January 20th, 2011, 2 Comments »
“A crisp, smart urban comedy about modern relationships in crisis.” That’s how the Vancouver Playhouse introduces their newest play, This, from Vancouver-born playwright Melissa James Gibson. The play, directed by Amiel Gladstone, had its Canadian premiere last Thursday night.
I should disclose, before continuing, that Ami and I were classmates at UVic and I have, on at least one occasion, taken his money in a hockey pool.
The production is really solid. Alison Green’s set elegantly works as a hyper-realistic apartment for the main action that morphs into a number of more abstract satellite locations. The actors seemed to have a few opening night jitters, and but they soon found their feet and, with a few exceptions, delivered worthy performances. Among the cast is a Canadian icon, Megan Follows, of Anne with an E fame.
The action was pacey and entertaining, and despite the merciful lack of intermission, I didn’t glance at my watch until 10 minutes before the play’s conclusion. The opening night audience was delighted, and I missed a few lines thanks to the volume and duration of their laughter.
For the play is funny. It invites you into the sharp-tongued conversations of an ethnically-diverse set of attractive professionals living in New York. One’s an African-American jazz singer. Another is a French doctor. Another is a Jewish, gay mnemonist (I wanted to see a whole play just about him, a man who remembers everything). It’s a bit like Rent, but with fewer the songs.
Obsessed with language
Gibson earns her laugh through wordplay. In fact, the play is obsessed with language. The characters constantly talk about talking and words: How do you pronounce “Brita”? What’s the French word for “resilience”? What is the precise definition of “dinky”?
Halfway through the play, one of the characters asks, exasperated, “can we stop talking about punctuation?” Amen.
And yet the audience was captivated by the cut and thrust of the dialogue. And, after all, isn’t this kind of repartee as old as Shakespeare? Or older? Why was I so dismayed?
Maybe it’s because the plot was so scant, and so precarious in its formation. The play’s first important incident is an infidelity, and it seems vaguely unconvincing. Often, I felt that Gibson had spent too much time on the wordplay, and not enough on rendering real bonds between the characters.
I might feel better if the play saw itself strictly as a light comedy or farce. However, This takes a dark turn at its climax, a turn that feels out of place and unearned.
Amused and bemused
I left the Playhouse feeling both amused and bemused. What is this play really about? And how seriously am I supposed to take it? How modern relationships are alienating? That grief never leaves us? That friendships are fragile and temporary?
Charles Isherwood’s review of the off-Broadway production of This says that it’s:
A play about how we process love, hurt and loss by concocting tidy stories to recall our experience, or reshape it — and sometimes to frame a happier future too.
Closer to home, The Sun’s Peter Bernie seems to agree with me.:
…let This lag and audiences would realize just how shallow the supposedly complex story really is. Less a case of artistic craftsmanship than slightly cynical manufacturing of a Neil Simon comedy for a new generation, This is best presented at a romp that’s not far from farce.
Don’t get me wrong–This is an enjoyable evening of theatre. There’s just something a little hollow and false at the play’s centre.
This runs at the Playhouse through January 29.
A geeky footnote: It struck me that, for a play set in 2009 (as far as I could tell) among 30-something New Yorkers, it’s strikingly free of technology. One character takes a call on a cell phone, and another once refers to email. There is nary a laptop or smart phone to be seen or mentioned. I’ve noticed this in other contemporary plays, and I suspect that it’s intentional on the part of the playwright. They’re keen not to root the play too specifically in time or space. How, for example, could you make a play that mentions, say, fax machines and floppy discs feel timeless?
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March 24th, 2010, 2 Comments »
Note to Loyal Readers: I’m aware that this is the fourth theatre review I’ve posted in the last three weeks. Never fear, that should be enough for a while.
Last week I was invited to the opening of “Paradise Garden”, the premier production by Arts Club Theatre Company of Lucia Frangione’s (yet another Canadian playwright who deserves a Wikipedia entry) new play.
Set “off the coast of the Gulf Islands” (an in-exact phrase if there ever was one), “Paradise Garden” tells a story of star-cross love between Day, played by Kevin McDonald, a slacker Islander who’s inherited the rambling family estate, and Layla, the daughter of Turkish parents who’s renting on Day’s property. Layla, played by Frangione, ministers to her dying mother and clashes with her stubborn, traditional father. On the other side of the hedge, Day struggles to find his way in the world among the wreckage of his parents’ divorce–she’s a fake-breasted cougar and he’s a curmudgeonly pot farmer. Both characters suffer from a delayed childhood–they’re still under their parents’ wings, despite being in their late 20s when the play opens.
Listening to Frangione’s text, I remember that I’d seen another of her plays, “Espresso”, a few years back at Pacific Theatre. Both plays are rich with lush imagery, as evocative as her name. She’s got a knack for rapidly leading us from the mundane to the visceral without forcing the transitions. “Paradise Garden” is wordy, but in a light, spoon-fed kind of way that’s totally forgivable.
I was less forgiving of a device in which the lead characters spoke of themselves in the third person. There didn’t seem to be a rationale for this trope–neither character was particularly alienated from their true selves–so it just felt forced. I could have also done without Adam and Eve metaphors (maybe that’s more in the staging than the script?), and some criticisms of Canadian culture felt tired.
Capillaries or Seaweed?
The cast was strong, though the female actors felt more fully realized, more comfortable in their skin. McDonald, in particular, took a long time to find his feet. He’s got a lot to balance in maintaining Day’s laissez-faire outlook while still seeming appealing enough to overachieving Layla’s. Frangione gives Day an unexpected educational upgrade in the second act, probably to satisfy this requirement.
Photo by Ross Den Otter
Morris Ertman and Ted Roberts seemed to struggle in realizing Frangione’s vision of the setting. She provides tons of on-stage business and textual indications about the setting, but Roberts’ set seemed to be more a compromise than a bold statement. I either wanted less set, and we rely on Frangione’s words, or a totally realistic set. In any case, the actual set featured a kind of over-sized blue capillary system above a pool and archway. We spend 120 minute wondering why it’s there, and the payoff doesn’t quite feel worth the effort.
I sound like I’m down on the production, but I’d recommend “Paradise Garden” to somebody looking for an inoffensive but pleasing night at the theatre. It runs through April 11 at the Stanley Theatre. There’s some nudity, mostly of the male variety.
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January 31st, 2010, 2 Comments »
A reader wrote with an interesting question. They’re planning on going to see a play this month–Robert Lepage’s “The Blue Dragon”, and wondered “do I go to opening night? I’m sure they had months to rehearse, but maybe there’s jitters?”
And here’s what I said. If you’re looking for the best artistic experience, I wouldn’t go on opening night. There are always jitters among the performers, and that can result in an uneven or less nuanced performance. Also–this is particularly the case with Lepage’s highly-complex work–the risk of a technical issue declines with each performance. Last year, I know somebody who attended an opening night at the Belfry Theatre in Victoria and the lighting basically failed. The very-professional actress had to do her entire one-woman show under house lights.
I’d also avoid the closing night show, for some of the same reasons. The ideal show might be a Friday night in the second-half of the run. There are often matinees on Saturday, and I figure the actors may be pacing themselves to handle the demands of doing the show twice in the same day.
I’m going to see that Lepage play this month as well, and I’m pretty psyched. What night do you like to go to a play?
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January 25th, 2010, 3 Comments »
For many British Columbians, the words ‘Haida Gwaii’ speak of mystery. The words mean ‘Islands of the People’, and refer to the misty, cold Queen Charlotte Islands on BC’s coast. They’re familiar to most of us from Emily Carr’s paintings, if nothing else.
The Haida Gwaii is the backdrop for Bruce Ruddell’s “Beyond Eden”. The musical premiered last Thursday at the Vancouver Playhouse, one of the many events of the Cultural Olympiad. Here’s the plot summary:
In the abandoned Haida village of Ninstints stand totem poles. They have stood there for decades. Lewis Wilson and his long-time friend and colleague Max Tomson are on an expedition to rescue these totem poles and save them from their waterlogged, beetle-infested and fragile condition. On their journey both men struggle: Wilson with his authority and resistance to removing the poles; Max to find his place between the white world and his Haida ancestry.
The play is based on actual events. A young Bill Reid–bound to become a famed sculptor–made the actual trip in 1957.
Clever Projections and Inoffensive Songs
Director Dennis Garnhum and set designer Bretta Gerecke cleverly realize this world–the deck of a ship and the trees of Haidi Gwaii–through crisscrossing ramps, intersected by huge timbers that reach into the theatre’s fly tower. They make excellent use of projections, both to simply establish location and, in the more mystical scenes, to evoke mood. During one song–”Carving”, I think–the Haida totems are brought back to life through tricky use of animated projections, a technique which so often goes wrong in contemporary theatre.
The cast is mostly strong, with John Mann (yes, of Spirit of the West fame) and Jennifer Lines (a former UVic classmate of mine) standing out. There were some opening night jitters, and a little clunkiness from some of the chorus members, but Mann’s performance carries us through the meandering storyline.
It’s hard to write one good song, let alone fifteen. The music was unremarkable and, for the most part, inoffensive. A few days later, I find I can still hum the tune from the title song, so that’s something. More interesting was the a capella First Nations music–it’s a form you usually don’t hear outside of tourist traps and documentaries.
Though the play is set in 1957, the script is oddly free of period slang or more than a few token cultural references. Elvis is mentioned a couple of times, but that’s the extent of it. I was also thrown by phrases like “I get that” and “is there a problem here?” which have a much more modern feel to them.
Reid’s Work Makes a Strong Case
The play’s central question–should the characters take and preserve these totems or leave them to rot?–seems at first like a question ripe for debate. In his director’s notes, Garnhum refers to “the true cost of the removal of the [sic] Totem Poles”. While the village where the totems stand has long since been abandoned, the play’s Haidi characters demand that the totems should be left in their rightful spot, to decay and be reclaimed by the forest, as has occurred for thousands of years. However, there will be no new poles to replace the old ones. As the play points out, that cycle has been broken.
At the same time, the Bill Reid character–born of a Haida mother, both in the play and in real life–wants to take and preserve the poles so that he can learn from them. He says, “When I am ready, I will raise a pole of my own. And another and another.” Of course, Reid turned out to be an extraordinary artist and preserver of Haida culture (I count his Raven and the First Man as one of my favourite pieces of Canadian art). From the year 2010, Reid’s accomplishments since taken the poles are incredibly convincing evidence in support of his decision.
“Beyond Eden” isn’t without its cliches. Growing up on the West Coast, I got exposed to a lot of First Nations-themed art. I’ve seen plenty of magical realist plays where there’s some raven or eagle or muskrat who wears a goofy costume and dances around the stage prophesying and telling fables. “Beyond Eden” has ‘The Watchman’, clad in Haida regalia, who serves a similar purpose. Plus, the play name checks the familiar injustices the white man inflicted upon the Haida–residential schools, banned potlatches and small pox.
They’re familiar stories, capably told. I’d probably discourage my more cynical Vancouver friends from attending. On the other hand–and this seems to be the litmus test, in light of the Olympics–I’d probably recommend the production to out-of-towners who didn’t know this part of our province’s history.
It is so Canadian that, when the world comes to visit, we trot out our historical misdeeds for their entertainment. It’s an impulse that both frustrates and delights me.
“Beyond Eden” runs through February 6. You can watch a trailer for the show on the Playhouse’s website.
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January 10th, 2010, 11 Comments »
I’ve got a friend who works in the administrative department of a local arts organization. She took a call from a parent:
PARENT: Hi. My son’s class recently watched a performance at your theatre for a school project. However, my son was sick so he couldn’t attend. Would it be possible to organize a ticket for him for another performance instead?
FRIEND: Absolutely–let me just check our records. What school does he go to?
PARENT: Simon Fraser University.
I wish I’d made this up. What can I tell you? Every generation is more coddled than the last.
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March 3rd, 2009, 2 Comments »
One of the first pieces of writing advice you ever hear is “write what you know”. This is valuable, if imprecise wisdom. It means both “write about that with which you are familiar” and “do your research to learn about the rest”.
As a young writer, I always felt a little hamstrung by this advice, because what I knew seemed so ordinary. Douglas Coupland was an author who delivered me from the fear of writing about my utterly ordinary life. After all, what was more familiar and ordinary to a middle-class Vancouver kid than Generation X and Shampoo Planet?
I don’t write fiction or drama all that often–I find it very difficult, and I’m lazy–but I still take reassurance when I read great writers writing about the ordinary. This winter I read Joseph O’Neil’s extraordinary Netherland, the best novel I’ve read in years. I just heard an interview (meh, RealAudio on that page, but here’s a link to an MP3 version) with him, and was struck by how similar his own life is to that of his protagonist in Netherland. They both grew up in Holland, they both love cricket, they both lived in New York’s Chelsea Hotel and so forth. If O’Neil can write a masterpiece built on such familiar plots and premises, then there’s probably hope for the rest of us.
I should mention that I took my own advice back in 2006 when I wrote a play called Bolloxed (I gave up the domain a while back, and the squatting page there now is very odd). It was about a Canadian software developer living in Ireland.
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June 20th, 2008, 3 Comments »
On Thursday night, I was thrilled to see “Dead Man’s Cell Phone”, a play at Chicago’s famed Steppenwolf Theatre. In terms of new American drama, Steppenwolf is one of the more influential companies in the country.
While not being exactly to my tastes, the production was executed at an exceptionally high level. I really enjoyed Polly Noonan’s performance in the lead role. Reading her bio, I noticed that she was credited with an appearance in the 1986 comedy classic, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I couldn’t imagine who she might have played.
When I got home, I looked it up. She’s the “girl on bus”, who Principal Rooney talks to in the closing credits. She has this awesome line:
Gummy bear? It’s been in my pocket; they’re real warm and soft.
Here’s a murky little photo, and here’s some dodgy, auto-playing video. She has the rare honour of being credited in the closing credits before her appearance in the film.
To add to her peculiar resume (don’t get me wrong–she’s done a ton of impressive theatre work), the lower-half of Ms. Noonan’s face appears on the cover of The Lemonhead’s album, “It’s a Shame About Ray”.
While looking for a clip of a young Polly Noonan, I discovered a clip from Siskel and Ebert’s review of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
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