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Twelve Minutes Max
XXXVI
Co-presented by The Dance Centre and Firehall Arts Centre
Curated by Tanya Marquardt and Joyce Rosario
Plank Panel with Ashleigh Dalton and Rachel Scott
Ashleigh: The only thing you can be certain about in 12 Minutes Max, an annual dance performance program, is that each piece will be kept to a twelve minute limit. The 36th edition, curated by Tanya Marquardt and Joyce Rosario, featured six short works by dance and interdisciplinary performers.
Rachel: Before this evening, I had no idea that a dance presentation like this was curated. I didn’t realize that these six pieces had been selected so specifically.
Ashleigh: I really appreciated that the curators came out and talked to the audience about the format, the purpose, and why the pieces we were about to see were chosen to be included. Marquardt described the show as a “performance dramaturgy” and put emphasis on the role of the structure in facilitating experimentation. 12 Minutes Max was designed as an outlet for emerging and established performers to take risks and test out new material and ranges.
Rachel: I loved that they were encouraging artists to explore new frontiers. For some, this risk manifested in unexpected ways. The first piece, Farewell Laminaria, was a surprisingly quiet piece by Julia Carr. I felt as if Carr’s intention was to explore her emotional connection to a work, rather than work on technical proficiency. It was lovely and subtle. Whereas a work like Hairy Lumps: An Interdimensional Allegory was crazy kinetic and wild.
Ashleigh: There were elements of risk in all of the performances, and some of those risks worked, others didn’t. Moment, created by Patricia Kim, took the form of a dance film and was the only piece that wasn’t performed live. Beautiful camera work and compelling choreography contributed to create a narrative piece where the movements of the dancers pushed the story along.
Rachel: I loved all the pieces. I’m a complete sucker for process. I love to watch an artist connect to their work and explore new directions. I also loved the moments of quiet between each performance. There was time for the audience to quietly exchange our thoughts and reactions. I felt like we were part of the process; it became very communal. When the curators spoke about performance dramaturgy, they mentioned that the involvement of the audience was the next ingredient in the processes for many of these artists. This is undoubtedly true, although I think it’s fair to say that most of the audience members were heartily supportive rather than objective. Did you have any favorite moments?
Ashleigh: For me, one of the most exciting pieces of the night was Zeph Caissie’s showcase of percussion and movement in Elements. Caissie demonstrated his mastery of rhythm and coordination as he executed his tap moves, incorporating Irish stepdancing, a percussionist, and one-armed push-ups into his work. The result was a short piece that felt chaotic and disjointed in all its elements, but can be chalked up to a work-in-progress from a talented and creative performer.
Rachel: It was very Bring in the Noise, Bring in the Funk. Using the body as a percussive instrument. It was kind of chaotic, but I didn’t feel that it was disjointed. It’d be fun to see where else he takes it. I also really loved the work PUSH, where two sisters explore their relationship to resistance and come head to head with their “good natured habits.” There created very brave and (I mean this in the best possible sense) unattractive moments. They dared not being correct or pretty. This is a key transformational moment for artists: when they stop pleasing others and start unearthing themselves. Of course, I heard one of the sisters say afterwards (I’m paraphrasing) that there are always things that could have been better. I would have loved her to say, “Yeah, I did my thing and it rocked!” No apologies. But they were great.
Ashleigh: I found that I wasn’t reacting with the rest of the audience to Hairy Lumps: An Interdimensional Allegory. Using multiple dancers, string and sound, this piece spun a metaphor that seemed to be well received by those in the Firehall Theatre. I, however, found it to be a very long twelve minutes. One of the questions I found myself facing was how to review a dance show, and an experimental one at that. What criteria does a “dance layman” use? I came to the conclusion that the only thing to do was review how the movement set the emotional tone for the action and events, and how I reacted emotionally, if at all.
The choreographed movements of Hairy Lumps lacked authenticity, and there was no presence in performance. The result was action and event that contributed to a cohesive narrative, but lacking the stimulus for emotional response that would make me ponder message or meaning.
Rachel: I can understand why you’d feel that way, but I liked it. They reminded me of bouncing little ions all reacting chaotically and randomly with each other. I loved it when they all glued together and stuck their arms up. I felt like I was seeing the inside of an atom. So I felt the lack of emotionality as well, but I found it intriguing rather than off-putting. Did you have a favorite?
Ashleigh: I felt that the strongest performance of the night was Idle, performed by Justine A. Chambers and Sylvain Senez. This piece was an excerpt of Chambers’ larger work, and I would happily pay to see a full-length show featuring this choreographer and performer. Idle, an intimate dance duet, saw connection and continuity between Chambers and Senez, even in their exploration of idleness. Movements were fresh and full, and the thematic expression compelling. This seductive piece reflected more of a traditional dance performance rather than the experimental interdisciplinary work of some of the other artists, and it did so beautifully.
Rachel: It was gorgeous and I will go with you to see the full-length version. The way that the two dancers shared their weight and moved with each other was riveting. This piece made me fall in love with contemporary dance and want to see more of Chamber’s choreography. However, to be devil’s advocate, I didn’t really see what risk there was in re-mounting a work that had already been done in 2003. The artists aren’t going somewhere that they haven’t been before. For me, it wasn’t raw enough to warrant a place in a night of boundary pushing. Breathtaking, oh yes. Risky? Maybe not. But all in all, a stunning evening of dance performance. Not stunning because it was perfect, but stunning because everyone was so present. The focus of the performers and the connection of the audience made me feel like I was part of this extraordinary artistic community. I felt like the audience was there to support this evolving artistic process, rather than to judge whether or not something was “good.” And what a joy to see process valued over perfection. And I will definitely come back for the 37th.
The Memory of Water
Directed by Gerry Mackay
Produced by Metro Theatre
Written by Shelagh Stephenson
The Memory of Water is a solid and predictable family drama about three daughters who return home to bury their mother. As if by clockwork, the skeletons emerge from the closet. Although the play addresses serious issues, it is billed as a comedy and the writing is full of opportunities for homespun humor and quirky familial moments. Reminiscent of “Three Sisters” and “Crimes of the Heart,” each sister is an archetype: the eldest is uptight and responsible, the middle sister is a stony workaholic, and the youngest is delightfully insane.
This rather charming play is made mediocre by the unfortunate choice to overplay the conflict. The middle sister Mary (Taylor Stutchbury) seems stuck in a tone of constant stridency that makes her difficult to relate to. And since the characters didn’t seem to like each other very much (until a strangely motivated conciliatory ending), I didn’t care for them much, either.
The relationships between the sisters and their men aren’t very believable. The marriage of eldest sister Teresa (Heather Cant) and Frank (Simon Best) is outright abusive. Lacking any hint of affection, their jabs at each other are malicious and petty rather than funny. Mary’s relationship with a married doctor (Lawrence Green) lacks so much chemistry that it is almost disturbing. The problem may be casting, since Green is a character actor and we need a dashing leading man to justify Mary’s attraction. The breakdown moments, where each sister comes home to the fact that her mother is dead, lack the depth to be cathartic.
Despite these faults, Cant and Karry Ransom (youngest sister Catherine) have some lovely authentic moments of connection and Ransom in particular revives the flagging humor in the play. Really, the root of the problem is Stutchbury’s flinty character, who refuses to exhibit variation or vulnerability. If she had softened, a whole world of humor and connection may have opened up between the three sisters.
In terms of direction, Gerry MacKay erred on the side of being too stagey. Everything looked fine, but the actors needed more breathing room to get messy in their living space so that they could really treat it like a home. Dwayne Campbell’s design gave them a fantastically naturalistic set to work in, but it seemed that they never really felt comfortable in the space. The play would have been better served if the actors had spent more time investigating the many layers of their relationships and less time on the stage picture.
All in all, The Memory of Water is lovely story that relies on the warmth and believability of its characters to really come alive. Unfortunately, Metro Theatre’s production only offers glimpses of familial love; the rest is lost in anger.
A Plank Panel
Michael John Unger,
Rachel Scott,
Alan Bartolic,
Brian Coffey, and Stacey Lynn Mitchell at some point in their lives have all seen Raymond Burr murder his wife while eavesdropping in on other peoples apartments.
They avert their gaze up to the 21st Floor.
M- First off, as this is the premier production of a new play by a new company, it really feels fresh. I mean that in the most positive way. It’s a relevant play about Vancouver and everything from the set to the actors is vibrant. It’s really the kind of play I enjoy going to. The play is set on the 21st Floor of an apartment building in Vancouver, and it was set in the new Pal theatre which is on the 8th Floor of an apartment building in Coal Harbour. The set consisted of nine apartments that we could look into, and behind the set, open curtains revealed Coal Harbour apartment buildings. It was the perfect setting for the play, making the environment perfect for us to watch a day in the life of Residents of the 21st Floor.
R- In the program notes, director Michele Lonsdale-Smith encourages the audience to move around the set and look into the apartments to see if they see elements in the character’s lives that they relate to. Were you able to do that?
M- Well, I actually lived in an apartment building just around the corner from the theatre space, so I was able to relate to it right away without even walking around. I knew these characters because I’ve watched them through my own window. It’s a bit of a voyeuristic society down there, although ironically it’s the people that live on your own floor that you see everyday who are the real strangers.
A- It was quite something to see the curtains drawn back in the theatre and see TV’s on in apartments in the background – it was a complete extension of what was happening on-stage. The security camera monitoring different areas in the building was really striking.
R- Yeah, it really captured the mix of public and private space.
A- It blows my mind that this is the first collaborative effort for this company. They seemed very comfortable together, as if they’ve been doing this for a long time. While there didn’t seem to be any major arc for any of the characters, it didn’t seem to matter. It was a very interesting effort. I don’t mean that to be pejorative, it’s very difficult to create really interesting work and I think they definitely achieved that.
B- I’m an actor from New York, so I’m a bit jaded and cynical. I’m not a big fan of collaborative theatre because I think it tends to dilute the story. I thought the acting was generally really polished, but for me, story without structure simply becomes an improvisational exercise. The characters were more like archetypes, which tends to push the audience away rather than bring them in. I didn’t care enough about the characters. But it was an interesting effort and I’d be curious to see how they continue on.
M — I think the impetus for the creation of this project was to take a floor in an apartment building and put the audience right there on their level for a sort of “day in the life.” When I first walked in, I regretted that it was actually a full audience because the seats weren’t on risers and the sightlines were obscured. Then I realized that that was the point. We’re not given an omniscient point of view. We don’t know everything about these characters and are never allowed to. If this play were staged in a more traditional theatre, the effect would totally change into one where we would have to see the characters more broadly. Then we wouldn’t be seeing them in the context of the confined view of an apartment floor.
R- It felt like an environmental piece in that way. When we walk in, it’s like looking at our own apartment building without the walls there. The word that kept coming up for me was “alienation;” every character was separated from each other. I really appreciated the actors’ bravery in their work, to be in a very private space publicly for the audience. We only get snapshots of their lives. Their personal story arcs are internal, and it can feel very risky to be so exposed without a fuller narrative context. I thought it was a great first effort; the production values alone blew me away. I’ll be excited to see what else they can create as they evolve and move from actor-based exercises to more overall structure.
B- Watching acting efforts like that is a very laudable thing and I commend it. However, the lack of structure weighed everything down for me. If I don’t care about the characters, I don’t care about their actions and the meaning behind them. If the Kenny character (Graem Beddoes) were stronger, then we might have cared when he hangs himself. I mean, anyone can tell a story but if there’s no point behind it why do we care to watch?
S- I think the point is that we don’t care. That Kenny kept going on about how nobody knew each other and nobody cared. He kept his door open all the time, but everyone wants to just stay isolated. Which is why “alienation” seems to be the theme of the play.
R- I wanted there to be some sort of resolution. I wanted to see all the characters come together, but they never do. They just continue on in their isolation.
A- Even in the earthquake scene. There are two movies that I enjoy – Magnolia and Grand Canyon- that have natural phenomena bring people together, but on the 21st Floor not even an earthquake can do that. You’d think that in Vancouver since everyone is waiting for the Big One that it would be a big deal, but not for these characters.
S- In Vancouver, there are lots of pockets of communities like Actors, Writers, Business Men, whatever, but in an apartment building it’s very rare to have a common sense of connection. It’s like what the character Marty (Anthony Vic) says, “Everyone wants to be left alone, people don’t want to be bothered.” That’s when it really starts to get heavy, because they’re talking about Vancouver, they’re talking about all of us. You can talk about all the issues you want – like the Craig John character (Stephen Park) does with his podcasts about homelessness, the 2010 Olympics and the housing crisis in “Soggy City,” but you get the sense that nobody is listening. Nobody cares. It is pretty bleak.
A- One of those bleak moments is shown when the Rachel Scott (Nadine Wright) character tears off her clothes and goes ballistic. I felt a little off-put. I feel if you put something like that in a production you really have to earn it. I felt assaulted in a way.
M – That was one of the few moments that didn’t really work. There were other moments of nudity that really did work like the Alex Gold character (Anna Williams) who stumbles around in a coked out stupor with her boob half hanging out of her tank top. That moment was earned because it felt real. That moment with Rachel Scott didn’t.
B- It probably came out of an actor improvisation that worked in the moment of creation. But to recreate it in the play seems contrived. But it’s a very brave thing for an actor to do.
R- I think that those moments are the result of the narrative structure not being visible to us. So we have these peak moments that don’t feel earned because we haven’t seen the rest of what’s going on. If it had just been Rachel Scott’s play, it would have felt earned, but they play was about ten people. I would have loved to have just seen three or four of those characters, but the nature of this play is to just see glimpses.
A- There was the character played by Matt Ward who flipped very acrobatically through everyone’s apartment. How did you interpret that character as part of the story?
M – I felt like it was a spirit character, but I wasn’t really thinking too much about it. His athleticism was nice to watch as sort of way of moving through time. His physicality captured some of the emotional tensions in the building. It felt more like a device to tell the story rather opposed to a character.
B- A personalisation of alienation perhaps? His athleticism was fantastic, and fun to watch mainly because I can’t do it. But then I’m old and fat.
R- So Michael, are you going to go home and knock on all your neighbours’ doors and hang out with them now?
M – Well we already do that. We have a very intimate relationship with all our neighbours, it’s kind of a big swinger party. You guys wanna come over?
(Various nervous chuckles that turns to awkward silence and a hasty exit.)
Touchstone Theatre
Performance Works
November 6-15
Directed by Katrina Dunn
Bravo. Touchstone Theatre’s world premiere of Influence demonstrates phenomenal ensemble work. All elements of the production – writing, acting, direction, and design – come together to create a show that is expansive, witty, intelligent, and moving.
The foundation for the play’s success is Janet Mursil’s sharp and resplendent writing. The play is set in the British Museum during the early days of the Industrial Revolution, a time in which the Empire has been appropriating art from abroad and displaying it at home. In the showcase room for the Elgin Marbles (Parthenon remains), the earnest young poet John Yeats and his blustery mentor Benjamin Hayden unexpectedly meet three disguised Grecian gods. The playfulness of the conceit (gods manifesting to mortals) quickly gives way to an exploration of deeper themes of artistic appropriation, inspiration/influence, technology, and immortality.
Mursil’s characters all contain elements of divinity and humanity; the gods can be petty, the mortals can be inspired. The characters switch quickly between these extremes and the strength of the cast is evident in their ability to easily negotiate these rapid tonal changes. Donald Adams (Hephaestus), Daniel Arnold (John Keats), Mike Stack (Benjamin Robert Hayden), Colleen Wheeler (Athena), and Frank Zotter (Apollo) are all to be commended for their technical skill and emotional depth. Without their humanity and humor, the show might have stumbled under the weight of its own ambition.
The trap of a “smart” play is that it can become too academic and cerebral. Influence does not fall into that trap. The warmth and frailty of the characters transforms these iconic figures into accessible people. The writing contains an enormous amount of humor and pathos and director Katrina Dunn takes advantage of every opportunity to make the play resonate emotionally. On the night I attended, there was a group of teenagers in the audience. If you know anything about teenagers, you know that they are a tough crowd that can smell insincerity from a mile away. They cheered wildly at the curtain call: a testament to the production’s ability to stay firmly and authentically connected to its audience.
The combination of extraordinary efforts on all production fronts has made this play more than the sum of its parts. The set (David Roberts) is a gorgeous demonstration of efficiency and grandeur. The sound design (Owen Belton) –virtually a character in itself – blurs the boundary between the mortal and immortal realms. In addition to illuminating the text, Dunn demonstrates her technical chops by staging flawlessly in the round.
A comment from a teenager after the show sums everything up perfectly: “It was like an explosion of awesomeness in my brain.” Totally.
A Plank Panel
Cyrano De Bergerac
By: Edmond Rostand
Translated and Adapted by James Fagan Tait
Arts Club Theatre Company
October 23- November 23,2008
The Plank Panel is:
Rachel Scott- Writer and general troublemaker. Nose is straight, small with a flare, and tilted slightly to the left.
Michael John Unger-Writer and performer with the sketch comedy troupe The Skinny. His nose would probably be described as medium to large, and has a tendency to bleed a lot.
Michael- One of the first things I noticed was James Fagan Tait’s translation’s use of modern English as well as the choice to have the actors speak in naturalistic voices. I knew that was going to be the case, and I think I heard a few gasps very early on when Cyrano asked why people were looking at his nose: “Is there shit on the end of it?” I enjoyed the modern language and applaud Tait for directing the actors to embrace it in their own voices. There’s nothing that will take me out of the moment more than a false accent or an actor sending up the words too much.
Rachel-Did you think the contemporary translation made the play more accessible?
Michael- I think it does because we’re thinking about the characters more than the actors delivering the characters’ lines. Tait did occasionally throw in some of his own jokes, which added a fresh flavor that I really enjoyed. David Mackay who played Cyrano really seemed to grasp Tait’s vision with the text and I wouldn’t be surprised if he added his own words for Cyrano along the way. That being said, I don’t think that all of actors got it like Mackay. Perhaps it’s more that Mackay had freer reign to take liberties with Tait’s text, but only when it served the purpose for a joke.
Rachel- I was initially very surprised by the text. Because Cyrano is all about poetic language, I was thrown off by how casual it was. At first I didn’t like that, but the pay off was that a lot of the modern jokes worked and the play was more accessible. However, the trade off failed during Cyrano’s first poem, “je touche,” where Cyrano composes a sonnet while fighting a duel. This scene is a highlight in the show, where Cyrano reveals his literary brilliance as well as his fighting skill. The power of the scene was missed because they made it into a musical number. The fight was stagey and unbelievable; the brilliance of the language was lost. I thought that making it a musical number was as unfortunate choice.
Michael- You’re right, that scene was neither threatening nor funny and they probably wanted it to be one or the other.
Rachel- I did like Joelysa Pankanea’s music, even though I didn’t always like how it was used. My other disappointment in the text was Cyrano’s dying line, in which he is talking about what he’ll take to heaven. In the original text and most translations, he says, “my panache.” But in this translation he says, “big white plume,” which is vague. I didn’t really know what that meant, and felt kind of lost in what should be a beautiful moment. In retrospect, it probably refers to the conspicuous feather in his hat that he wears during battle (symbolizing pride and courage) and it has the double entendre of referring to his writing quill, but it just doesn’t sum everything up the way that “my panache” does. Overall I liked some of the elements that came of out of the translation, like its humor and accessibility, but I felt Tait sacrificed some poetic moments.
Michael- Maybe he should have said schnoz. It would have gotten a laugh at least. Actually, one of the strengths of this show is the use of humor. In other shows that I’ve seen of Tait’s, he’s really known how to play the humor and this was no exception. Even in the last moments of the play, Cyrano gets a final laugh by referring to Christian as “the other guy.” As a whole I really enjoyed this production, especially the character of Cyrano. For me, Cyrano is best encapsulated in the balcony scene where he helps Christian woo Roxane, who he really pines for. People who don’t know the play might know that scene, and it really captures the tragedy of Cyrano. He’s got everything but the looks, but he’s so insecure that he’s got to use a good-looking idiot to actually tell her. So after that scene, which I feel is the heart of the story, things kind of trudge along till we finally get to the conclusion of the story: Christian dies, Roxane goes into perpetually mourning over the man she thought she fell in love with, and Cyrano stubbornly doesn’t say a thing. I guess my gripe with Rostand is the dreaded Second Act blues. Ultimately I think Cyrano is a great character, but not a great play. I really wanted to have a moment where I felt Cyrano changed; he’s a very boorish character to start and we gradually begin to like because we see how much he loves Roxane. However, the change in him never comes up in the play until his last words when he acknowledges how stupid he was.
Rachel- I think that the tragedy of Cyrano is that he doesn’t change. I don’t think he ever admits to being wrong. The only time that Cyrano can soften is when he reads through the mask of another man. Even in the final scene, he can’t really admit anything to Roxane. She discovers the truth when he reads his own letter to her. He sticks so steadfastly to his ideals that he even refuses love when it’s presented to him: that’s Cyrano. Every time I see this play it’s heartbreaking because his ideals and stubbornness cause so much suffering. But that stubbornness is also what makes him so lovable and noble. It’s his tragic flaw.
Michael- I will credit the play for having two lovable characters both vying for the love of Roxane. Usually one of the characters turns out to be a villain, but there really isn’t one in this play. Cyrano is really is his own antagonist.
Rachel- The play is unique because all the characters have something noble about them. I thought Kevin McDonald did a lovely job portraying Christian as “the other guy.” He had just the right amount of earnestness and objection to the situation. When he says, “I want to be loved for who I am,” he becomes more than just a pretty face; he becomes a complete person. Same thing with de Guiche; he’s the closest thing we have to a villain and even he turns out to be a noble guy who risks death in defending Roxane and fighting with the Gascognes. Great performances all around. Melissa Poll is a lovely Roxane, but I will say that there was something about this production that made her seem more superficial than usual. Perhaps it was because she was such a prominent spectator of Cyrano’s initial scene at the theatre and she seems like an idiot for not loving him more right away.
Michael- I thought the sets were really beautiful, Robert Gardiner as the set designer did a great job of creating the setting for this play.
Rachel- Yes, it was really evocative to use a scrim that had a lot of action behind it. The set played on the themes of “masks” in the play, of what you can and can’t see in the characters.
Michael- I think overall people will be quite satisfied with this Cyrano. Aside from my few criticisms, I really enjoyed it.
Rachel- The cast was well rounded with Simon Bradbury as LeBret, and Tom Pickett as Ragueneau. Ultimately though, the show really hangs on David Mackay’s Cyrano. He did a great job making this translation come to life. He was understated, dry, and very funny. His Cyrano was earthier and less romantic than others I’ve seen, which I think is perfect for this contemporary version.
Michael- You’re right, this production really hangs on Mackay and he pulls it off admirably. He will ultimately get credit along with Tait for the success of this Arts Club Presentation.
Sir David Hare’s Stuff Happens is the dense chronicle of America’s post 9-11 decision to invade Iraq. Running concurrent with the US elections, the production offers a well-timed and potent examination of the American identity during Bush’s hawkish and flawed presidency. Stuff Happens is a three-hour beast of a play that includes testimony (some verbatim, some imagined) from the major political players throughout this era.
Hare is a master playwright and his genius in this play lies in the structure. His coherent narrative creates a comprehensive chain of events out of the post 9-11 chaos. In the hands of less skilled actors, this play would flounder under the weight and complexity of the text. However, the experience and skill of this cast is more than up to the challenge and they are able –in large – to bring the political scene to life in way that is both personal and accessible. The performances are solid. Kevin Loring is probably the greenest of the bunch, but we see his passion and skill in his performance as the Palestinian Academic. And it’s hard not to seem a little green when surrounded by heavyweights such as William Taylor (Colin Powell) and David Adams (Paul Wolfowitz), whose vocal skill and presence more than match the giants they play. Glen Cairns as George Bush is a charismatic blend of aggressive, naive, and pious. Michael Grant Elliot’s sympathetic performance as the hapless and devoted Tony Blair reveals the hazards of being an American ally during this time. The only major performance flaw is the bizarre execution of the French dialect, which seems to be butchered and overdone almost across the board (Kevin McNulty excepted).
Condoleeza Rice (Catherine Haggquist) and Dick Cheney (Kevin McNulty) are brilliantly underwritten in the script. Their conspicuous silence is a potent reflection of their quiet public presence; although both (especially Cheney) are powerful architects in the Bush administration, they seem to operate behind the scenes and reveal little of themselves to the media. Cheney’s silence tellingly breaks when he advises Bush to abandon Britain and invade Iraq without a second UN resolution. This disastrous betrayal of Tony Blair is portrayed bitingly and perfectly by Kevin McNulty. Haggquist and McNulty, despite relatively few words, capture the essence of these reclusive and mysterious Bush operatives.
Although the play is an ensemble piece, the narrative burden often falls to Colin Powell. Perhaps Hare uses Powell because he is the most sympathetic member of the administration who clearly represents the “every man” perspective. Taylor’s deeply felt performance reveals his struggle as he is caught between his conscience and his leader.
Hare’s inclusion of global players highlights the complexities of this issue on the world stage. Hare focuses on the French and British perspective, but also includes the opinions of a Palestinian academic, an Iraqi exile, Kofi Annan, and Hans Blix, to name a few. Because the cast is talented, none of these smaller parts is wasted; the inclusion of these characters illuminates world opinion and keeps the action moving.
Donna Spencer’s precise direction is clean, efficient, and fast-paced. She uses Craig Alfredson’s set design to its fullest, moving the action crisply from one area to the next with maximum efficiency. Rolling chairs and a table instantly create boardrooms and offices. When the audience first enters the space, three hanging projection screens (designed by Alfredson, programmed by James Foy) revolve through television news coverage. Throughout the course of the play, the projections carry news flashes, woodlands, British streets, the White House, etc to quickly evoke a new landscape and move us around the globe. Rebekah Johnson’s lighting design is key in directing our focus. All the production elements (direction, set, lighting, projection) work together impeccably to keep the action moving and clarify the story.
Firehall Art Centre’s production of Stuff Happens is sharply executed, movingly performed, and highly relevant. The show’s herculean effort deserves a far greater audience than it had when I attended, and I am saddened that it may not get the praise that it deserves. The houses may be quiet because Stuff Happens is a challenging play, one that requires undivided attention and a willingness to revisit uncomfortable events. However, at a time when America is moving with relief into an era of change, she and her allies must never forget the damage done by an arrogant administration. The play closes on November 8th, and there’s still time to catch it while W. is in office.
Musical of Musicals: The Musical! is a hilarious must-see for all musical theatre lovers. Throughout the course of the show, our very talented cast takes us through several incarnations of the same plot – all performed in the styles of different composers. Stephen Sondheim, Andrew Lloyd Weber, and Rodgers and Hammerstein are a sampling of the genius you’ll see recreated – and lovingly mocked – on stage.
This show stands out because it is so technically demanding and so well done. The performances are fantastic, the direction tight, and the accompaniment is flawless (thanks to Sarah Jaysmith). The costumes and props give us the essence of the genres without being overdone or slowing down the action. The excellent ensemble work by Mikal Grant, Steven Greenfield, Anna Kuman, and Colleen Winton is notable here in Fringe land, which thrives on a diet of one-person shows and duets.
I should mention that I am a musical theatre lover and hold all things “jazz hands” close to my heart. If you don’t know these composers, you will miss a lot of the jokes that make this piece so exceptionally funny. But that’s no reason not to go. The joy of watching four fabulous pros do their job is reason enough.
Musical of Musicals: The Musical! was originally produced in New York City and written by Joanne Bogart and Eric Rockwell. This production was directed by Ryan Mooney, accompanied and assistant musical directed by Sarah Jaysmith, and performed by Mikal Grant, Steven Greenfield, Anna Kuman, and Colleen Winton.
After Life was a riveting one-person show about three women who live at different times during the 20th century. The success of this piece lay in Candy Simmon’s phenomenal acting and the tightness of the writing. Simmons’s performance was exceptional, not because of her abundant technical abilities (she handles dialects from Appalachia, Minnesota, and New York City with ease), but because of her profound emotional connection to the characters. The consistency of her presence, her formidable skill, and her relationship with the audience made this an outstanding piece of theatre.
Virgina Scott’s efficient direction gave Simmons ample room to work and technical elements such as era-specific sound and photos were effective in supporting the journey. The show, co-written by Simmons and Chris Van Strander, was impeccably structured with enough twists and turns to keep us on our toes.
Enthralling, funny, smart, and poignant, After Life is an aria that you don’t want to miss.
After Life was written by Candy Simmons and Chris Van Stander, directed by Virginia Scott.
Review by Rachel Scott
I roared my pants off. Come on, what isn’t inherently funny about a musical based on the supposed life and times of a medieval printing press inventor? In this hour plus show, the co-creators of “Gutenberg! The Musical!” do their earnest and enthusiastic best to pitch their musical brainchild to us through performing a staged reading, or rather, singing. Between the two of them (with the help of hats), they play all of the characters, and even some wildlife. The result is a cross between Spamalot and The Reduced Shakespeare Co. presents The Compleat Works Wllm Shkspr (abridged): improbable, irreverent, and hilarious. Originally written by Anthony King and Scott Brown of the Upright Citizens Brigade, it’s frankly pretty hard to steer this cruise ship wrong and much of the fun comes from the excellent writing. Nathan Clark and Ken Lawson (who play Doug Simon and Bud Davenport, respectively) are savvy comedians who find a touching blend of showmanship and sincerity. Their genuine and dedicated zeal for their project rounds out the slapstick humor with just enough heartwarming poignancy to be endearing. There were performance lapses in the singing: Clark had the volume, but not the tone, while Lawson had the notes, but not always the volume. I wanted more fullness in the musical numbers and there were moments where the action felt tired. However, the clever directing and choreography helped us through the gaps and the brilliance of the script immediately made any necessary rebounds. Fun, fun, very good fun.
Gutenberg! The Musical! was originally produced by Trevor Brown at Jermyn Street Theatre, London. Written by Anthony King and Scott Brown, Original Musical Direction and Arrangements by T.O. Sterrett. Vancouver Fringe production directed by Brian Anderson, choreographed by Patrick Lambier, with Musical Direction by Ken Lawson. Performed by Nathan Clark, Ken Lawson, and Matt Grinke (band).
Memory Machine: bizarre and courageous.
From the moment I walked into the theatre, I was fascinated. One of the lead actors was already onstage, strapped to a vertical bed, and lolling white-faced and open-mouthed to the sound of deep, interrupted breathing. Disturbed and weirdly captivated by the scene, I was curious about how this story would unfold.
As the piece moved forward, creators Saha Sajadieh and Parjad Sharifi continued to create a compelling creepy and sensual world. But although there were some gorgeous and disturbing moments, they were the lack of narrative structure created too much confusion to give these moments relevance. The piece was too over-thought and self-conscious, lacking the action and momentum I needed to connect with the story.
overwhelmed by the confusion.
The languor of the pace frequently caused the tension to fall apart and the momentum to stop. A few more anchors in reality would have helped me to stay invested in what was happening. As it was, the show was an occasionally compelling experiment that never coalesced into anything graspable. I absolutely loved their daring, but wanted more cohesion.
Memory Machine was produced by Silen Marottes. Written, directed, designed and performed by Sahar Sajadieh and Parjad Sharifi.
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