Wow. Where has the summer gone? I'm way behind once again. Luckily (for writing purposes), August has been less filled with theatre, so I only have a few things to catch up about here.
Office Hours at the Port Mansion Theatre (Lakeside Players)
Back at the end of July, I saw Office Hours at the tiny Port Mansion Theatre, a very fun little venue in which to perform and view shows. I'll be the first to admit that the apparent popularity of Norm Foster is, to a great degree, lost on me. Sure, he tosses in some great comedic lines, but I don't necessarily find his shows (as a body of work) overly funny or original -- particularly when placed side by side, when their similarities one to another become glaringly evident. That said, I think Office Hours was one of my best Foster viewing experiences. The show, made up of five short segments stitched together with common story threads, generally worked well, though a couple of segments simply don't have enough forward movement to make them essential to the bigger picture. Nice work on stage, though, and some good laughs made the evening quite enjoyable.
Sea of Sand on Spanish Banks West Beach in Vancouver (The Only Animal)
The concept here -- to perform a piece of theater using the beach and ocean as set -- is intriguing, but the end result was a bit washed out. The story, involving an amnesiac piecing back together his own back story in relation to two women -- one his wife and the other a mystery woman who came from the sea -- seems a bit try-too-hard and doesn't have the teeth it thinks it has. The use of pre-recorded dialogue, played on loudspeakers on the beach, could have worked, though the sometimes-live dialogue that overlapped it again seemed a bit "artsy" without real clear purpose. The event is what makes the show, not the show itself. It's just nice to go and sit on the sand and see some quirky little theatre piece with friends.
Les Miserables at the Fifth Avenue Theatre (Seattle)
The 25th anniversary production of Les Mis was well worth seeing. Having seen several productions of the show, it's good to know it can still keep my attention and surprise me, now and then, as well. This production stands out for two main reasons for me: the use of digitally altered and projected paintings by Victor Hugo as backdrops was surprisingly effective, and the edgiest (and slightly vicious) Mme Thenardier I've yet seen in the show. Fantastic. The kids, also, were excellent in this cast.
Come Fly Away at the Four Seasons Centre for Performing Arts (Dancap)
Regardless of what the promotional materials say, this is not a musical; it is a contemporary ballet. I know that "Musical" will sell more tickets than "Ballet" on the Broadway touring circuit, but I take exception to the misleading nature of it. Told entirely in dance (see? ballet) with a live orchestra and prerecorded vocals by Frank Sinatra (see? not a musical), the extent of story is simply that four couples meet at a night club, fight, and then get back together. The choreography by Twyla Tharp is pretty brilliant, as is the dancing. I'm a bit thrown by how we, the audience, are meant to respond to one of the four couples' storylines, as we see a rather abusive relationship play out before they reconcile for a happy ending. Are we meant to be happy for them? I really wanted the woman to kick him in the plums and move on, not get back together for a sunny reunion. Odd...
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theatre. Show all posts
Saturday, September 03, 2011
Saturday, August 06, 2011
The 2011 Summer Stage Review (Part III)
I guess it’s time to look back a few weeks and catch up on some of my live theatre viewing, as well.
Camelot at the Festival Theatre (Stratford Shakespeare Festival)
The shortest way to discuss Camelot at Stratford is to say that it’s a good production of a bad show. I know that certain people out there (and one who might actually be reading this, in particular) will disagree with me on the latter half of that statement, but the fact remains that if one really looks at the show’s structure, major difficulties become evident. Be that as it may, giving credit where credit is due, the production at Stratford is decent. The cast is the show’s saving grace, with Geraint Wyn Davies bringing a rather modern humour to the text (though his vocals sometimes seemed a bit unenergized in the lackluster music numbers he’s burdened with) and Brent Carver pretty much saving the day every time he’s on stage as Pelinore (probably the best written role in the show, period). Unfortunately, Jonathan Winsby as Lancelot seems to have a French accent that comes and goes with the tide twice daily, and Lucy Peacock is pretty much wasted in the terribly written part of Morgan le Fey, but still the production looks and sounds good and they do their best to keep things moving along. That said, they were still unable to convince me to like Camelot, the show; I still think it’s a hack job of writing. (The original production had many challenges – the first show in Toronto went until nearly one in the morning and major cuts came afterwards, and one can only wonder if at some point they should have said, “Wipe the slate clean. Let’s start from scratch.” – and Loewe didn’t even want to write the music in the first place. Hmmm.)
Next to Normal at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts (Dancap)
More than a show about a family dealing with mental health, Next to Normal is about a family dealing with each other on many levels: dealing with grief, with marriage, with parenthood and childhood, and with the struggles that come when things (and people) don’t live up to expectations. The music serves the story well, though I can’t say one leaves the theatre singing anything in particular – I couldn’t for the life of me hum anything from the show right now – and the writing keeps things moving along without feeling rushed. Though some of the … ahem … people of a certain generation around me expressed some confusion regarding some of the story, I didn’t find it that difficult to follow (and neither did my theatre-viewing companion, who doesn’t even read long books). If I have one complaint about the production, and I do, it’s that Alice Ripley in her Tony-winning role sang horribly. Not just “not that well”, but horribly. Her acting was top-notch, but that singing! Yikes! Her voice was being held somewhere back in her throat, her vowels were all over the place as she created diphthongs where none were to be found, and the result was that it was difficult, at times, to even understand her. Wondering how this could be a Tony-winning performance, I looked up some clips of her on YouTube and something was immediately evident: she had vocal coaches who helped her solve those problems. Evidence of bad habits was to be found in those earlier performances, but there were strategies being applied to overcome them. I can only conclude that, as the tour neared its conclusion, the quality control and vocal coaching had been abandoned. I would have liked to have seen her at her best. Still, at the end of the day, Next to Normal was a show worth seeing.
(It also reminded me of the television show The United States of Tara. There just didn't seem to be a good place to mention it above.)
Camelot at the Festival Theatre (Stratford Shakespeare Festival)
The shortest way to discuss Camelot at Stratford is to say that it’s a good production of a bad show. I know that certain people out there (and one who might actually be reading this, in particular) will disagree with me on the latter half of that statement, but the fact remains that if one really looks at the show’s structure, major difficulties become evident. Be that as it may, giving credit where credit is due, the production at Stratford is decent. The cast is the show’s saving grace, with Geraint Wyn Davies bringing a rather modern humour to the text (though his vocals sometimes seemed a bit unenergized in the lackluster music numbers he’s burdened with) and Brent Carver pretty much saving the day every time he’s on stage as Pelinore (probably the best written role in the show, period). Unfortunately, Jonathan Winsby as Lancelot seems to have a French accent that comes and goes with the tide twice daily, and Lucy Peacock is pretty much wasted in the terribly written part of Morgan le Fey, but still the production looks and sounds good and they do their best to keep things moving along. That said, they were still unable to convince me to like Camelot, the show; I still think it’s a hack job of writing. (The original production had many challenges – the first show in Toronto went until nearly one in the morning and major cuts came afterwards, and one can only wonder if at some point they should have said, “Wipe the slate clean. Let’s start from scratch.” – and Loewe didn’t even want to write the music in the first place. Hmmm.)
Next to Normal at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts (Dancap)
More than a show about a family dealing with mental health, Next to Normal is about a family dealing with each other on many levels: dealing with grief, with marriage, with parenthood and childhood, and with the struggles that come when things (and people) don’t live up to expectations. The music serves the story well, though I can’t say one leaves the theatre singing anything in particular – I couldn’t for the life of me hum anything from the show right now – and the writing keeps things moving along without feeling rushed. Though some of the … ahem … people of a certain generation around me expressed some confusion regarding some of the story, I didn’t find it that difficult to follow (and neither did my theatre-viewing companion, who doesn’t even read long books). If I have one complaint about the production, and I do, it’s that Alice Ripley in her Tony-winning role sang horribly. Not just “not that well”, but horribly. Her acting was top-notch, but that singing! Yikes! Her voice was being held somewhere back in her throat, her vowels were all over the place as she created diphthongs where none were to be found, and the result was that it was difficult, at times, to even understand her. Wondering how this could be a Tony-winning performance, I looked up some clips of her on YouTube and something was immediately evident: she had vocal coaches who helped her solve those problems. Evidence of bad habits was to be found in those earlier performances, but there were strategies being applied to overcome them. I can only conclude that, as the tour neared its conclusion, the quality control and vocal coaching had been abandoned. I would have liked to have seen her at her best. Still, at the end of the day, Next to Normal was a show worth seeing.
(It also reminded me of the television show The United States of Tara. There just didn't seem to be a good place to mention it above.)
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
The 2011 Summer Stage Review (Part II)
July was very busy theatre-wise for me. In all, I saw eleven shows, so I’ve got a lot to cover. Here’s the next installment on my way to recovering from my dreadful lapse in posting.
The Railway Children at the Roundhouse Theatre (Mirvish)
First off, let me say that the big whoop-de-doo about the real train in this production is silly. Yes, there’s a real train, but they certainly could have skipped it. They do an excellent job for most of the show using lighting and sound design (and the sound design is excellent, I assure you) to let us all believe in trains we can’t see, that to introduce the actual train a couple of times seems a bit needless. Be that as it may, on to my comments.
On the day we attended, we had an understudy for one of the three main children. She, and the actress who played the youngest sister, were quite good at playing children in that they just played characters who happened to be children and allowed the text to drive their performances. (The youngest sister certainly is written with the most fun, and is the most entertaining as a result.) The man playing the brother, however, is – to be blunt – dreadful. Unlike the others, he has tried to paste “childishness” on top of his performance, leading to an obnoxious, over-drawn caricature of children that should leave actual, living breathing children insulted. Yikes. The story suffers, at times, from too much telling and not enough showing, but the staging, based upon railroad tracks that run the length of the theatre space, is quite brilliant in its simplicity. Train platforms on either side, along with a bridge over top at one end, provide the permanent set of the production, but moving stages provide the real genius of the production. These platforms glide on and off without a sound or bump, thanks to the skilled stage hands (who, thankfully, take part in the final curtain call). Sometimes they disappear and reappear with a new arrangement of props or furniture, providing a new locale or setting, but when they are at their best, they contribute directly to the storytelling. When the children’s father is taken away from them, he hugs his wife, takes a step backwards, and then simply glides away from them, the distance between him and his family growing while they look helplessly at one another. Smashing. Another wise staging choice occurs during a scene in a train tunnel, when scrims are pulled across the stage area, alongside the tracks, creating the dark tunnel into which we, the audience seated on either side, can watch the goings on. Again, simple and effective. Is it a ragingly brilliant piece of theatre? No, it’s got its flaws in spades, but it still provided an entertaining (though very, very hot) afternoon and it was nice to watch the elements that worked work.
Moving from a mediocre script with good staging, we move to a good script with poor staging:
Titus Andronicus at the Tom Patterson Theatre (Stratford Shakespeare Festival)
I was greatly anticipating Titus Andronicus, as one of Shakespeare’s plays which I know only by reputation, its story known to me only in generalizations.
The story, while lacking the emotional colouring and layering of plot found in others of Shakespeare’s tragedies, certainly has the potential to be a relentless exercise in grief and revenge, an emotional pummeling of the audience. I left the production interested in seeing another production, or the critically-acclaimed film by Julie Taymor with Anthony Hopkins in the title role, but ultimately left the theatre dissatisfied, having been distracted by what I take to be self-indulgent direction by Darko Tresnjak.
Rather than being drawn in by the story and characters, I found myself conscious of the actors setting up a number of “pictures”, detached from character- or plot-driven motivations, and noticing several structural gimmicks in the storytelling that I can only imagine began with the phrase, “Hey, wouldn’t it be neat if…”
In the moments leading up to Lavinia’s abduction, the two brothers – Chiron and Demetrius – very disturbingly and convincingly degraded her with their actions, fondling her in the most grotesque and heartless of ways, foretelling of the rape and maiming she will receive at their hands and then … and then they picked her up in a very artful and “stagey” way, tossing her over a shoulder and, in the most absurd moment of the scene, Chiron suddenly crouched down, making way for her to reach out pleadingly to the Queen and to speak her lines without a brother in her sightlines. Quite a shift there.
Later, when she has returned with bloody stumps where her hands once were, a trail of blood streaming from her mouth to indicate her missing tongue, both her uncle and father in turn speak a multitude of poetic lines about her wretched state and their grief (a difficulty with the text, I acknowledge), but neither convincingly explain their physical distance from this poor, maimed girl they profess to love so dearly. If they do not rush to her side, trying in vain to somehow alleviate her pain, they must somehow communicate the tension that exists in that moment when they desperately WISH to rush to her side, but cannot for some reason, be it repulsion, helplessness, wrath, SOMETHING. The physical space between a father and his bloody, dismembered daughter cannot go unexplained as nothing more than “blocking”.
In perhaps the greatest example of misplaced direction, the final scene, for me, went so far off the rails as to negate any benefit of the doubt which I may have been holding in store for the director. By offering members of the theatre audience little tarts, the director invites us to join in the feast, making the viewers, in essence, characters in the play – guests at this most gruesome of feasts. If invited to participate in the feast, however, the audience cannot suddenly and inexplicably be left out of the ensuing bloodbath. We cannot be there as participants in one moment, only to be ignored in the next. The final nail in the proverbial coffin came in the director’s abysmal reworking of the play’s ending, placing the laurel wreath of authority on an audience member’s head and (ug) giving her a campy thumbs-up. Ridiculous and inappropriate.
(This, incidentally, is the short list of complaints about the direction in this piece. Yikes.)
Wishful Drinking at the Royal Alexandra Theatre (Mirvish)
I’ll keep this short. Wishful Drinking is Carrie Fisher’s autobiographical one-woman stage show.
It’s exactly what one expects: an evening with Carrie Fisher as she tells stories about her childhood, her parents (and their many marriages and romances, not necessarily with one another), her experiences with George Lucas and Princess Leia, her dark days of drugs and alcohol, and living with bipolar disorder. It’s candid, funny, and enjoyable. There were a few segments that seemed to move a little slowly, but still, it was fun to hear from the proverbial horse’s mouth some of the stories we’ve heard through the media. It’s worth it for “Hollywood Inbreeding 101” alone.
The Railway Children at the Roundhouse Theatre (Mirvish)
First off, let me say that the big whoop-de-doo about the real train in this production is silly. Yes, there’s a real train, but they certainly could have skipped it. They do an excellent job for most of the show using lighting and sound design (and the sound design is excellent, I assure you) to let us all believe in trains we can’t see, that to introduce the actual train a couple of times seems a bit needless. Be that as it may, on to my comments.
On the day we attended, we had an understudy for one of the three main children. She, and the actress who played the youngest sister, were quite good at playing children in that they just played characters who happened to be children and allowed the text to drive their performances. (The youngest sister certainly is written with the most fun, and is the most entertaining as a result.) The man playing the brother, however, is – to be blunt – dreadful. Unlike the others, he has tried to paste “childishness” on top of his performance, leading to an obnoxious, over-drawn caricature of children that should leave actual, living breathing children insulted. Yikes. The story suffers, at times, from too much telling and not enough showing, but the staging, based upon railroad tracks that run the length of the theatre space, is quite brilliant in its simplicity. Train platforms on either side, along with a bridge over top at one end, provide the permanent set of the production, but moving stages provide the real genius of the production. These platforms glide on and off without a sound or bump, thanks to the skilled stage hands (who, thankfully, take part in the final curtain call). Sometimes they disappear and reappear with a new arrangement of props or furniture, providing a new locale or setting, but when they are at their best, they contribute directly to the storytelling. When the children’s father is taken away from them, he hugs his wife, takes a step backwards, and then simply glides away from them, the distance between him and his family growing while they look helplessly at one another. Smashing. Another wise staging choice occurs during a scene in a train tunnel, when scrims are pulled across the stage area, alongside the tracks, creating the dark tunnel into which we, the audience seated on either side, can watch the goings on. Again, simple and effective. Is it a ragingly brilliant piece of theatre? No, it’s got its flaws in spades, but it still provided an entertaining (though very, very hot) afternoon and it was nice to watch the elements that worked work.
Moving from a mediocre script with good staging, we move to a good script with poor staging:
Titus Andronicus at the Tom Patterson Theatre (Stratford Shakespeare Festival)
I was greatly anticipating Titus Andronicus, as one of Shakespeare’s plays which I know only by reputation, its story known to me only in generalizations.
The story, while lacking the emotional colouring and layering of plot found in others of Shakespeare’s tragedies, certainly has the potential to be a relentless exercise in grief and revenge, an emotional pummeling of the audience. I left the production interested in seeing another production, or the critically-acclaimed film by Julie Taymor with Anthony Hopkins in the title role, but ultimately left the theatre dissatisfied, having been distracted by what I take to be self-indulgent direction by Darko Tresnjak.
Rather than being drawn in by the story and characters, I found myself conscious of the actors setting up a number of “pictures”, detached from character- or plot-driven motivations, and noticing several structural gimmicks in the storytelling that I can only imagine began with the phrase, “Hey, wouldn’t it be neat if…”
In the moments leading up to Lavinia’s abduction, the two brothers – Chiron and Demetrius – very disturbingly and convincingly degraded her with their actions, fondling her in the most grotesque and heartless of ways, foretelling of the rape and maiming she will receive at their hands and then … and then they picked her up in a very artful and “stagey” way, tossing her over a shoulder and, in the most absurd moment of the scene, Chiron suddenly crouched down, making way for her to reach out pleadingly to the Queen and to speak her lines without a brother in her sightlines. Quite a shift there.
Later, when she has returned with bloody stumps where her hands once were, a trail of blood streaming from her mouth to indicate her missing tongue, both her uncle and father in turn speak a multitude of poetic lines about her wretched state and their grief (a difficulty with the text, I acknowledge), but neither convincingly explain their physical distance from this poor, maimed girl they profess to love so dearly. If they do not rush to her side, trying in vain to somehow alleviate her pain, they must somehow communicate the tension that exists in that moment when they desperately WISH to rush to her side, but cannot for some reason, be it repulsion, helplessness, wrath, SOMETHING. The physical space between a father and his bloody, dismembered daughter cannot go unexplained as nothing more than “blocking”.
In perhaps the greatest example of misplaced direction, the final scene, for me, went so far off the rails as to negate any benefit of the doubt which I may have been holding in store for the director. By offering members of the theatre audience little tarts, the director invites us to join in the feast, making the viewers, in essence, characters in the play – guests at this most gruesome of feasts. If invited to participate in the feast, however, the audience cannot suddenly and inexplicably be left out of the ensuing bloodbath. We cannot be there as participants in one moment, only to be ignored in the next. The final nail in the proverbial coffin came in the director’s abysmal reworking of the play’s ending, placing the laurel wreath of authority on an audience member’s head and (ug) giving her a campy thumbs-up. Ridiculous and inappropriate.
(This, incidentally, is the short list of complaints about the direction in this piece. Yikes.)
Wishful Drinking at the Royal Alexandra Theatre (Mirvish)
I’ll keep this short. Wishful Drinking is Carrie Fisher’s autobiographical one-woman stage show.
It’s exactly what one expects: an evening with Carrie Fisher as she tells stories about her childhood, her parents (and their many marriages and romances, not necessarily with one another), her experiences with George Lucas and Princess Leia, her dark days of drugs and alcohol, and living with bipolar disorder. It’s candid, funny, and enjoyable. There were a few segments that seemed to move a little slowly, but still, it was fun to hear from the proverbial horse’s mouth some of the stories we’ve heard through the media. It’s worth it for “Hollywood Inbreeding 101” alone.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
The 2011 Summer Stage Review (Part I)
That's right. There's a third feature this year in The Summer Stage Review. Basically, it's turned into a summer of much theatre viewing, so I figured I'd toss this into the mix to keep Sonya happy.
I'm no review writer, so I'll just drop a few thoughts and comments about the live shows I see between July 1 and Labour Day, and there will be a few. Already, I've several shows to comment upon and we're only a week in. Here we go.
9 to 5: The Musical at the Toronto Centre for the Performing Arts (Dancap)
They've taken the movie from the 80s and developed it into a musical with music by Dolly Parton and featuring Ms. Parton in a video-recorded narrative role to bookend the show.
In a nutshell, three women working under an absolute chauvenist end up working together to take revenge upon him for his abuses and to take charge of the company where they work. Is this high art? No. Does it pretend to be high art? No. Is it good fun? Absolutely!
Two things stood out for me.
One: Dolly Parton truly is a skilled songwriter.
Two: Diana Degarmo, runner up in season somethingorother of Americal Idol does a decent impersonation of Dolly.
The Admirable Chrichton at the Shaw Festival Theatre
I wasn’t familiar with this play of J.M. Barrie’s so I was intrigued to see it.
The play plays with the notion of classes and their “natural order”. Crichton, a butler to end all butlers, is mortified by his master’s monthly tea parties in which servants mingle with the aristocracy to prove that they are all equal. Each in its place is his preference. When the family, along with Chrichton and one other servant, are marooned on a desert aisle, the natural order shifts dramatically, as the servants are the only ones equipped for survival. Upon a return to England some years later, the question becomes whether things can be as they once were.
The show is still in previews and suffered, at times, from some pacing issues as energy and momentum waxed and waned a bit. Lighting was also a bit erratic, particularly during the second and third acts. Overall, though, it was an enjoyable performance. Of particular note was the use of a narrative structure which, I’m quite certain, was developed specifically for this production. Anthropomorphized animal narrators contribute to the storytelling using (I’m quite certain), stage directions – the wit and detail of stage directions is something for which Barrie is known – and documented comments he had made about the performance. Unlike Stratford’s narrator-based structure for Peter Pan last year, which for me conflicted with the intent of the original and continually caused me to withdraw from the play’s action, this use of narration brought new energy and helped to keep momentum going, and further acted to highlight the play’s core in social commentary.
In short, while not a spectacular production, at this point approaching opening in a few days, it was solid and pleasant.
And then there was ...
The Grapes of Wrath at the Avon Theatre (Stratford Shakespeare Festival)
I went into this show feeling really pumped up, eager to learn the story – I’ve read several of Steinbeck’s novels, but not this one – and open to being moved, touched, and wrecked by the performance.
The lights dim.
The haunting sound of a saw being played with a bow fills the theatre.
The lights come up behind the scrim revealing a trio of musicians, whose melancholy melody accompanies the arrival of Tom, home on parole from prison.
And that was the moment in which I was most emotionally engaged in the performance.
That probably seems terribly sarcastic, but it’s true. Those first moments held so much promise, but the promise went unfulfilled. My greatest disappointment amidst many disappointments was the lack of connection I felt with the characters. I felt nothing and I was very much a viewer throughout, watching the action from an emotional distance and basically waiting for it to end. The characters, on the whole, seemed painted with very broad strokes, creating a “folksy” tone that kept them at an arm’s length. It was too comedic for The Grapes of Wrath, not comedic enough for an episode of the Hillbillies.
Believe me, that’s the short version of my critique.
Jesus Christ Superstar at the Avon Theatre (Stratford Shakespeare Festival)
I was told to expect good things from this production and was not disappointed.
Jesus Christ Superstar is a show which, as a vehicle, I like but don’t necessarily love. I’ve seen good productions, I’ve seen weak productions. This was certainly the strongest I’ve ever seen.
From the overture, staged to establish the tensions between Jews and Romans, to the final scenes, in which Jesus’ body suspended before a stark white cross is backdropped by scrolling text from the Gospels, I was quite gripped. Choreography was inventive, but not intrusive. Vocals from the entire cast were strong (though Paul Nolan as Jesus seemed to be a bit strained at times), and the set was versatile yet deceptively simple.
Most importantly, however, was the clarity of the story. Judas’ struggles with conflicting emotions about Jesus and his celebrity come to the forefront. He betrays his friend because he cannot fathom, or even envision, the scope of Jesus’ mission. The ending, often controversial for its lack of a resurrection, allows for interpretation without seeming contrived or like a safe “out”.
Incidentally, a friend of mine is in his first season at the Festival, and plays Simon Zealots in this production. Needless to say, he’s thrilled to have his Stratford premier in a show getting the sort of “buzz” that JCS is getting. He also does a darned good job.
Richard III at the Tom Patterson Theatre (Stratford Theatre Festival)
I often enjoy going to see plays by Shakespeare with which I'm unfamiliar, as it allows me to judge the production based on its storytelling, not any prior knowledge I have to "fill in the blanks". Going into Richard III, I was doubly intrigued to see whether I believed their casting of a woman -- Seana McKenna -- in the title role would transcend "stunt casting".
I was utterly impressed with the production as a whole and complete sold on her right to play the part.
The story of Richard III and his bloody quest for power was simply and effectively staged on the thrust of the Tom Patterson theatre, with minimal set and strong lighting design, and Seana McKenna played the role without a hint of self-consciousness about the cross-gender casting. She became Richard and brought a wry humour to the part which made us think, "You're horrible, I hate you ... but I can't wait to see what you do next." She was well-supported by a strong cast and, most importantly, the story was clear and engaging.
Excellent!
I'm no review writer, so I'll just drop a few thoughts and comments about the live shows I see between July 1 and Labour Day, and there will be a few. Already, I've several shows to comment upon and we're only a week in. Here we go.
9 to 5: The Musical at the Toronto Centre for the Performing Arts (Dancap)
They've taken the movie from the 80s and developed it into a musical with music by Dolly Parton and featuring Ms. Parton in a video-recorded narrative role to bookend the show.
In a nutshell, three women working under an absolute chauvenist end up working together to take revenge upon him for his abuses and to take charge of the company where they work. Is this high art? No. Does it pretend to be high art? No. Is it good fun? Absolutely!
Two things stood out for me.
One: Dolly Parton truly is a skilled songwriter.
Two: Diana Degarmo, runner up in season somethingorother of Americal Idol does a decent impersonation of Dolly.
The Admirable Chrichton at the Shaw Festival Theatre
I wasn’t familiar with this play of J.M. Barrie’s so I was intrigued to see it.
The play plays with the notion of classes and their “natural order”. Crichton, a butler to end all butlers, is mortified by his master’s monthly tea parties in which servants mingle with the aristocracy to prove that they are all equal. Each in its place is his preference. When the family, along with Chrichton and one other servant, are marooned on a desert aisle, the natural order shifts dramatically, as the servants are the only ones equipped for survival. Upon a return to England some years later, the question becomes whether things can be as they once were.
The show is still in previews and suffered, at times, from some pacing issues as energy and momentum waxed and waned a bit. Lighting was also a bit erratic, particularly during the second and third acts. Overall, though, it was an enjoyable performance. Of particular note was the use of a narrative structure which, I’m quite certain, was developed specifically for this production. Anthropomorphized animal narrators contribute to the storytelling using (I’m quite certain), stage directions – the wit and detail of stage directions is something for which Barrie is known – and documented comments he had made about the performance. Unlike Stratford’s narrator-based structure for Peter Pan last year, which for me conflicted with the intent of the original and continually caused me to withdraw from the play’s action, this use of narration brought new energy and helped to keep momentum going, and further acted to highlight the play’s core in social commentary.
In short, while not a spectacular production, at this point approaching opening in a few days, it was solid and pleasant.
And then there was ...
The Grapes of Wrath at the Avon Theatre (Stratford Shakespeare Festival)
I went into this show feeling really pumped up, eager to learn the story – I’ve read several of Steinbeck’s novels, but not this one – and open to being moved, touched, and wrecked by the performance.
The lights dim.
The haunting sound of a saw being played with a bow fills the theatre.
The lights come up behind the scrim revealing a trio of musicians, whose melancholy melody accompanies the arrival of Tom, home on parole from prison.
And that was the moment in which I was most emotionally engaged in the performance.
That probably seems terribly sarcastic, but it’s true. Those first moments held so much promise, but the promise went unfulfilled. My greatest disappointment amidst many disappointments was the lack of connection I felt with the characters. I felt nothing and I was very much a viewer throughout, watching the action from an emotional distance and basically waiting for it to end. The characters, on the whole, seemed painted with very broad strokes, creating a “folksy” tone that kept them at an arm’s length. It was too comedic for The Grapes of Wrath, not comedic enough for an episode of the Hillbillies.
Believe me, that’s the short version of my critique.
Jesus Christ Superstar at the Avon Theatre (Stratford Shakespeare Festival)
I was told to expect good things from this production and was not disappointed.
Jesus Christ Superstar is a show which, as a vehicle, I like but don’t necessarily love. I’ve seen good productions, I’ve seen weak productions. This was certainly the strongest I’ve ever seen.
From the overture, staged to establish the tensions between Jews and Romans, to the final scenes, in which Jesus’ body suspended before a stark white cross is backdropped by scrolling text from the Gospels, I was quite gripped. Choreography was inventive, but not intrusive. Vocals from the entire cast were strong (though Paul Nolan as Jesus seemed to be a bit strained at times), and the set was versatile yet deceptively simple.
Most importantly, however, was the clarity of the story. Judas’ struggles with conflicting emotions about Jesus and his celebrity come to the forefront. He betrays his friend because he cannot fathom, or even envision, the scope of Jesus’ mission. The ending, often controversial for its lack of a resurrection, allows for interpretation without seeming contrived or like a safe “out”.
Incidentally, a friend of mine is in his first season at the Festival, and plays Simon Zealots in this production. Needless to say, he’s thrilled to have his Stratford premier in a show getting the sort of “buzz” that JCS is getting. He also does a darned good job.
Richard III at the Tom Patterson Theatre (Stratford Theatre Festival)
I often enjoy going to see plays by Shakespeare with which I'm unfamiliar, as it allows me to judge the production based on its storytelling, not any prior knowledge I have to "fill in the blanks". Going into Richard III, I was doubly intrigued to see whether I believed their casting of a woman -- Seana McKenna -- in the title role would transcend "stunt casting".
I was utterly impressed with the production as a whole and complete sold on her right to play the part.
The story of Richard III and his bloody quest for power was simply and effectively staged on the thrust of the Tom Patterson theatre, with minimal set and strong lighting design, and Seana McKenna played the role without a hint of self-consciousness about the cross-gender casting. She became Richard and brought a wry humour to the part which made us think, "You're horrible, I hate you ... but I can't wait to see what you do next." She was well-supported by a strong cast and, most importantly, the story was clear and engaging.
Excellent!
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Unrelated Items
In a pleasant week of theatre going (which helped to reduce the likelihood of "post show blues" settling in), I was off last night to see Seussical: The Musical in Hamilton. What a great, fun production! The cast is strong, the design of the show is brilliant, and it was a great romp all around. Even the unexpected guest appearance by the fire curtain couldn't detract from the fun! If you're anywhere near Hamilton and want a fun night out (with the kids or without), I'd certainly recommend Seussical. [And so does this reviewer.]
***
On an unrelated note, know what bugs me? "Plump, juicy raisins." I remember even as a youngster being annoyed by Post Cereal's commercials, which promised "plump, juicy raisins".
Listen here, and listen closely: If I wanted plump and juicy, I'd eat grapes.
That's right. Grapes.
Because that's what grapes are: plump and juicy. What do you get when you take the plump and the juicy out of grapes? You've got it! Raisins. If you say you've got plump, juicy raisins, it's like you're saying you've done a shoddy job of making raisins out of grapes.
"Yeah, we just didn't bother completing the raisinification of the grapes. We figured we could save a couple of hours by leaving them plump and juicy."
Next thing you know, they'll be advertising for soft, moist toast.
***
On an unrelated note, know what bugs me? "Plump, juicy raisins." I remember even as a youngster being annoyed by Post Cereal's commercials, which promised "plump, juicy raisins".
Listen here, and listen closely: If I wanted plump and juicy, I'd eat grapes.
That's right. Grapes.
Because that's what grapes are: plump and juicy. What do you get when you take the plump and the juicy out of grapes? You've got it! Raisins. If you say you've got plump, juicy raisins, it's like you're saying you've done a shoddy job of making raisins out of grapes.
"Yeah, we just didn't bother completing the raisinification of the grapes. We figured we could save a couple of hours by leaving them plump and juicy."
Next thing you know, they'll be advertising for soft, moist toast.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
City on Fire
At long last, I was off to see Sweeney Todd on stage in Toronto.
Oh my amazing.
It's the National Tour of the Broadway production, which is innovative, to say the least. The most obvious step outside of the norm is that the actors are also the musicians on stage. Sometimes they sat on either side of the set (which is brilliantly simple in itself), flanking the action, but most of the time the instruments became part of their characters within the action. Wow.
Seated next to me was a group of women who seemed to be on a "ladies' night out" and I'm not sure they were quite prepared for Sweeney. At the end, they were trying to find a way to consider it a happy ending, and one was not very amused when I said, "Oh, oh. They're looking for a happy ending at Sweeney Todd."
I'm now looking forward to the movie which comes out ater this month, of course. It will be radically different from the production I just saw, but the show and music itself is strong to begin with, and with Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, and Tim Burton all involved ... well ... me likey the prospects.
Now, if only I could convince someone around here to mount the show so I could play the Demon Barber of Fleet Street...
Edited to add: Why would someone do this? Do they know what Sweeney's all about?
Oh my amazing.
It's the National Tour of the Broadway production, which is innovative, to say the least. The most obvious step outside of the norm is that the actors are also the musicians on stage. Sometimes they sat on either side of the set (which is brilliantly simple in itself), flanking the action, but most of the time the instruments became part of their characters within the action. Wow.
Seated next to me was a group of women who seemed to be on a "ladies' night out" and I'm not sure they were quite prepared for Sweeney. At the end, they were trying to find a way to consider it a happy ending, and one was not very amused when I said, "Oh, oh. They're looking for a happy ending at Sweeney Todd."
I'm now looking forward to the movie which comes out ater this month, of course. It will be radically different from the production I just saw, but the show and music itself is strong to begin with, and with Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, and Tim Burton all involved ... well ... me likey the prospects.
Now, if only I could convince someone around here to mount the show so I could play the Demon Barber of Fleet Street...
Edited to add: Why would someone do this? Do they know what Sweeney's all about?
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