for a visit. The other characters are her son Konstantin, a young man in his 20s, living in his mother’s shadow.  Konstantin hates her kind of theatre and writes a play he thinks is a new genre. He prepares to put it on for his mother, her lover Trigorin a celebrated writer, and the rest of the folks on the estate. It will star Nina, a young innocent woman.

 Konstantin’s play is incomprehensible and Konstantin is wounded when everybody gets bored, especially his mother. We see the relationships played out instantly. Konstantin is in love with Nina. Nina is smitten by Trigorin. Trigorin contends with Arkadina but then takes up with Nina. Arkadina loves Trigorin but not as much as she loves herself. And so it goes. So much angst. In Chekhov’s world this is initially hilarious, until of course the seriousness bubbles up.

(PHIL)

What is Chekhov’s appeal?

(LYNN)

His plays are so layered and dense with emotions and attitudes. His characters are full bodied, emotionally charged and hilarious without their knowing it. No wonder actors love doing his plays.

(PHIL)

Tell us about the Chekhov Collective.

(LYNN)

The Chekhov Collective is a group of actors dedicated to exploring the play using the acting techniques of Michael Chekhov, Anton Chekhov’s nephew. Through workshops, readings, and careful study and interaction, the group worked on The Seagull for a year.

It’s a group with varying degrees of experience, and it shows. In a program note director, Peggy Coffey expanded a bit on the thinking of Michael Chekhov and how the actors explored the play. In the program and other references terms such as ‘architecture’ ‘expansion/contraction’, special relationships etc. are used to explain some of the reference points. Some media were even invited to attend special workshops that put Michael Chekhov’s techniques into practice.

(PHIL)

Does knowing Michael Chehkov’s techniques with actors, improve your understanding of the play?

(LYNN)

Here’s the thing, I look on my job of theatre critic as a professional member of an audience. But when reviewing a play I don’t really care how an actor gets to realize his/her character, as long as he/she does it.

As long as all concerned realize the point and intention of the play. The audience doesn’t care about the specific lingo—architecture, expansion/contraction etc. We care about how well the play is done.

(PHIL)

So how well is the play done?

(LYNN)

I think the Chekhov Collective deserve a lot of credit for making their own work and luck. For many in the cast this is their first theatrical venture. For many others, more comfortable in television, this is an opportunity to do a part in which they might not usually be cast. So this group got together to put on a play and took a year to explore it before they thought it was ready. Bravo to that tenacity, even though the results are uneven.

Rob Gray’s simple set of slat work gives a feel of a sprawling Russian estate that has seen better days. As Arkadina, Rena Polley has the bearing of a celebrated, self-absorbed woman who is easily riled and easily bored. As Trigorin, Patrick Garrow is always watchful, as an accomplished writer would be. You get the sense of his being quietly obsessive about noting a phrase of word for a future short story. And you get a sense of his cold heart when he talks of writing a short story about a man who, for want of nothing better to do, destroys a life. This is a reference to what will happen to Nina.

The younger members of the company don’t fare as well. As Nina, Nicole Wilson has a sweet innocence initially but as the play went on, she too lacked depth in her performance. Riley Gilchrist certainly has Konstantin’s brooding established. But I find that his tears in the last scene is a bit of overkill.

I also thing the director Peggy Coffey is fresh to exploring Chekhov and it shows.

(PHIL)

How so?

(LYNN)

I would have thought that with the time the company took to explore character the director would have led some actors to deeper performances than just skimming the surface.

Too often a character who is talking to another character gives his/her lines looking out to the audience and not to the character to whom he/she is talking. That interrupts any connection characters have to each other. I can appreciate that Coffey wants to establish some kind of mood at the very beginning by playing the melody of a song sung while the lights are down. But keeping the audience in the dark while the whole melodic line is sung, and it goes on for several seconds, does the opposite. It makes the audience impatient for the play to begin. If we don’t know the song or the melody, then how can we expect to understand the mood Coffey is trying to create?

I hope the cast had a fruitful experience exploring the play. Next time I hope the result is more cohesive in serving the play and the audience.  

(PHIL)

And tell us about The Carousel

(LYNN)

It’s part of a trilogy; two years ago we saw The List now we have The Carousel about the same woman several years later. It’s interesting that in The List the woman was an obsessive list maker, meticulous. Now, in The Carousel, that meticulousness is not as evident.

It’s beautifully written by Jennifer Tremblay and exquisitely translated by Shelley Tepperman. About three generations of Quebec women. The impetus is that our narrator, referred to simply in the program as The Woman, is called home to Northern Quebec to visit her mother in the hospital. The mother is dying.

The waiting makes The Woman think of her feisty, hard drinking Grandmother, whose wisdom she could use right now. She thinks of her angry, bullying grandfather. She thinks about why her mother Florence was sent to a convent for seven years when she was so young. And The Woman thinks about her own marriage, children and her recent infidelity. Memory goes round and round, like a Carousel.

This is a one person play with several characters. Jennifer Tremblay’s writing is rich, delicate, muscular, sensual, even erotic in a tasteful way, and her translator, Shelley Tepperman captures all of that dazzling language.

(PHIL)

How does it work as a one person play?

(LYNN)

It stars the wondrous Allegra Fulton as The Woman, who was on the show last week. With just the subtlest of body language and a modulation of her voice you know exactly what character is speaking. The Grandmother talks in a certain voice; her bully husband in another and so on.

The Woman is composed, compassionate when dealing with her dying mother, and totally uninhibited when she is picked up by a man in a bar. You almost want to look away because we know the character is in a tricky situation. But Fulton is so compelling an actress, so loaded with nuance and shadings that you are gripped. The whole production is startling with so many revelations, all of them revealed in a gradual, believable way.

The set by Denyse Karn is a hospital corridor in perspective with a chair outside a room. You can see an empty hospital bed in the room off the corridor. 

For the whole of the production, Fulton is both quiet and thoughtful and animated.  But it’s not a busy production thanks to her director Megan Follows.

(PHIL)

This is Megan Follows’ directorial debut, isn’t it?

(LYNN)

It is. She is an actress in her own right—grew up playing Anne of Green Gables. And is now a mature actress who has done all kinds of substantial theatre. But she wanted to direct and Nightwood Artistic director, Kelly Thornton, gave her a chance here. It’s a stunning debut. She has such sensitivity to make a scene work.

In a scene when the daughter is visiting her dying mother, there is a rectangle of white light on the floor. (Thank you Kimberly Purtell).

Fulton pulls her chair close to it, with her hand out gently. Voila, the mother’s hospital bed and the daughter holding her unseen hand. The audience fills in the rest. Both director and actress have carefully realized all the details, subtext and surprises of this terrific play.

(PHIL)

Thanks Lynn. That’s Lynn Slotkin our theatre critic and passionate playgoer. You can read Lynn’s Blog at www.slotkinletter.com

On twitter @slotkinletter

The Seagull plays at the Berkeley Street Theatre Upstairs until March 23:

www.thechekhovcollective.com

The Carousel plays at the Berkeley Street Theatre Downstairs, until March 30.

www.nightwoodtheatre.net

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The Seagull

At the Berkeley Street Theatre, Upstairs. Written by Anton Chekhov. Adapted by Rena Polley. Directed by Peggy Coffey. Set by Rob Gray. Costumes by Joyce Gunhouse, Judy Cornish of Comrags. Lighting by Al Paquette. Sound and music design by Rob Bertola. Starring: Steve Coombes, Greg Ellwand, Patrick Garrow, Andrei Gilchrist, Lynne Griffin,  Llyandra Jones, Andrei Pedra, Rena Polley, Sean Sullivan, Nicole Wilson.

Produced by the Chekhov Collective and plays until March 23.

Anton Chekhov is one popular playwright. His plays are so layered and dense with emotions and attitudes. His characters are full bodied, emotionally charged and hilarious without their knowing it. Chekhov wrote his characters with affection and keen insight. No wonder actors love doing his plays.

Last month there was the exquisite production of Afterplay about two Chekhov characters, with the playwright wondering, what would happen if these two met years later?

This month we have The Seagull produced by the Chekhov Collective. The play is about love in all its guises, unrequited, misplaced, neurotic; and has the full array of Chekhov’s characters all of whom have their own kind of angst.

Konstantin is a young man in his twenties living in his mother’s shadow. She is Irina Arkadina, an actress. He reminds her that she is older than she is willing to admit.  Konstantin hates her kind of theatre and writes a new kind of play in what he thinks is a new genre. It is incomprehensible and Konstantin is wounded. We see the relationships played out instantly. Konstantin is in love with Nina, the innocent star of his play. The seagull is symbolic of her, or vice versa.  Nina likes Konstantin but soon meets and is smitten by Trigorin, a celebrated writer and lover of Arkadina. Trigorin contends with Arkadina but then takes up with Nina but gets bored easily and throws her over, after she becomes pregnant and has a child. Arkadina loves Trigorin but not as much as she loves herself. The school teacher, Medvedenko loves Masha who works on the estate, but Masha barely tolerates him. She is in love with Konstantin. To take her mind off thinking of Konstantin, Masha marries Medvedenko and ramps up her contempt for him. Masha’s parents are Polina and Shamrayev, he runs the estate. Polina in turn frets over and loves, Dr. Dorn. Arkadina’s sweet brother Sorin has compassion for everyone.

And so it goes. So much angst. So much mis-placed love; the search for art in oneself; the desperation to hold on to youth; dreams of better things vs. reality.  Such fretting about their lot in life. Such unhappiness. In Chekhov’s world this is initially hilarious, until of course the seriousness bubbles up.

The Chekhov Collective is a group of actors dedicated to exploring the play using the acting techniques of Michael Chekhov, Anton Chekhov’s nephew. Through workshops, readings, and careful study and interaction, the group worked on The Seagull for a year.

In a program note director, Peggy /Coffey expands a bit on the thinking of Michael Chekhov and how the actors explored the play. In the program and other references terms such as ‘architecture’ ‘expansion/contraction’, special relationships etc. are used to explain some of the reference points. Some media were even invited to attend special workshops that put Michael Chekhov’s techniques into practice.

Here’s the thing, I look on my job of theatre critic as a professional member of an audience. Certainly I would be familiar with the various terms and techniques of acting, method, naturalistic, intuitive,  Stanislavskian, stuff of the Actors’ Studio etc. But when reviewing a play, I don’t really care how an actor got to realize his/her character, as long as he/she did it. As long as all concerned: the director, actors, creative crew etc. realized the point and intention of the play. The ‘architecture’, ‘expansion/contraction’ might mean a lot to the actor, but the audience (me as critic too) doesn’t care. I care about how well the play was done. Yes, the play is the thing—that is why we are in the room.

I think the Chekhov Collective deserve a lot of credit for making their own work and luck. For many in the cast this is their first theatrical venture. For many others, more comfortable in television, this is an opportunity to do a part in which they might not usually be cast. So this group got together to put on a play and took a year to explore it before they thought it was ready. Bravo to that tenacity, even though the results are uneven.

Rob Gray’s simple set of slat work gives a feel of a sprawling estate that has seen better days. We do get that sense of Russian country in this simple work. The props are functional and are brought on and off by the cast doing double duty as cast and crew.

As Arkadina, Rena Polley has the bearing of a celebrated, self-absorbed woman who is easily riled and easily bored. As Trigorin, Patrick Garrow is always watchful, as a accomplished writer would be. You get the sense of his being quietly obsessive about noting a phrase of word for a future short story. And you get a sense of his cold heart when he talks of writing a short story about a man who, for want of nothing better to do, destroys a life. This is a reference to what will happen to Nina. Greg Ellwand brings a kind-hearted sweetness to Sorin. Sorin’s love for Konstantin is unconditional, and his interactions to all the characters is without edge or harshness. Similarly Lynne Griffin’s Polina frets and clucks around Dr. Dorn, whom she really loves, and stands silent and embarrassed when she is around Shamrayev, her husband. I found Steve Coombes as Shamrayev to be too quickly riled without the build to the emotional explosion.  As Dorn, Sean Sullivan accepts Polina’s affection and her attention with a quiet tenderness. As Medvedenko, Andrei Preda is oblivious to Masha’s unhappiness, but is still attentive to her. In Act II he is more commanding and shows Masha more gumption.

As Masha, Llyandra Jones has to say the two most difficult lines in the play at the very beginning. When Medvedenko asks her why she always wears black she says: “I’m in mourning for my life. I’m unhappy.” On first hearing, that overly dramatic utterance is funny. We do learn later how true the last line is. Why are those two lines the most difficult? Because the actress saying them has to dig deep to express the unhappiness, perhaps the flippancy of the character in the first line, and the truth in the second. Ms Jones just said them without inflection, nuance, or a sense they were deeply thought. She is a young actress; perhaps with more experience and deeper understanding she will be able to dig deeper into Masha. As Nina, Nicole Wilson has a sweet innocence initially but as the play went on, she too lacked depth in her performance. Riley Gilchrist certainly has Konstantin’s brooding established; and one gets the sense of Konstantin’s despair at how his writing is doing and his disappointment at losing Nina. But I find that his tears in the last scene is a bit of overkill. I can appreciate that Konstantin tearing up his writing at the end would signify something drastic, but why director, Peggy Coffey has him put bits of the torn writing in his pockets is mystifying.

I also get the sense that Ms Coffey, an actress in her own right, is fresh to exploring directing. I would have thought that with the time the company took to explore character the director would have led some actors to deeper performances that just skimming the surface.

Too often a character who is talking to another character gives his/her lines looking out to the audience and not to the character to whom they are talking. That interrupts any connection characters have to each other. I can appreciate that Coffey wants to establish some kind of mood at the very beginning by playing the melody of a song sung by Oh Susanna. The voice is smoky and distinctive. But keeping the audience in the dark while the whole melodic line is sung, and it goes on for several seconds, does the opposite. It makes the audience impatient for the play to begin. If we don’t know the song or the melody, then how can we expect to understand the mood Coffee is trying to create?

I hope the cast had a fruitful experience exploring the play. Next time I hope the result is more cohesive in serving the play and the audience.

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Flesh and Other Fragments of Love

At the Tarragon Theatre, Mainspace, Toronto. Written by Evelyne de la Chenelière from the novel by Marie Cardinal. Directed by Richard Rose. Designed by Karyn McCallum. Choreography by Denise Fukiwara. Music and sound design by Todd Charlton. Lighting by Rebecca Picherack. Starring: Maria del Mar, Nicole Underhay, Blair Williams.

Plays until February 16.

Simone has planned a vacation with her husband Pierre in a remote part of the IrishCoast. The long-married couple has been drifting apart. Pierre tends to want to go off on his own. There are hints of infidelity. Simone hopes that this vacation will help bring them together.

But then Pierre goes for one of his solitary walks and discovers a young woman, dead on the beach. He tells Simone. Together they imagine the life this woman must have lived. Pierre’s description of Mary is sensual; his thoughts personal. Simone imagines a whole scenario in which Pierre’s thoughts towards the corps are erotic. Which leads her into revealing how that marriage is breaking down. It’s a wild segue.

They learn that the dead woman was named Mary. She had an affair with a man, got pregnant, wanted to marry him but was told (by him) that, uh, well, er, he was married. Mary left Ireland. Moved to New York with her young son and became a nurse to support them. Things didn’t work out. She came back to Ireland where she was ostracized by her family and friends. And now she has been found drowned on the beach.

Out of this discovery Pierre muses on the woman; philosophises on marriage, fidelity, Simone, their marriage, his annoyances, peeves. Simone also digs deep to reveal her disappointments in life and her marriage with Pierre. Deep seated resentments are dug up. The marriage is obviously in trouble. And something is not right about Simone either.

One of Evelyne de la Chenelière’s previous works is the moving Bashir Lazar about a grieving widower trying to cope with the death of his family in the Middle East, while now settled in Montreal, working as a supply teacher. It is heart wrenching.   De la Chenelière knows her way around the wounded heart; the troubled soul; broken relationships. Her writing is poetic, lyrical, and elegant.

She certainly has her work cut out for her here, adapting Marie Cardinal’s introspective, philosophical novel. It does not lend itself easily to the play form. While there are opposing ideas between the married couple, there is little drama. For much of the play it sounds like philosophising about all manner of things that don’t require much philosophising. Somehow I get the sense that Pierre could talk for hours about the pros and cons of rotini pasta vs fusilli and Simone would be right there with her own two cents. It does not make for riveting drama.

That said director Richard Rose has created the isolated, rocky, beautiful world of the wildness of the Irish coast. Karyn McCallum’s darkish green set of what looks like the rough green of Ireland reflected in the water, is wonderful. The body lies on the stony shore. We hear the sea crashing on the shore. Rebecca Picherack’s lighting is muted. The sense of being away from everything is palpable.

Separation is also palpable in Rose’s production. At the beginning when Pierre and Simone are talking to each other they are sitting almost at opposite ends of the stage. The only closeness is when they approach the body and they are both close to it, but not necessarily to each to each other. Pierre often looks out to sea with his back to Simone. She tries to get close to him but he moves away. The estrangement is beautifully realized by Rose. And then at the end, when Pierre realizes there is something terribly wrong with Simone, closeness returns to this couple. It might be too late. In the subtlest of physical business, Rose establishes for us that there is something no quite right here and that Pierre will be there for Simone.

The acting of the cast of three is very strong. As Simone, Maria del Mar is almost haunted by her loneliness and longing for her husband. As Pierre, Blair Williams is that dashing, distant kind of man attractive to many; loved by one woman, and it doesn’t seem to be enough. Pierre too has his own sense of unease. He seems at odds with himself if not that marriage. As Mary, the person who brings them together, Nicole Underhay is the feisty Irish woman who has firm plans, resolve to put them into play, but a sad realization that it won’t work out. Her Irish accent complete with soft consonants is spot on.

Terrific production of a work that might be best left as a novel.

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The following two reviews were broadcast on Friday, Dec. 13, 2013. CIUT FRIDAY MORNING, 89.5 FM. DANNY AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA at the Brockton Collective Studio 442a Dufferin St. North of Queen, and WEATHER THE WEATHER or how we make it home together. at the Evergreen Brick Works at 550 Bayview Ave.

The guest host was Phil Taylor.

(PHIL)

Good Friday morning. It’s theatre fix time with Lynn Slotkin, our theatre critic and passionate playgoer.  Hi Lynn

(LYNN)

Hi Phil

(PHIL)

What do you have for us today?

(LYNN)

Two show produced by feisty companies. First Danny and the Deep Blue Sea, a love story between two lonely misfits. It’s by John Patrick Shanley who knows about lonely misfits. And it’s produced by the brand new theatre company called Baro Theatre Company.

Then we have Weather the Weather written by Haley McGee and produced by Theatre Columbus. It’s about a brother and a sister who have been displaced by a storm and just want to get home. But what does home mean? We find out. It plays OUTDOORS at the Evergreen Brick Works on Bayview Ave.

(PHIL)

Before we get to the challenge of doing theatre outdoors, tell us about Danny and the Deep Blue Sea.

(LYNN)

Written by the prolific American playwright, John Patrick Shanley. Young companies love doing his plays—I reviewed a terrific production of Savage in Limbo a few months ago by another new company.

That was his third play. Danny and the Deep Blue Sea is Shanley’s second play, written in 1983.

We are in familiar Shanley territory; a deserted bar in the Bronx. A woman sits along at the bar, nursing a beer. She is Roberta. An angry hulk of a man lumbers in, agitated. He is Danny. He sits by himself with a pitcher of beer.

Roberta starts a conversation with him. He’s sullen, gives one word answers and is not interested in talking. He will pick a fight with anyone if he thinks they are looking at him funny. Roberta persists in chatting him up.

She has her own issues. She’s a single mother who got pregnant at 18 and whose father made her get married. Now she’s divorced with a son who is now 13 and difficult. She lives with her parents who take care of the boy. She’s done terrible things and tells him one of them. She’s feisty, at times belligerent, and coy.  By now she’s at his table and he’s talking. Roberta takes Danny home, up the back way to her bedroom where her parents won’t see her or him. The unlikeliest thing happens with this most unlikely of couples—tenderness, romance in a way, and love.

(PHIL)

Why do you say this is familiar Shanley territory?

(LYNN)

No one knows this misfit terrain, a Bronx bar and marginalized people, like Shanley. He’s from the Bronx. He’s tough—expelled from kindergarten. He writes about the lower level of society.  He knows about people so pent up with angry they will explode if they don’t let it out. In the case of Danny that means punching out someone  until they are a bloody mess. In the case of Roberta she takes Danny home for a one-night-stand and that would be it. But Danny has other ideas.

In Shanley’s world there are no neat, simple endings. They are rough, hard won, fragile and true. Danny and the Deep Blue Sea is a roller coater ride of emotions for Roberta and Danny. When you think it will end well Shanley puts a wrench in the proceedings. When you think things are turning bad, he throws another curve.

He’s a terrific writer who can look into the dark, sad heart of the walking wounded and make us care deeply for them.

(PHIL)

And it’s a new theatre company that’s producing it. Now that’s brave.

(LYNN)

Brave indeed. Stepping up to the plate to do this play proud is the brand new Baro Theatre Company headed by Brooke Morgan who also plays Roberta. Mark Wiebe plays Danny and Aaron Willis directs.

Willis has a sure, confident director’s hand and guides the production with sensitivity, intense physicality when it calls for it, and an overall grace that gently takes the audience into this world, grips them, and doesn’t let them go until the very last clap of applause.

For the first part of the play audience faces the bar. They are in simple folding chairs. When Roberta and Danny are in her bedroom, the audience just turns their chairs around to face the bed.

As Roberta, Brooke Morgan is wily, coy, seductive, tenacious, tender, insecure, and all manner of emotions that keep her stuck in her own wheel-spinning world.

As Danny, Mark Wiebe seems to have a constant scowl and clenched fists, ready to punch out anyone who insults him or who he imagines insults him. Everything about him hurts. He hates to be touched. And yet these two lost souls find each other and won’t let the other go when one wants to leave.

The world changes for them subtly, gradually and with nuance. For such an in-your-face writer, Shanley is just as accomplished when being tender, gentle and open-hearted. Baro Theatre Company is a new fearless theatre company to watch. Seeing their dandy production of Danny in the Deep Blue Sea before it closes Dec. 15 is a great way to start.

And it plays at a new space as well, the Brockton Collective Studio on Dufferin. Every thing about this production, the new company and new space is a wonderful surprise and just makes me happy.

(PHIL)

And now for something completely different. A play outside?

(LYNN)

A play outside. Theatre Columbus is following up on their hugely successful outdoor production last year of The Story, about the nativity story, with another play Weather the Weather or how we make it home together.

Playwright, Haley McGee uses a Swedish folk tale as her basis for her wonderful play. What is home?  Is it where we live?  Where we wander to and land? Is it in the mind? These are some of the questions playwright Haley McGee is exploring in this enchanting, beautifully executed production.

A brother and sister are displaced from their home by a terrible storm brought on by an evil troll who controls the weather. In the process the brother is hit by lightening and is illuminated with crackling regularity.

Initially they try and find their way home—the sister has a map and a compass and a plan.  But after a while the brother is just weary and wants to stay there and make a new home.  They part, angrily, each going his/her separate ways, meeting all manner of adventure and mishap.

Because the brother is frequently illuminated, he is captured by the Troll who craves light.  She-yes the troll is a she—also has a more than passing acquaintance with Yiddishisms.

The sister in the meantime gives up her map to two troll like creatures in exchange for information on her brother. She also meets a prince who can do magic, is smitten with her and wants to make her chilli. And it all plays out in the park behind the Evergreen Brick Works on Bayview Ave.

(PHIL)

How does that work?   

(LYNN)

Jennifer Brewin has directed this with dazzling imagination, gentle wit and humour.  You gather in the main building to get a cup of hot chocolate if you want.

You follow a woman who lights the way with a glowing lampshade on the end of a long pole so that everybody can see it.  We gather around a circular area as our first stop to hear the beginning of the story.

Two white multi-levelled structures are on a large sheet on the ground. They represent the village of the brother and sister. A terrible storm comes up; characters grip the sheet and flip it in the air and the structures rise up and are suspended. Voila, the village destroyed and everyone displaced.

The brother who is truck by lightening has a glowing glove and parts of his costume. The Troll who craves light and sprinkles her dialogue with Yiddish words, has an elaborate head dress of two large antler-like horns that glow in the dark. We follow the lit lampshade from scene to scene as the brother and sister persevere to find home.

The cast of five are all charming: Kawa Ada plays the whimsical brother; Amy Lee his determined-to-follow- her-plan-sister; Lisa Karen Cox is the annoyed troll, Colin Doyle in various parts—our narrator and one of the minions–all done with style; and Courtenay Stevens, also plays various parts but mainly the prince who knows magic and how to make chilli. And at the end the audience is offered a wonderful surprise of welcome.

The vivid set and imaginative costumes are designed by Catherine Hahn. The wonderful lighting is by Glenn Davidson—you won’t look at light in the same way after this show. And I guess the piece de resistance is that we are also guided along our way by various musicians who play the trombone

The show lasts an hour. It is done outdoors so dress warmly. Accommodation can be made for people who do not walk well. They can sit in a chair along the way. There is a free shuttle bus from Broadview Station to the site. Everything about this production will make you smile.

(PHIL)

Thanks Lynn. That’s Lynn Slotkin, our theatre critic and passionate playgoer. You can read Lynn’s blog at www.slotkinletter.com

Danny and the Deep Blue Sea plays at the Brockton Studio Collective at 442A Dufferin   Street until Dec. 15.

www.BrownPaperTickets.com

Weather the Weather plays at the Evergreen Brick Works at 550   Bayview Avenue until Dec. 30.

www.theatrecolumbus.ca

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Danny and the Deep Blue Sea

At the Brockton Collective Studio, 442a Dufferin St. north of Queen, Toronto. Written by John Patrick Shanley, Directed by Aaron Willis. Set by Jay Pooley. Costumes by Alyksandra Ackerman. Lighting by Jennifer Lennon. Sound by Gordon Hyland.  Starring Brooke Morgan and Mark Wiebe.

Produced by Baro Theatre Company. Plays until Dec. 15.

There’s a whole lot of fearless going on in indie theatre companies of late, as both new and established companies produce challenging plays, with terrific results. In October Bob Kills Theatre produced a compelling production of John Patrick Shanley’s play, Savage in Limbo, about a group of lost souls trying to make it through a boozy night. In November, Theatre Gargantua created an imaginative and gripping production of their original piece called The Sacrifice Zone, about a community coping with a devastating disaster. Red One Theatre Collective produced a thrilling production of Patrick Marber’s After Miss Julie about sex, class and ambition.

The latest company to join this fearless list is the new Baro Theatre Company and its recent production of Danny and the Deep Blue Sea by John Patrick Shanley (popular playwright, he).

We are in familiar Shanley territory; a bar in the Bronx. A woman sits along at the bar, nursing a beer. An angry hulk of a man lumbers in, agitated. He sits by himself with a pitcher of beer. The woman starts a conversation with him. He’s sullen, gives one word answers and is not interested in talking. He has a chip on his shoulder that seems to be forming into an inoperable lump. He will pick a fight with anyone if he thinks they are looking at him funny. His knuckles are raw-red from some recent encounters.

She persists in chatting him up. She’s had her own issues. She’s a single mother who got pregnant at 18 and whose father made her get married. It didn’t last. She’s divorced with a son who is now 13 and difficult. She lives with her parents who take care of the boy. She’s done terrible things and tells him one of them. She’s feisty, at times belligerent, and coy.  By now she’s at his table and he’s talking, but, man, is he in a rage about everything, and he’s dangerous with that rage.

The woman is Roberta and the man is Danny. Roberta takes Danny home, up the back way to her bedroom where her parents won’t see her or him. The unlikeliest thing happens with this most unlikely of couples—tenderness, romance in a way, and love.

No one knows this misfit terrain, a Bronx bar and marginalized people, like Shanley. He writes about the lower level of society.  He knows about people so pent up with angry they will explode if they don’t let it out. In the case of Danny that means punching out someone or three until they are a bloody mess. In the case of Roberta she takes Danny home for a quickie one-night-stand and that would be it. But Danny has other ideas.

In Shanley’s world there are no neat, simple endings. They are rough, hard won, fragile and true. Danny and the Deep Blue Sea is a roller coater ride of emotions for Roberta and Danny. When you think it will end well Shanley puts a wrench in the proceedings. When you think things are turning bad, he throws another curve. Every single turn in the story is true, honest and right. He’s a terrific writer who can look into the dark, sad heart of the walking wounded and make us care deeply for them.

Stepping up to the plate to do this play proud is the brand new Baro Theatre Company headed by Brooke Morgan who also plays Roberta. Mark Wiebe plays Danny and Aaron Willis directs. Willis has a sure, confident director’s hand and guides the production with sensitivity, intense physicality when it calls for it, and an overall grace that gently takes the audience into this world, grips them, and doesn’t let them go until the very last clap of applause.

As Roberta, Brooke Morgan is wily, coy, seductive, aggressive, tenacious, tender, insecure, and all manner of emotions that keep her stuck in her own wheel-spinning world.

As Danny, Mark Wiebe seems to have a constant scowl and clenched fists, ready to punch out anyone who insults him or who he imagines insults him. You cross the street to avoid this kind of guy. Everything about him hurts. He hates to be touched. And yet these two lost souls find each other and won’t let the other go when one wants to leave. The world changes for them subtly, gradually and with nuance.

For such an in-your-face writer, Shanley is just as accomplished when being tender, gentle and open-hearted.

Baro Theatre Company is a new fearless theatre company to watch. Seeing their dandy production of Danny and the Deep Blue Sea before it closes Dec. 15 is a great way to start.

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The following two reviews were broadcast on Friday, Dec. 6, 2013. CIUT FRIDAY MORNING, CIUT 89.5 FM. The Gay Heritage Project at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre until Dec. 8, and The Tin Drum at the Aki Studio Theatre, Daniels Spectrum Centre 585 Dundas Street East.

The guest host was Phil Taylor.

(PHIL)

Good Friday morning, it’s time for our theatre blast from Lynn Slotkin, our theatre critic and passionate playgoer. Hi Lynn

(LYNN)

Hi Phil

(PHIL)

What theatre treats are you going to talk about this week?

(LYNN)

Yes both are treats in their own way. First there is The Gay Heritage Project at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre that was created and performed by three terrific actors: Damien Atkins, Paul Dunn and Andrew Kushnir.

And then an original adaptation of The Tin Drum the sobering novel by German writer Günter Grass, about a kid who chooses not to grow up but play his tin drum all the time while the world blew up around in.

(PHIL)

Let’s start with The Gay Heritage Project. What is it?

(LYNN)

The Gay Heritage Project is created and performed by three gifted actors: Damien Atkins, Paul Dunn and Andrew Kushnir.

The intention of the piece, as per a program note: ‘is the attempt to weave together all the disparate threads that have contributed towards today’s western gay identity.’

It’s a huge undertaking. The impetus was that the three felt disconnected as gay men from general history and even isolated and alienated because of this lack of connection to that general history.

So about five years ago they began their research into this subject. And four years ago took the idea to Brendan Healy, the Artistic Director of Buddies in Bad Times Theatre who got behind the project whole heartedly.

In their research the three actors found stories and myths about gay culture from the context of other cultures—Africa, Asia, ancient Greece etc. Some of the resultant research revealed stories and facts that were uplifting and in other instances, horrifying. Paul Dunn found accounts of the horrific treatment of gays in concentration camps during WWII.

All three are united in this piece to find a gay heritage to connect with. I found what they unearthed really fascinating, but the piece took on a more poignant feeling to it when they got personal.

(PHIL)

How so?

(LYNN)

The show begins with Damien Atkins creating his fantasy of Canadian figure skater Brian Orser doing a complicated, challenging routine, seemingly in private except that Atkins is at home and occasionally his parents comment, and in a supportive way. A sibling is smarmy, but one expects that if siblings. It’s a lovely beginning.

Andrew Kushnir’s family is from Ukraine and he couldn’t find any reference to their being any gays in Ukraine. His mother said their weren’t any. Kushnir found that hard to believe and went on his own quest to find the truth, which he eventually did.

While the work is cohesive and seamless I found an interesting contradiction. Paul Dunn refers to his two colleagues as ‘my dear gay friends.’ Yet when Damien Atkins comments on being an actor it’s just that, an actor. He resents it when he’s referred to as a gay actor.

It’s his job to do a part and not be branded because of his sexuality. I love his commanding resolve in the definition.

(PHIL)

How do they actually present this production. Is it just stand and discourse?

(LYNN)

No. It’s directed by Ashlie Corcoran and it’s full of energy, movement, wit and generosity.

The very first thing is that while the audience is in the theatre, waiting for the show to begin, the three come out and shake hands with people in the audience and introduce themselves. Individually they greet the front row; then along the sides. They look you in the eye and they shake hands with a two handed shake. Solid.

The set and lighting (Kimberly Purtell) is simple. A few chairs that are moved around where they sit. At the beginning, on the back wall is a rolling projection defining what Heritage means.

Each actor has an individual body language. Paul Dunn, rather serious, sprawls in his chair with his legs spread out. Andrew Kushnir sits up, attentive. Damien Atkins sits up in his chair with his feet flat against the legs of the chair.

Kushnir tells a story, as if he is talking to the other two, and plays the other two as well. When he is Dunn he sprawls in his chair with his legs out looking serious, and when he is Atkins he sits up with his feet against the legs and when he is himself he sits up, attentive.

When one is talking, doing a bit, the other two sit at the sidelines watching. Kushnir is more likely to react and smile. Dunn is more serious. All three are compelling.

The thing I found so engaging about the piece is their true curiosity to find their heritage in this context. The telling and their discoveries are never bitter, angry or negative. They share their revelations with an open-hearted generosity.

What I get more than anything from it is that these three men are what my people (of the Jewish persuasion) would call “mensch” a Yiddish word that means human being in all their shining glory.

This is a wonderful production of an important subject that will make you bend over laughing and move you to your toes.

(PHIL)

And now The Tin Drum. How brave to even attempt to adapt that dense book for the stage. Let’s start with a  brief précis.

(LYNN)

Based on Günter Grass’s 1959 novel. It takes place in Poland. It’s about Oskar who got a tin drum when he was three and became obsessed with it. He was also obsessed with not growing up when he heard his father say that when Oskar grew up he would go into the family grocery business. This didn’t sit well with Oskar at all so he hurled himself down the cellar stairs and stopped growing and played the drum all the time.

He also didn’t speak except later in the play with someone he considered a friend.

As time went on Oskar witnessed his mother having an affair with a cousin; she dies in childbirth; his father remarries; Oskar has affairs of his own (although he hasn’t grown): he witnesses the invasion of the Nazis; he seems oblivious to the evil and creates some of his own without conscience.

Günter Grass’s novel is huge so it was a challenge for adapters Chris Hanratty and Shira Leuchter to bring the book to life on the stage.

(PHIL)

And do they succeed?

(LYNN)

Partially. It begins in an insane asylum and Oskar is writing his memoirs. He begins telling us his story, beginning with his grandmother and moving up to his parents and goes from there.

In the novel, Oskar is very sexually active but that seems to be either toned down here or so subtle I missed it. Characters have been cut; sweeping incidents have been cut or again pared down.  Oskar is a witness to history and often involved in it. He’s told not to be in the audience but right up there when the haranguing speeches are bellowed.

All the while he plays his drum—in a wonderful bit during a haranguing speech by a Nazi, Oskar beats out a waltz beat and not a rousing beat, thus leaving the audience docile and not agitated as was the intention of the man bellowing the speech.

The story ends with Oskar in the asylum again but it’s not clear why he’s there. It is a brave effort to tame the beast known as The Tim Drum. I think the production is pretty impressive.

(PHIL)

How so?

(LYNN)

It’s directed by Chris Hanratty who has an intriguing eye for the clever, effective image. Oskar has a talent of using his voice to such a piercing pitch he can shatter glass. So he screams; there is a pop and a flurry of paper explodes in the air, representing the glass. In another scene an invading army is marching into the town.

Each soldier balances a pole across his shoulders, and hanging down from it are many shoes bashing on the floor—voila, a marching army. So inventive.

There is a lot of movement and there is no finer choreographer than Monica Dottor who always integrates the movement fluidly into the story.

As Oskar, Jesse Aaron Dwyre is impish with an explosion of dark curls; slight so he could suggest he is three, and dextrous when he’s bashing the drum.

You can be both charmed by Dwyer as Oskar and also frightened because Oskar doesn’t seem to have a conscience. Dwyer is always compelling. As is the rest of the cast.

We rarely see The Tin Drum and while I have reservations about the adaptation, I think it’s worth a visit for the inventive production.

(PHIL)

Thanks Lynn. That’s Lynn Slotkin, our theatre critic and passionate playgoer. You can read Lynn’s blog at www.slotkinletter.com

The Gay Heritage Project plays at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre until Dec. 8.

www.buddiesinbadtimes.com

The Tin Drum plays at the Aki Theatre part of the Daniels Spectrum Centre at 585 Dundas Street E.

www.unspuntheatre.com

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Aladdin

At the Ed Mirvish Theatre, Toronto. Book and additional lyrics by Chad Beguelin. Directed and Choreographed by Casey Nicholaw. Music by Alan Menken. Lyrics by Howard Ashman and Tim Rice. Set by Bob Crowley. Costumes by Gregg Barnes. Lighting by Natasha Katz. Starring: Clifton Davis, Jonathan Freeman,  James Monroe Iglehart, Adam Jacobs, Courtney Reed..

Disney Theatrical Productions presents Aladdin at the Ed Mirvish Theatre until January 5.

I don’t know what is more eye-popping about Aladdin, the new Broadway-bound musical, now at the Ed Mirvish Theatre, the sumptuous costumes of Gregg Barnes, the dazzling sets by Bob Crowley, or the gleaming white teeth of Adam Jacobs as Aladdin.

The musical of course is based on the beloved animated film. Aladdin is a charming ‘street rat’, a petty thief when he has to be and charming with a big heart. He is coerced by the nasty Jafar, to steal a magic lamp with a genie inside, Jafar intends to use the mighty genie to get rid of the sultan and take the fancy turban (‘crown’ in ordinary stories but this is the Arabian Nights we’re dealing with) for himself. Only a common street person could get by the terrible monster guarding the place where the magic lamp is.

Aladdin does the deed, but somehow winds up with the lamp himself; rubs it; meets the mighty Genie; bonds with him; meets the Princess Jasmine (the Sultan’s daughter); falls in love with her and she him; battles Jafar and his ever-present-sword-swinging-henchmen-takes advantage of the three wishes offered by the Genie; and after a lot of adventure, fights, a magic carpet ride and lots of smiling, it all ends rather well for everybody, except Jafar.

Aladdin has all the dazzling big-Broadway pizzazz that many expect of a Broadway musical. It also has a book by Chad Beguelin that on the one hand pokes fun at itself always reminding us that this is a Broadway musical, and on the other hand has some really sophisticated puns and jokes. The constant swirl of activity, endless sword-fights and lots of pratfalls will engage kids. Gregg Barnes’ ravishing costumes will be talked about for days, and Bob Crowley’s equally impressive sets create that world of riches, sumptuous excess and magic. There is a magic carpet with attendant shooting stars that light the sky—Natasha Katz dazzles with her lighting effects.

The cast is high octane starting with the gleaming-toothed Adam Jacobs as Aladdin. He is charming, always focused in the scene, a young man who is conflicted about his place in the world, but when he sees Jasmine, he is sure she is for him. Jacobs gives a lovely performance of a young man who grows into the person he was meant to be.

As Jasmine, Courtney Reed has sass, takes no nonsense, and she too has charm. The nasty Jafar is played by the deep-voiced Jonathan Freeman. Jafar is a guy just born to be jeered for his nastiness and Freeman (who created the voice of the character for the animated film) now plays him with controlled creepiness. The energy of the show seems to ramp up when the Genie, in the person of James Monroe Iglehart, appears from out of a gush of smoke and loud music. Iglehart jives, shimmies, sways, jumps and struts his stuff while telling of his powers and he can do. Watching Iglehart play this part is liking a tsunami of energy pinning you to the seat, defying you not to be impressed and completely bowled over. Director-Choreographer, Casey Nicholaw knows how to work every aspect of this musical so that this fairy-tale about being true to yourself, disarms even the staunches of curmudgeons. He has an eye for the big picture. He can envision a carpet flying in the dark sky with illuminate planets and stars passing by magically. The show is full of magic—characters disappear over here, and appear over there, costumes change before out eyes, sets float on and off, changing on the journey. Alan Menken has brought his lush music from the film to the musical.

Aladdin has everything to attract kids, their parents’ and their parents and send them home smiling.

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