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| REVIEWS |
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The two detectives who have brought him into a police interrogation room believing that he was involved in a gangland fracas which has taken place outside in an alley, are like 1940's television gumshoes. Vincent, played with a swagger and a New Jersey accent by David Ferry, has more smarts than his nerdish partner, Eddy (Paul Braunstein), though neither would win a trophy for acute police work. While both seem more interested in the disappearance of someone named Jimmy Nicknames who was involved in the alley fight and who may or may not be working undercover, it doesn't stop them from badgering Godot. "What do you do, Mr. Godot? asks one. "I'm a farmer," answers Godot cryptically. Ah hah, you think. Here comes the reason for Godot's other worldly aura. No such luck. The dialogue, which lends itself to satire, is augmented by director Richard Rose's heavy handed inclusion of farce which finds characters doing prat falls and whirling and out of doorways. All that's missing are the sound effects. At one point one of the performers loses his pants to reveal his underwear decorated with the stars and stripes. Another time, two other characters who show up amid a flurry of activity midway through the two hour (with intermission) production, turn out to be the Groucho and Harpo Marx of the Domestic Terrorism Unit. Rocko, as disgraced cop, (Tony Nappo) and the cross-dresser Linus (Geoffrey Pounsett) begin to suspect that there's more to Godot than someone who just got caught up in a neighborhood brawl. Indeed, Godot, who has become a little more serious in the latter part of the play by divulging his apprehension about a "package" he's left in the alley, begins to look more and more like the brother from another planet. Dressed like a funeral director in his neat black suit and bowler hat, Nashman's Godot is so unprepossessing you begin to feel that if he is a divine being, he's been asleep at the switch. When he says of his package, "I've lost it so many times," you want to shout, "wake up!". If Beckett's Godot was to be chastised for not keeping faith with his flock, Gall's Godot is right at the centre of the action, the fire and brimstone of the modern world - in fact at one point there is an explosion outside the interrogation room, mindful of the swift and lethal blow of 9/11. That this Godot is at the heart of this small bit of humanity that exemplifies the lowest denominator of 21st century man and keeps on losing "the package" doesn't say much for him. Whether Gall wanted to make a point, some point, any point with his mystery man, is as elusive as Godot's package. Alias Godot plays at the Tarragon Theatre until June 1. 30 Bridgman Ave. Box office: 416-531-1827. www.tarragontheatre.com/
Under Albert Schultz's direction, the production doesn't begin with as much exuberance as you might expect, though a lackluster opening segues into some livelier scenes. An overbearing Duke Frederick who has usurped the throne from his banished brother, holds court with a star turn wrestling match between the court's favorite wrestler, Charles, played by Stephen Guy-McGrath, and an unknown but confident opponent named Orlando (Michael Blake). The match has been secretly arranged by Orlando's older brother, Oliver, whose jealousy of his younger brother stems from their father's favoritism toward Orlando in love and money. In a more contemporary setting, Oliver's sentiments would be understandable, but in Shakespeare's territory, revenge is a given and Orlando's victory is another slap in the face for Oliver, played as a no holds barred villain by Mike Ross. Orlando, however, has other things on his mind besides sibling politics. Shakespeare's young lovers rarely take much time to fall in love and As You Like It is no exception. When Orlando and the Duke's willowy niece Rosalind (Sarah Wilson) catch each other's eye, there's no doubt that a full blown romance will follow. Rosalind, whose father is the banished Duke Senior, also finds herself inexplicably banished by Duke Frederick. Accompanied by her best friend, the Duke's feisty daughter Celia (Jennifer Villaverde), Rosalind and Celia will soon be followed by Orlando into one of Shakespeare's favorite locales for budding romances and philosophical ruminations, the Forest of Arden, Rosalind disguised as a male, and Celia as her peasant maid. As You Like It presents us with some conundrums, one of which is its panoply of confusing relationships, brothers, nieces, daughters, sons, not only in the city but in the Forest of Arden as well where the banished Duke's party and other miscellaneous drop-ins contribute to the main event: Rosalind's reunion with her father, Duke Senior, and her romance with Orlando. There's lesser effort to accept the play's suspended rationale which asks us to believe that brotherly love can be reinstated with a good deed (Oliver who has followed Orlando into the forest is saved from a lion's jaws by his brother), and the usurping Duke Frederick will meet a holy man who will convince him to throw off all his earthly possessions and meditate for the rest of his life. That leaves the entire political field, riches and title entirely to the banished Duke Senior who has no moral compunctions about accepting them. One of the perks of life in the Forest of Arden is that miracles happen and we accept them wholeheartedly without question; The compensations are the beautiful poetry, the pulsating love affairs, and a neat happily-ever-after atmosphere which isn't hard to take either. The Soulpepper production comes gloriously alive in the Forest of Arden. In comparison to the city scenes, this forest is a refuge, animated with colorful people and the sound of music, not only with Shakespeare's poetry but a four-man band playing western style original songs (composed by Mike Ross). Hey Nonny Nonny becomes a country music song done in video style, a cross between Toby Keith and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. There is the melancholy Jacques played by Diego Matamoros, one of the several senior members of Soulpepper Theatre who have been enlisted to take on the heavier roles. With keen wit, Matamoros is a refreshingly non-moribund Jaques and even makes his All the World's a Stage speech like someone who is simply older and wiser rather than bitter. Other performances of note by Soulpepper stalwarts are William Webster's Old Adam who elicits some well earned compassion as Orlando's companion, while Oliver Dennis' rambunctious Touchstone, one of the characters who seems to have sprouted from nowhere, proves that even Shakespeare's clowns have rampant hormones. His palpable lusting after the well endowed peasant Audrey (Krystin Pellerin) is the stuff of burlesque. "Thanks God for this foulness, sluttishness may come hereafter, " he exalts as he dances offstage. The surprise of the evening was Sarah Wilson's turn around from a pallid Rosalind in the early court scenes to an intelligent and buoyant reading of the lovesick Rosalind whose game playing in disguise as the boy Gannymede with an unsuspecting Orlando who is clearly attracted to him, is delightful. The most you can say about Lorenzo Savoini's stage set of painted flats and hanging ropes meant to resemble trees in the forest, was that they were functional, though his costumes, circa 1910, were better looking, and in the second act, rustic enough to be part of the western atmosphere that director Schultz only touched upon. While the music was the hoe down variety in several spots - the production ended with a square dance in the forest - Schultz seemed to shy away from turning As You Like It into a real spaghetti western. Considering you have a cruel Duke who might have ruled supreme in a frontier town, it wouldn't have been an unlikely scenario - and it probably would have been a lot more fun. As You Like It plays at the Young Theatre for the Performing Arts until April 29. Distillery District. 55 Mill St. Building 49. 416.866.8666.
Walker's Beyond Mozambique falls neatly into that category, and the current production by the Factory Theatre, which introduced Walker in 1972 to its then youngish audiences, premiered Beyond Mozambique when it moved out of its funky, carved out theatre space on top of a garage on Toronto's Dupont St. Beyond Mozambique, as director Ken Gass' production shows, is ageless. Absurdist theatre, at its best, doesn't grow old. Theatre out of tune with reality and featuring characters caught in hopeless situations and doing meaningless things just to stay afloat, seem to serve every generation well. Like lemmings on a hill, a zany, off kilter group of human beings have fled to a remote cabin somewhere, well, beyond you know what, clutching to the last remnants of a civilization they're retreating from, repeating and repeating what they think will anchor them to something recognizable and secure, and not always doing it well. It's especially true of Sarah Orenstein's Olga, dressed in the prim white garb of a Chekhhovian country wife and who in fact thinks she is the Olga of Chekhov's The Three Sisters. Orenstein emphasizes the nervous fluttering of Olga, as she prepares the tea, all the while chattering about not much at all. Her imposing husband Rocco - Oliver Becker's commanding presence never let you think otherwise - is a doctor who has had dubious connections with the Nazi element and thinks little of murdering someone to provide practice material for his experiments. He's aided and abetted by his ghoulish houseboy, Tomas (Dimitry Chepovetsky). Limbs fly through the air and human hands pop up. The play begins with the search for a corpse who has a missing foot, and an ex-porn queen (Tara Nicodemo) with a penchant for mercenary work finds the head of the local priest nearby, killed ostensibly by an African uprising in nearby villages. The replacement priest played by Joe Cobden, who has an air of gentility is no better than the others. He may abhor violence but his penchant for lean young men and choice drugs doesn't put him on the A list either. And then there's true Canadian content with an ex-mountie (Richard Zeppieri) who may still have the brass buttons on his uniform polished, but has escaped to this God forsaken outpost after being disgraced back home. With his lust for young girls put aside for the moment, he begins a search for the priest's killer. On a set that looks as if it were taken from a B-movie (as the play Beyond Mozambique often does) designed by Shawn Kerwin, and Kimberly Purtell's melodramatic lighting, Beyond Mozambique still seems a bit low key compared to the 1974 production. Time seems to do that. When Olga is killed at the end of the 90-minute drama, her husband holding her up like a dummy on his lap and speaking for her is more creepy than outlandish. A touch of the musical Chicago without the humor. Here Olga comes as close to her Chekhovian counterpart as she ever will be. She'll never get to Moscow. My favorite contemporary inclusion was a soldier dressed like the intruding Captain Benjamin Willard in the film Apocalypse Now, giving a thumbs approval of his mission. But Beyond Mozambique ends there, sparing us any further parallels in this absurdist jungle. The production celebrates a long history between George F. Walker and Ken Gass' Factory Theatre which not only produced Walker's first play The Prince of Naples in 1972, but premiered subsequent others over the last 36 years. What better company to revisit Walker's dark comedy and introduce it to a brand new audience. Beyond Mozambique plays at the Factory Theatre until May 4. 125 Bathurst St. (at Adelaide). 416-504-9971.
When Cranked packs its bags and wends its way to New Brunswick and points east, a show called Dead Ahead (see Previews;A review of the show follows next week.) by Toronto's Topological Theatre will have already moved onto the Nathan Cohen Studio stage where it plays until May 16. That show is about gangland supremacy that has deadly consequences for one of its members and is built around the popular violent video games which have inundated the video parlors and Play Stations across North America. Both shows deal with very difficult subject matters, topics that a mere decade ago would have had a hard time being played to young people on a North American stage. Times change and with them a more forceful direction for plays that deal with in your face real life and sometimes deadly issues. Cranked is a one person show written by Michael P. Northey about crystal meth addiction and how it almost destroys the career - and the life - of a 17-year- freestyle rapper, played by the enormously talented Kyle Cameron. Cameron holds the stage for 45 riveting minutes as Stan, his body twitching, tweaking, sketched out, welcoming us to the world of "the zombies, - the living dead." Once a competitive rapper who reigned as the best in town, Stan got hooked onto crystal meth which began his downward spiral into uncharted territory. Stan is a true rapper, and the show, flawlessly directed by Patrick McDonald, uses rap throughout to make its point. Evan Brenner's DJ Music/Beats supplies the hip hop with Canadian hip hop artists Kyprios and Stylust giving good background. "What is happy to me, changes my reality. I'm living with the dead; I'm living in my head, " chants Stan. He certainly isn't keyed into the reality of those around him, and as his addiction takes control, he begins stealing from the people he loves, his parents and his sister, friends, and then strangers, getting lost in a haze of hallucinations, paranoia, bizarre, aggressive and psychotic behavior. You shudder. There's no intervention to offer relief. When Stan is finally stopped by force when he crashes a car he has stolen, putting him into the hospital and then into rehab where he first hear the word "junkie" applied to him. "It cut through me like glass," he says. Eventually Stan finally starts back on the road to survival, kicking the habit, at least long enough to tell us what meth can do to your body and your brain cells. "If you put a piece of meth on a steak over night, in the morning it will have liquefied." Cranked leaves us with a more positive feeling about Stan's future but there's no easy answer for him or for the thousands of other drug addicts where hope for recovery is slim at best. Stepping out of character, Cameron informs us that 92 percent of all meth addicts who are in recovery, relapse. Preparing for the role he studied the crack and meth addicts in downtown East Vancouver, an area which is home to alcohol and drug addicts, and prostitutes, watched their body language, watched them steal from stores and from each other, even watched the 1982 trailer for the hallucinatory film The Dark Crystal on YouTube. It's a tough lesson for the audience, many of whom are teenagers but just as many mature adults, all eyes glued to Stan and his no holds barred self-condemnation. In front of Justus Hayes trompe l'oeil single set design, a large canvas square with its own
phantasmagoric images, Cameron takes us into a nether world then pulls us back into reality. It's a real trip in the best dramatic sense and another triumph for Green Thumb Theatre. Cranked plays at the Lorraine Kimsa Theatre for Young People Mainstage until May 3. 165 Front St. East. Box Office: 416 862-2222 | Schedule and online tickets: www.lktyp.ca/
When the plays opens Andrew, Cory and Tiga are right in the midst of playing Dead Ahead, bodies set to spring, play game guns in their hands.With the shattering sound effects by Lyon Smith and Chris Clifford's arresting projections, who can think straight when you're fighting a powerful rival gang for supremacy? But the rivalry in Dead Ahead is the only way that Cory, Andrew and Tiga can forget their problems at home and school and concentrate on wiping out their enemies - in a harmless video game. But is it? Cory (Eli Ham), a big guy with an abusive single father who has blackened his eye more than once, is the most rabid player of the three; Andrew (Ben Lewis) is having a hard time accepting his father's new girlfriend, as well as confessing to his video game buddies that he has supplanted them with a new best friend, Megan (Sabryn Rock); and the boyish looking Tiga (Ashton Doudelet) is so anxious to be accepted that he will do anything to be part of the triumvirate. All three are so caught up in playing the game one afternoon, that they don't hear Cory's father come home unexpectedly in the middle of the day. When his abusiveness to Cory begins once again, he is stabbed to death by one of the three boys. Dead Ahead isn't so much a whodunit as it is a play that poses a moral dilemma: if you saw a murder committed and you know who did it, is it your responsibility to report who was involved in the crime even if it means turning in your close friends? Should you cover up the crime or call the police? It becomes Andrew's own personal quandary since he has sworn to Tiga and Cory to stand behind them. An invented story and alibi have kept the police at bay. Andrew's girl friend Megan prompts him to do the right thing though the homicide has involved all of them. Roy's play drags on a little too long with more emphasis placed on Andrew and Megan trying to sort through the moral dilemma than is necessary. There's also a lingering doubt that Roy hasn't quite settled on the primary message in the play. Is it the problem of doing the right thing in reporting a crime (much script time is spent on it) or whether violence in video games may encourage a taste for violence among its players. The latter still remains a controversial subject among educators and psychologists. All four teenagers are totally immersed in the thrill of Dead Ahead. Even Megan who has taken on the nickname of Dark Angel enjoys the game though, unlike the others, the game doesn't take priority over her life. Not so with Cory and Tiga and their different agendas for proving their masculinity. Eli Ham plays Cory as a brutish, sometimes bullying individual with a fiery temper, while Tiga who doubts his own sexuality, strikes out against anyone who doubts it. Both use the game for ego building. Dead Ahead ends with a question mark. Will Andrew and Megan report the crime to the police station - or won't they? They tell each other it is the right thing to do, but it comes at a high cost. Life is cheap in Mega City, but in the real world, there are consequences. Dead Ahead is presented by Topological Theatre and The Lorraine Kimsa Theatre for Young People. It plays in the Nathan Cohen Studio at the Lorraine Kimsa Theatre for Young People until May 16. 165 Front St. E., Toronto Box Office:: 416 862-2222; Schedule and online tickets: www.lktyp.ca/
The hard working Benoit and Kathleen - he's labored in a tool and dye factory all his life, she's a cleaning woman for a wealthy family, have built their lives around their intelligent, good looking son Jean, who has proven a blessing in more ways than one. Working on an engineering degree at the École Polytechnique, Jean was on his way to being a first class student. A complicated end of term design project for a skyscraper stands onstage throughout the 95-minute play, disintegrating, as Jean does after he's witnessed the massacre of his female co-students at class on a chilly late afternoon in December. The play unfolds unconventionally. Murphy doesn't start at the beginning with the ambitious, industrious Jean so tuned in to his studies that he doesn't have time for any entertaining activities, but at the end of the story, working backwards, two years after the massacre has taken place, destroying Jean, whom we surmise has committed suicide, and Benoit and Kathleen, who are preparing for what might have been Jean's graduation day, but instead is a preamble to their own double suicide. It's a strange, downbeat beginning with no hope of gathering dramatic momentum since we've learned all that we need to know as soon at the end of the first scene. Kathleen is dressed in her shiny new green dress with matching shoes, worrying endlessly about leaving the house in spotless condition so that the neighbors won't have any reason to question her abilities as an orderly chatelaine. She even makes a phone call to her sister to make sure she drops by the house the next day, insurance that their bodies will be found before the "flies" get them. It's a gruesome thought that's probably meant to be chilling but has no real purpose and further paints Benoit and Kathleen as insensitive and not terribly bright. Since we don't meet son Jean until midway in the play when he finally appears as a distraught, deranged young man, suffering from guilt, nightmares and hallucinations of the young women screaming in his head, we have plenty of time to concentrate on the parents. Brian Dooley's gruff if loving father has a more difficult time drawing out Benoit's softer side in a man whose life has been spent disliking his job and his Anglo boss who has never upgraded the factory with air conditioning, while Nicola Lipman as Kathleen has a similar cross to bear with her Anglo employer who is similarly stingy and almost makes her "lick the toilet bowl clean." Still, it's to Lipman's credit that she succeeds in making Kathleen almost likeable. At least we understand her. As a woman whose orderliness has become her own power trip she runs the gauntlet between being downtrodden by her overbearing husband and turning into a martinet when she finds an unwashed glass. But as a mother, she tries to console Jean with some infinite home grown wisdom, the ministrations of a caring parent who tries to heal wounds that remain unfathomable to her. His actions were perfectly normal in running away, she tells him. He did call 911, he was suffering from shock, he was ordered out of the room by the killer. Neither nor Kathleen and Benoit really know how to help Jean who is systematically unraveling. He misses classes, fails grades, stares at the television without seeing, practices karate chops and kicks and wanders around in the woods, thinking. At one point the playwright hints at a budding relationship between one of the murdered girls and Jean, whom we are told, has never had a girlfriend. It's at this point in the play that one wonders whether this rationalization of Jean's decline takes away from the playwright's intent to portray the struggle of average people coping with the aftermath of such a tragedy. Under Micheline Chevrier's direction, there is so much melodrama throughout the production that it's hard to sympathize with Jean, played by Jeff Irving as either hysterical or intractable, but never average. Designer John Ferguson has supplied a living room we've all been in at some time in our lives. It's colorless but comfortable, tidy, well looked after, the living room of working class people who cherish their home. But the scenes played out here are painful, untidy and filled with stress. To that end The December Man provides an anchor for the play's theme that is engrossing, but never really believable. The December Man plays at the Berkeley St. Theatre until. May 17. 26 Berkeley Street. For tickets: 416-368-3110 or Ticketmaster 416-872-1111, online at canstage.com or in person at the Canadian Stage Customer Service Centres, 26 Berkeley Street or 27 Front St. East Photo: by Epic Photography, Ian Jackson. Brian Dooley and Nicola Lipman in The December Man.
Dirty Dancing is like being back in the '60's again. Bergstein who wasn't able to use all the pop songs from that era in the film, has been able to include them this time. While gift sellers in the lobby boutique tout everything from compacts to baby bibs, I recommend the CD of the London production which gives you all of the original motion picture songs as well as all the others others used in the stage version. The Diamonds, Eric Carmen, The Chantelles, ah!, the sweet sounds of yesterday. While the stars of the show are Britta Lazenga as Penny, a zinging dancer and good actor, with legs as long as Texas, and Monica West as the wide eyed high school activist, 'Baby' Houseman who loses her innocence to Johnny Castle played by muscular Jake Simons, it's set designer Steven Brimson Lewis who is a star of another order, responsible for making the stage version seem more like a movie than the actual movie. A curved wide screen upstage is all consuming with its rolling videos of camp life, lapping lakes and undulating trees, sometimes opening in the centre to show off the Houseman's car rolling into the Kellerman summer resort for their two weeks of holiday time, at other times Johnny Castle's car which never seems to go anywhere. The script of Dirty Dancing follows the film almost religiously. The Houseman family, Dr. Jake Houseman (Al Sapienza), his wife Marjorie (Victoria Adilman) and the two girls, the nubile, junior sex goddess Lisa (Natalie Krill), and Baby (Monica West) who hasn't earned her full name as yet (it's Francis), have finally bowed to Max Kellerman's request to spend vacation time at his resort. Kellerman's is a replica of the upscale Jewish resorts in the Catskills during the 1950's and 1960's where the the Borscht Belt comedians got their start. In Kellerman's it's wannabe comedian is Stan (played by Tyler Murree), the whoop it up resort entertainment director, whose enthusiasm generates everything from urging the guests to dance The Mashed Potato to having lectures by a visiting Rabbi on The Psychology of Insult Comedians, to organizing camp fires and singing This Land is Your Land. In between those activities - and late at night - more personal entertainment takes place. Max Kellerman, played Victor A. Young, is a businessman above all else and his separation of the classes - that is the wait staff and entertainers from the guests - is rock solid. He would like his cocky nephew, played by Dylan Trowbridge, to make some headway with the super smart Baby, a doctor's daughter. That doesn't stop the feisty Baby from wanting to mingle with the other half at their nightly get togethers where she first catches sight of Johnny Castle, a dancer from the other side of the tracks. His surliness (and Jake Simons does surly very well) and his lower status, immediately makes him forbidden, that is, desirable. Before you know it Baby is learning how to do the mambo in private lessons and in time graduates to becoming Johnny's partner when Penny Johnson becomes pregnant and with Baby's help is able to pay for an abortion. Dirty Dancing is a coming of age story that is at least refreshingly feminine and at times moving. Baby, as everyone knows, flowers into womanhood - and responsibility - when she falls in love with Johnny and begins a sexual relationship with him. Unlike the film version, this baby, a charming Monica West, seems older than the character was in the film version but allowances have to be made. In Johnny's room, a raised platform which gives the lovemaking scene a kind of bedroom intrigue Hollywood style, is not so much loss of innocence as coming to grips with your hormones. But with more applause from our youthful cheering section in the balcony, one can't argue with its impact. The best thing about Dirty Dancing is its exuberance and spirited choreography by Kate Champion. There are of course the intrigues between the older sexy woman and the ambitious waiter, the girls who are hungry for marriage to a good Jewish boy and will do anything for a commitment, the fathers of the girls who would rather keep them home bound and innocent until the right match comes along. There's nothing much that's new in the story. Baby, that is Francis, gets her guy and finally learns how to do a lift at the right spot in the Mambo, Dad is reconciled to her new maturity and even apologizes to Johnny, and the fairy tale ending comes to a rousing finale with what else,The Time of Your Life. For a lot of young women in the balcony, it really was. Dirty Dancing is directed by James Powell, and runs until Aug. 31, 2008 at The Royal Alexandra Theatre, 260 King St. West Toronto. Call TicketKing 416.872.1212 or 1.800.461.3333 to book.
There is much more to the story than first meets the eye. The play opens as Kate, a seasoned journalist has come to interview David, ostensibly, about a book she is writing about his father. David is a high powered Toronto lawyer who has just delivered the eulogy at this father's funeral. Director Jennifer Tarver has opened the play with an atmosphere that crackles with tension for the meeting between McKay and Kate; He's curt, she's nervous, and we're anxious to find out what this interview is really about. A long conference table cuts across the stage - the only set decor - around which McKay and Kate will circle and do their dance of subversion and psychological manipulation before the 'interview' is over. Filled with sharp, sometimes acrid dialogue, you think you have the story pinned down. Local journalist interviews the son of a great man who was the father of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. But Kate knows something about David's father that will shake his foundation, and her relationship with both father and son puts a further twist in the story. It turns out that both Kate and David went to Osgoode Law School and had more than a nodding acquaintance with each other, though David, who was stone drunk at the time, can't remember much about his one date with Kate. Kate, a lawyer, had also clerked for David's father in the Justice Department during her intern days. As the real reason why she's here unfolds, both performers, Ashley Wright as the abrupt, non-committal David McKay, and Sarah Dodd as the relentlessly prodding Kate, change characters and flashback to earlier scenes between Harry McKay and Janey, a newspaper reporter who has come to query him about certain activities and government cover-ups that contravene all he has championed for in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Though Wright and Dodd are supremely effective as David and Kate, their abrupt change to Harry McKay and Janey in an earlier time period isn't always clearly defined, likely because neither Wright nor Dodd aren't able to make Harry McKay and Janey much different from their present characters. Still, the scenes, particularly one between Harry McKay and Janey are powerful, despite the ring of familiarity as the sins of those in high places are visited. Drug trafficking, call girls, bribery, government cover-ups and mob involvement are there in all their flagrant, ignominious dazzle. And all of it takes place during the hammering out of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms which have the very same brilliant legal minds and true patriots abusing them at the same time. There's even a hidden portfolio entering the picture, whose contents could damage or even destroy the Charter. Nelson holds out the lure of mystery and possible murder as bedfellows in this political drama. And with all this, there's still another twist to the end of the story which should not be divulged. Nor should The Fall be missed. It's articulate, intelligent and dramatic, a gem of a play with all the right ingredients. The Fall plays at the Tarragon Theatre Extra Space until April 27. 30 Bridgman Ave. 416- 531-1827.
That much hasn't changed in 23 years. If there's anything different about the current revival of Fire which is playing at the Bluma Appel Theatre until April 19, it's that the moral imperative of the Reverend Hershel Blackwell turns him into a soul-hungry television zealot, while the lack of scruples of his ambitious, freewheeling cousin Cale Blackwell, make them both surprisingly similar. Under James MacDonald's direction, the current production plays like a sweeping near three-hour saga (with one intermission) from the time that brothers Cale and Hershel are students in bible school along with their pretty cousin Molly, to Hershel's fame as a charismatic television evangelist, and to Cale's superstardom as a recording artist, songwriter and singer. Cale doesn't play the piano as much as assault it, often sitting down on the keys for a unique backside beat or standing up. His real life counterpart, Jerry Lee Lewis, did the same things with his fevered performances and was said to set the piano on fire during one concert, but that doesn't happen on this stage. Still, Dykstra, a consummate musician who matches the virtuosity (and looks) of the real Jerry Lee Lewis, earned more than one burst of applause after songs like A Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On, Good Golly, Miss Molly and Great Balls of Fire tore the house down. The real fireworks come from the three main performers themselves: Ted Dykstra's flamboyant Cale Blackwell, Rick Roberts obsessive Hershel Blackwell, and Nicole Underhay's innocent Molly King from the time her wide-eyed painfully naive marriage to Cale at the tender age of fourteen ends in divorce, to her later marriage to Hershel whose lack of humility as his television ratings begin to soar, causes her to question his true faith and her love for him. Rick Roberts as Hershel, takes his character from a shy teenager who has been dominated by his stern fundamentalist father J.D. Blackwell, played by Richard McMillan ("You know what Satan's tail looks like? - it looks like a TV antenna!") to a self-confident preacher with a gift for proselytizing and whose massive unseen television audience becomes his own private congregation of a million souls. Cale and Hershel become blood brothers as kids one fair night on top of Bretta Gerecke's triangular scaffolding set which serves several purposes but shines as Hershel's television church with a dazzling cross illuminating the stage. It is supposed to be an unbroken bond that they will look out for each other, but as the brothers go their separate ways with Cale's marriage to teeny bopper Molly, his first cousin and the young daughter of his manager, his uncle, his escalation to the pinnacles of fame with his unique rock and roll renditions, to the depths of despair due to alcohol addiction, his condemned marriage to a fourteen year old, and finally until his rapid spiral downward from sold out concerts to cheap bars and one night stands, breaks his spirit. Cale only becomes vulnerable while Hershel becomes a roaring success, a showman who collects souls to be saved, and thrives in his new found stardom. Even the spirituals on his television show become choreographed and upbeat, his new wife Molly, who has divorced Cale year before, his supportive friend, wife and, lead singer. Here again Nicole Underhay who has grown into her role from a sweet talking obedient southern girl to a gentle but determined woman who must face the realization that she's married two men who were utterly wrong for her, and shoulder the responsibility for it. Underhay does it with style. It's a tour de force performance. There is no happy ending to Fire. Anyone expecting one of the show's pulsating rock and roll songs to send us on our way, may be disappointed. It's almost as if the devil has his due when Cale cannot find forgiveness in his brother's harsh words. With that censorial finale, the fun of Fire gives way to a more solemn condemnation of the dangers of excess. It resonates with today's meaner climate of disgraced religious leaders and politicians whose currency of broken promises and salacious affairs are exploited by the media. That we're completely familiar with and surrounded by the message in Fire, that we're almost blasé with it, isn't to our credit, but neither does it take away from a powerhouse production. Fire plays at the Bluma Appel Theatre until April 19. 27 Front St. East. Tickets: 416.368.3110 or Ticketmaster 416.872.1111, and online at canstage.com/
We first meet Lawrence and Holloman at an after work bar where their strange friendship begins. Lawrence, played by Ryan Hollyman, is an ebullient positive thinker who thrives not by his wit but his aggressiveness. Brimming over with great plans for his bright future and reveling in his own self-importance, Lawrence is completely unaware how obnoxious he is. His own sense of lofty accomplishments - he's a star salesman in the men's wear floor of a department store - comes at the expense of his new found friend, Holloman, a shoe salesman in the stores' lowly basement who hangs on his every word. Played by Paolo Mancini, Holloman is the opposite of Lawrence, quiet and self-effacing, listening to Lawrence's lectures about his dowdy appearance, his lowly station in life, and his bland personality. "You should grow a moustache, to cover your face," booms Lawrence to Holloman, who barely endures his put-downs. Mancini's Holloman perfects the art of silent suffering with a tight smile, but there's something behind the eyes that is guarded and wary. Dressed in a nifty business suit, each and every one of his blonde hairs in place, Lawrence doesn't converse as much as lecture, a legend in his own mind. Even when his star seems to take a down turn, his outlook remains sunny, his malapropisms almost endearing (he calls himself an optometrist when he means optimist). Then, suddenly, like a modern day Job, Lawrence's good fortune, health and prospects begin to spiral downward. First he' s demoted to ready wear because someone has complained about him, his balcony rail collapses injuring him, he's accused of theft, his fiancee calls off the wedding, he's fired from his job, his dog dies from poisoning, and he's finally hit by a car driven by a strange man with a moustache. Now on crutches, Lawrence's left leg is permanently damaged and about to be amputated. If that weren't enough, as Lawrence's star fades into the horizon, Holloman's shines brighter. It turns out that he never did work in the store's basement selling shoes - he works in the credit department, and his slow but steady take on life is at least appealing to Lawrence's former fiance whom he is now romancing. That Lawrence is still a cockeyed optimist even though he's a walking disaster, is a wonder to Holloman "You have no collateral, no credit, no insurance," says Holloman, awed and angered by Lawrence's good nature. "Debt is the backbone of this country," retorts Lawrence. "My future is my collateral." By the time Lawrence has gone blind (sulphuric acid was substituted for his eye drops), in a wheelchair, and admitted to a mental institution even though Holloman was supposed to take him to a rehabilitation centre, it's plain that Lawrence is too dumb or naive to know the score, that the "stranger" that is always after him is closer than he thinks. He doesn't even catch on when Holloman admits that "You have to be pretty close to someone to hate him that much," still suffering Holloman's crude remarks with his usual cheerfulness. "I'm going to get a job," he tells him. "As what," answers Holloman, "a hat stand?" At the end, Holloman can't do what it would take to end the friendship, their degrading mutual dependency which has taken hold of each of their lives. "Why is it that you're so much happier than me?" asks Holloman, and it's the only time you feel any sympathy for him. Friendship is more complex than we imagine, even dangerous suggests Panych, when people mistake its true intentions or use it for their own purposes. We can take our cue from Lawrence and Holloman via the performers who make it so enjoyable to watch, at the same time demonstrating that friendship is complicated and sometimes cruel. What do we take from that? Every now and then, hug a friend. Or run the other way. Lawrence and Holloman is presented by Fish Shak Co-op and run until April 27 at the Bread and Circus Theatre Bar. 193 Baldwin Ave. at Augusta St. in the heart of Kensington Market. Tickets are $15 with Pay-What-You-Can Sundays.
While my memories of that incredible day at London's Aldwych Theatre put aside, I was still surprised to find my staying power losing ground during the current Chichester Festival touring production playing at the Princess of Wales Theatre until April 20. At 6 1/2 hours it's shorter than the original and the cast is smaller by about 12 actors. Under Jonathan Church and Philip Franks' direction, the ensemble work still remains magnificent and there are flashes of sheer brilliance in the Chichester production, as well as passages that seem endless. The multi-tasking performers, many of whom take on several roles, are often wonderful though Daniel Weyman's stentorian, priggish Nicholas Nickleby seems to orate rather than converse, while Abigail McKern's clueless Mrs. Nickleby seems to fit better into the shoes of Pride and Prejudice's silly Mrs. Bennett than a woman brought down to near poverty level by the death of her husband at a time when self-sufficiency came very hard for well-born women. It's here where Nicholas's story begins, a tale so long and sometimes so convoluted that his picaresque lifestyle sometimes needs a chart for those unfamiliar with Dickens' novel. Nicholas takes a job as a schoolmaster at a dreadful boarding school in Yorkshire where illegitimate and unwanted kids are dropped off, abused and forgotten, left to the mercy of the money-hungry, unscrupulous Mr. and Mrs. Squeers. If you thought that that Oliver Twist begging for more was pitiful, well, these bedraggled urchins are the underbelly of industrial England with a school that looks worse than a a battle zone, its owners or better yet commandants, played to the rafters by Veronica Roberts and Pip Donaghy. A word here for David Dawson's lovely performance as Smike, the physically impaired, fragile young man whom Nicholas befriends at the school. Dawson draws us right into his broken world, and it's a relationship that we don't have with many of the other performers. With all its beauty, the Princess of Wales Theatre doesn't lend itself for the kind of intimacy that Nicholas Nickleby with its large cast and epic scope could use. Entertainment is broadly conveyed and nuances get short shrifted in the characterization though there is some great cameo work by Wayne Cates and David Nellist in a later act. But I'm getting ahead of myself. When Nicholas can stand the school no longer, he takes Smike and joins a traveling theatre company where he becomes the sensation on the country stages, even falling for the company ingenue, Miss Snevellicci, played by the versatile Zoe Waites who takes on multiple roles in other acts as Nicholas's various lady acquaintances. The 'theatrical' scene, which is one of the highlights of the production, is a delicious burlesque of an 18th century theatre company who had to live by their inventions rather than their talent, to survive. While Act I seemed to crawl along in exposition, brighter things were on hand for our enjoyment when Nicholas and Crummie's theatrical crew give a blissfully over the top rendition of the tomb scene in Romeo and Juliet where everyone makes a flamboyant entrance due to a shaky staircase (a significant part of Simon Higlett's versatile bi-level set). Re-working the script - even Shakespeare had no currency on country stages when more laughs meant more bread and butter - no one dies in this version. Paris is stabbed, but he sits bold upright and says, "I'm not dead, I'm just stunned, " and Romeo and Juliet are destined to live happily ever after judging by their romantic clinch as the act ends. Nicholas's story may be the mainstay of the story, but dire things are happening back in London where Mrs. Nickleby and Nicholas' pristine sister, Kate, have stayed. Villains abound but no one is smoother than Nicholas' uncle, the wily and rich creditor Ralph Nickleby, played with an intriguing combination of evil and ignorance of his own motives by David Yelland, whose mellifluous offer of assistance comes with strings attached. The very prissy but pretty Kate, played by Hannah Yelland, is nearly sexually assaulted when she agrees to be a hostess at her uncle's supper for the morally questionable playboys of London's smart set. When Nicholas hurries back to London after hearing of Kate's distress, his fortunes turn once again, this time for the better when he's taken into the benevolent Cheeryble's counting house as an apprentice. The two twin brothers, each with flaming red hair and dressed in matching outfits, speak in tandem and look as if they stepped out of the pages of Alice in Wonderland, Tweedledum and Tweedledee. They're a refreshing duo (David Nellist and Wayne Cater) and give the final scenes of the production some welcome humanity. Amid the pain of Smike's death and Ralph Nickleby's fall from grace in this dubious social circles when his business is destroyed and his ending untidy, the Dickensian morality is driven home though neither Nicholas nor Kate nor their new found mates blissful in marriage, aren't nearly as interesting as the bad guys. Goodness prevails and the cast gathers on stage in celebration of the Nickleby clan's good fortune, singing a rousing chorus of God Rest You Merry Gentlemen, several times. After an afternoon and evening sitting in the theatre with the production's generous three-hour dinner break, we merry gentlemen and women hurry home to rest. Nicholas Nickleby plays at the Princess of Wales Theatre until April 20. For the performance schedule please see www.mirvish.com. 300 King St. West. For tickets: 416.872.1212 or 1.800.461.3333.
The 1965 production directed by Mike Nichols and starring Walter Matthau and Art Carney, was a perfect contemporary comedy with Simon on his way to the top of his game - the production won 5 Tony Awards - and the middle aged Matthau, a bona fide Broadway star at the ripe age of 44. The Odd Couple was about to embark on a long and happy journey, a triple threat on stage, film and television for a good 30 years. The question is, can you live through that many years years of seeing The Odd Couple in every media and not get tired of it? Never. The current Soulpepper Theatre production proves it with a rock solid production that still flies. Under Stuart Hughes' direction, The Odd Couple is faring very well, thank you, with all Simon's famous one-liners nearly as funny as they were when the play opened. There are limits to how heartily one can still laugh at jokes like "It was linguine, now it's garbage!" and Oscar being perplexed by Felix signing his letter FU (that's Felix Unger, in case you thought otherwise). Like all well used jokes, there is a limit to them just like having to listen to Dad or Uncle Charlie telling the same story for 50 years. What is still great about The Odd Couple is that the one-liners only serve the script, not drive it. Oscar and Felix are recognizable and very human, which is the genius of Neil Simon who based The Odd Couple on his own brother's divorce. In Felix's littered Manhattan apartment, designed by Lorenzo Savoini, where green in the refrigerator meant an entirely different thing back in 1965, The Odd Couple begins and ends with the boys meeting for their annual weekly poker game. The guys are the salt of the earth, earthy and very salty - Kevin Bundy, Derek Boyes, Oliver Dennis and Michael Hanrahan doing the honors. All the guys, except for Felix, who is unusually late, are anxious to get on with the game. When Felix finally does show up, overcome with emotion because his wife of 12 years has thrown him out, Oscar, in a fit of generosity, invites him to move in with him. Played by Diego Matamoros, Felix is vulnerable, pathetic, and a pain in the neck. Matamoros, who lets Felix's face crumple like a balloon deflating when self-pity overcomes him, never earns our sympathy, and that's good. Most of the time, you can't really like this lugubrious Felix. You can enjoy him, smile at his obsessions, and be thankful he hasn't barged in on you. Yes, Felix pulls his weight in the apartment, tidying up, brushing, cleaning, polishing and vacuuming, but his fastidiousness is overbearing and soon the easy going Oscar is set to push him out the window. There is one scene when you do have empathy with Felix, when the twittering Pigeon Sisters from an upstairs apartment - Krystin Pellerin and Amy Rutherford as irrepressible, irresistible bimbos - are inveigled to come down for dinner. You can almost feel Felix's pain at trying to make polite conversation out of the air, a wallflower in the corner hoping the floor will swallow him. In contrast, the happy-go-lucky Oscar is as anxious to get on with his life as Felix is content to wallow in his memories. Albert Schultz's rumpled Oscar, sloppy t-shirt, potruding stomach and baseball cap, is everyman at ease, the good life, the suddenly single life. Behind in his alimony, ahead in poker, the only thing he doesn't need is Felix behaving like a wife. The barbs begin, but as in all Neil Simon plays, the repartee is priceless. No one is as quick witted as Simons' characters are, but at least they sound like real people who have a sense of humor. When Felix and Oscar talk on the phone to their wives (This is an all-male cast) they actually walk to the telephone in the living room. No cells phones, no computers, no flat screen TVs. Communication actually took some effort way back when. And in Simon's play, it paid off. No wonder The Odd Couple has a happy ending. The Odd Couple play at the Young Centre for the Performing Arts until May 3. Distillery District. 55 Mill St. Building 9. 416.866.8666.
As a playwright Sherman likes strong woman, and this one is made of iron, but can still bend, a woman who has lived through the rampaging Cossacks in Russia, the holocaust, and the Warsaw Uprising where her family was wiped out. She's seen her young daughter murdered, was a passenger on the ill fated ship the Exodus, had three husbands, a gay grandson, become a 40-year-old hippie and finally, a woman whose Judaism has steered her through some rocky shoals. Her only son lives in Israel and has become a rabid Zionist, but though Rose knows that it will alienate her from him, she cannot condone the acts of violence that her children have committed in a promised land she once tried to call her own. It's an incredible tale and the remarkable Cadeau carries it from start to finish. The play opens as Rose sits shiva (the Jewish practice for mourning a loved one) on a hard bench through the two hour production, narrating this sometimes harrowing, but always exhilarating chronicle of Rose's life in the 20th century. Surrounded by her pills and ice cream and stopping more than once to take a drink of water because of breathing difficulties, doesn't stop Rose from leading us through her girlhood, her first menstrual period ("I wish God had given me a calendar instead"), her father who was always in bed "dying," her stern mother who could only see things in shades of black or white and nothing in between, and her move to Warsaw where she married an artist who had one glass eye and was an insatiable lover, and had a daughter, her life inexplicably, rudely interrupted by internment in the Warsaw Ghetto. "One week we were having chocolate cake at a cafe, the next week we were living with 8 people in a room with a half of a chicken for everyone. And then there was no chicken. We were starving." Directed flawlessly by Diana Le Blanc, there isn't one moment that you're not engulfed in Rose's narrative. While Ms. Cadeau has much to do with this, it's Sherman's rich multi-layering of Rose's story that anchors the play in the immigrant experience, primarily the Eastern European Jewish immigrant in 20th century America. But there's not a single element in Rose's life that's not accessible on some level, and one emotion that we haven't felt ourselves at some time during our lives. Rose discovers that there is a fine line between the heritage that has shaped her beliefs and those whose beliefs have been altered by time and circumstance. As a young bride married to her second husband and living in Atlantic City ,which she calls "Warsaw by the sea" with its ocean breezes fanned by gefilte fish and American chutzpah, she learns that to be exotic, one has only to go against the tide. Her in-laws who only speak Yiddish, like her much better when she learns English perfectly and sheds her Russian appearance for a shinier modern look. She devours cowboy films and learns to run her husband's business of rental rolling chairs on the Atlantic City boardwalk. Clever and industrious, Rose moves to Miami after her husband dies, where she runs a hotel, becomes friends with a dying woman and then falls a little in love with the woman's son, 20 years her junior, a guitar playing hippie with long hair who lives on a commune in Connecticut where Rose follows him. "We wore beads and sang songs about death," she says wryly. But Miami calls her back and Rose leaves the commune to return to the hotel and marries its kind owner who leaves her a wealthy woman when he passes away. When Rose finally makes it to Israel after her long ago aborted attempt to enter Palestine on the Exodus, the change is startling. "The milk was a little sour, the honey was a little tart," she says cryptically. Her son and his children are wedded to the new Israel of militancy and retribution, an Israel which only looks to the future, not to the old world culture or its heritage or its humanism. Rose is past history. It's not until the end of the play that we discover for whom Rose is mourning: a ten-year-old Arab girl shot dead by an Israeli soldier. "I finally sat shiva for someone who didn't die before his time, " she tells us. It was at that point it occurred to me that Rose is a little like Tevye the milkman, that marvelous invention of Sholem Aleichem, with his pipe line to God and his belief that there comes a time when there is no other hand, no compromise with one's beliefs. Rose completes the circle of her life and fittingly it ends as she herself succumbs to fate. I'm doing what Papa wanted to do for so long - I'm dying," she had confided to us earlier on. Papa obviously didn't have Rose's staying power, and for that we're lucky. Rose plays at the Jane Mallett Theatre. St. Lawrence Centre for the Arts, until March 29. 27 Front St. East.For tickets please call 416.366.7723. Purchase online at www.hgjewishtheatre.com
The title of the plays stems from patronizing remarks actually made by Donald Rumsfeld, Bush's Secretary of Defense until 2006, when the looting and pillaging of Baghdad's archaeological treasures took place. In the play, Rumsfeld, played by David Fox, isn't really purposefully witty but just as in real life life, he's undeniably hilarious. In describing the search for Bin Laden, Rumsfeld makes the point that "For people to waste their time chasing after a rabbit and then run it down to find it's the wrong rabbit, I think it's a shame." Set on a bare stage with a dozen or more chairs on rolling casters that turn on a dime and often make their occupants look as if they're part of a choreographed television commercial, the small Berkeley St. Theatre's Downstairs stage is perfect for the production, with the actors in a theatre of war, the audience in attendance. All the events, the political maneuvers and machinations, invite our scrutinizing. It's as if we're tuned into a paid telecast of what really went on behind closed doors. It's armchair politics with real chairs. The performers take turns with narration as well as step into their characters' shoes in a quick and seamless transition. While it's George Bush who is front and centre - Barry Flatman's in your face Texan with a drawl and a slap on the back, sometimes like Uncle Ben on the ranch, sometimes like Caligula playing with Rome - it's an imposing Colin Powell played by Nigel Shawn Williams, who merits our attention, if nothing else for his sanity amid a round table Greek chorus of Jingoists and war mongers. There is one hilarious scene when Condoleeza Rice and the others try to figure out if there really are weapons of mass destruction from a hazy photograph shown by Dick Cheney (Hardee T. Lineham who wears a permanent Cheshire cat smile) prefacing his trump card with "I'm not saying it is, and I'm not saying it isn't." Even the classy Rice with her impregnable expression and plastic smile - Yanna McIntosh plays it perfectly- looks at him as if his head is on backwards. The detail of the inevitable surge toward an all out-invasion coalesce around not only between Bush and his own advisers, but in the complicated and sometimes duplicitous dealings between Bush and his strongest ally, British PM Tony Blair, who believed that Bush and the U.S. government would never allow war to happen without the approval of the United Nations. As the articulate, debonair Blair, Andrew Gillies shows the utter helplessness of the man when he realizes that Bush's promises made to him will be broken, along with the collapse of his own guarantee to his party who were dead set against the war. It signals the end of his career, and we see it in his body language. An equally vulnerable Colin Powell locks horns at the U.S. Security Council meeting with Dominique De Villepin, played like a professional Frenchman by Paul Essiembre, who wonders if they'll have lunch before the talks begin. Villepin, however, exudes the confidence of someone who knows that whether his demands will be accepted or not, France and the European coalition stand behind the U.N., and if war is declared, the U.S., and its British ally, will go it alone. It is Powell, like Blair, who must acquiesce at the end, despite personal convictions, and despite Bush's questionable rationale - "Either you're with us or you're with the terrorists." When Blair argues that we can't go to war because of what we fear but because of what we know," Bush answers, "That sets the bar quite high." This is the conundrum of Bush in Hare's Play. Is he simply naive, stupid or lacking in perception? Did he really believe in those weapons of mass destruction when the inspectors came forward with nothing, when U.N. weapons Inspector Hans Blix (Guy Bannerman as an icy calm Hans Blix) accused the U.S. government of having "the same mind frame as the witch hunters of the past" — looking for evidence to support a foregone conclusion." People don't rise to such lofty positions if they're not intelligent, which adds another question mark in Hare's play. Few characters in Stuff Happens are above that intellectual high bar. The play itself, is all about a foregone conclusion. We all know the outcome, the whole world knows the outcome. If we want more proof we need only to turn on the news. It's all there, the war that seems endless. Still, Hare as a dramatist knows that we like our celebrities in whichever arena they operate, and there is nothing so intriguing as speculation. It's the appeal of Stuff Happens that we don't need the mystery or the dramatic tension, only the juicy conjectures of political bodies operating behind closed doors as we watch them spiral head first into uncharted waters. Stuff Happens plays until March 29 at the Berkeley St. Theatre. 26 Berkeley St. Toronto. 416-368-3110 OR 416-872-1212 OR 1-800-461-3333. Online Sales: www.stuffhappens.ca/
Ben Elton's musical which has been playing in London for over 6 years, has a legitimate claim in incorporating all the qualities of a rock concert. It uses the music of Queen, one of the great rock bands of the 20th century whose popularity has never waned because of its hit songs and its flamboyant star, iconic lead singer and Queen pianist, Freddy Mercury, who passed away in 1991. Not only does We Will Rock You have its own larger than life hero called Galileo - many of the characters names have been lifted from Queen's songs, If you listen closely, which isn't difficult due to the pumped up volume, you'll hear some actual recorded segments from the real Queen and master Mercury. While We Will Rock You has all the trappings of a mega rock concert, it's more than that with its fantastical story, a giant sci fi comic book come to life with a plot that's straight out of Marvel. There is a young hero called Galileo with a voice that raises the rafters (Yvan Pednault), who is so naive he hasn't a clue why he hears scraps of rock songs in his head that seem to come from nowhere. But in this futuristic country where rock music is forbidden and all music has been homogenized to complement the vapid atmosphere created by a giant corporation called GlobalSoft, there has to be someone who hears the 'real music', a dreamer who will awaken the rebel Bohemians and take back the music. The opening number Radio Ga Ga danced and sung by a robotic chorus line which sets the pace and prepares us for the entrance of GlobalSoft's formidable leader, Killer Queen, played by Alana Bridgewater, who reminded me of Matron Mama Morton in the film Chicago. In charge of all thought appropriation, Killer Queen can pulverize anyone's brain who crosses her, (i.e. Another Ones Bites the Dust),.and with the help of her chief henchman, the Armani-suited silken voiced Kashoggi (Evan Biuling), she does. Dressed in Tim Goodchild's eye-popping costumes, this queen is really much larger than life especially with giant videos of her face occupying the entire upper part of the stage. A lot of credit for the sleekly designed stage with its outstanding background graphics goes to Mark Fisher and Willie Williams. One knock-out scene features a line of computer generated heads that sing in tandem with the performers. Nothing surpasses that in the show and this is a show with a lot of impressive high end graphics. When Galileo finally meets his Scaramouche (Erica Peck),a cheeky punk feminist who has been jailed because of her insubordination, the two escape and find the outlaw Bohemians who recognize Galileo as the dreamer who will bring the music back. The Bohemians are an underground lot, so enamored of the famous rock bands that they have appropriated their names after reading them on left over old posters and yellowed magazines. Their two leaders, Oz and Burton (Suzie McNeil and Sterling Jarvis), along with the the rest of their colorful crew have more flash and dash than Galileo or Scaramouche but dressed like early Madonna and Kiss and sounding like Soho in the '60's puts you in a distinctive class compared to everyone else in this Ga Ga planet. The real spokesman for the Bohemians, however, is an old hippy named Pop who bears a striking resemblance to Don Francks but is really veteran actor Jack Langedijk. Lengedijk more often than not steals the show with Pop's hidden archives, his 1960's treasure trove of videos and tapes, and his malapropisms. The show's ending is victorious with the Bohemians recapturing their music and instruments which had been buried at Wembley Stadium, the venue of Queen's greatest concerts. No surprise there. But then the real star of We Will Rock You isn't the plot, but the music. It's delivered with power and close harmony by a fine ensemble chorus who know very well that the audience has come to hear the Bohemian Rhapsody (it's done as an encore), We Are the Champions, and We Will Rock You, all sung like an anthem to its creators. The two young stars of the show Yvan Pednault and Erica Peck are simply delightful, if that term can be used in this much hyped rock musical aimed at the baby boomers. Pednault's Galileo is vulnerable and sweet natured but it doesn't stop him from delivering the knock out We are the Champions like a true champion, while Erica Peck, at the ripe age of 20, has all the makings of a major Canadian talent with Saramouche's rendering of Somebody to Love. There
are 32 Queen songs in the 2 1/2 hour show, with music supervised
by Queen lead guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor. Both
were along on the splashy opening night to take their bows alongside
creator director Ben Elton. It was a night to remember for all Queen
fans, and for everyone else who likes unbeatable entertainment,
like Mercury said, it was Made in Heaven. We Will Rock You
plays at The Canon Theatre until May 11. 2008. 244 Victoria Street. 416-872-1212
or 1-800-461-3333.
Twist and Shout: The British Invasion
This show has been around, playing in a few of Mustakas' theatrical venues and it retains a freshness that stimulates and entertains. Mustakas has cast the show with a wonderful balance of talented performers, any of whom can be classed as first-rate. Even the weakest of the singers can do pretty good solos, while the best are of star quality. Mustakas has managed to create a fine balance among the cast and for the first time in ages, I have witnessed a true ensemble. The women are gorgeous and the men are remarkable in their ability to find the right accents and gestures. If I had any wish for this cast, it would be even more dance numbers. They were a pleasure to watch. The show is a multi-media spectacle with the enduring Robin Ward as the host of a television show, proving that he can also sing. I was a big fan of his in the mid-seventies in the ill-fated TV series, The Starlost. The cast is uniformly energetic and gifted, with Patrick R. Brown providing comic relief in some funny blackouts. His suit was probably used as a test pattern for sixties television. It contrasts admirably with the other wonderful costumes from designer Bill Layton and a bright and portable set that will hit the road for future productions. I am told that a lot of the costumes were built here in London , and if so, kudos go out to the people that rendered Layton 's ideas. They didn't miss a single great performer from the British Invasion, with concentration on the Beatles, but featuring some of the best work of Dusty Springfield, the Searchers, the Zombies, Herman's Hermits, Gerry and the Pacemakers and Danny Williams' hilarious creation of Mick Jagger. My feet were tapping along all night and the audience was drawn in helplessly with handclapping, sing-along work and eventually, a standing ovation. Twist and Shout is pure fun and you don't have to be a boomer to enjoy this show. I'd really like to go back and see it a second time. Twist and Shout: The British Invasion plays at the Grand Theatre from April 15 to May 11. Box Office: (519) 672-8800 or 1-800-265-1593 www.grandtheatre.com/
And All for Love
The best way of “civilizing theatre” states actress Lizzie Barry in her riotous prologue spoken to us, her 17 th century Restoration audience, as she stands on the little stage within the larger stage, preparing us for what is about to take place. King Charles II, who changed the laws to allow women's parts to be performed by women, was just imitating what already existed in the courts of France . Not to be outdone by the French, he too wanted to see the men in the audience “twitter” before those fine creatures who were about to rid the stage of all that is ‘impious, impure and unclean.” That moment of prologue sets us up for a marvelous evening of theatrical history, and just plain fun. It also revealed the writing talents of Alison Lawrence , who adopted the language of the time, who created intricate relations between the characters, and whose vision of the theatrical text opens up endless possibilities for interesting staging. I could add however, that the ending came about in a slam-bang sort of way. It left me feeling that the author had no idea how to finish the thing off, so she cooked up a preposterous gesture that totally contradicted the rest of the evening. But such things can be rewritten. Let's hope it is. The play focuses on the careers of two women who were the first actresses to appear on the English stage after the laws changed: Winnie Gosnell ( Kelly McIntosh ) and Lizzie Barry (Helen Taylor). Both engaged by the Duke Theatre (the rival of the King's theatre at that period), the careers of these two women differ radically, which is what appears to have interested the writer. Winnie, who begins as a maid, decides she wants to be on the stage. She seems to have an instinctive gift for acting. Though she does little to work on her stage craft, she is accepted immediately into the company. She lets her feelings guide her performances and many times we hear her say that she is searching for a new kind of acting style that allows her to be closer to reality, less mannered, as was the Restoration acting code. She does however seem to represent a modern, almost realistic conception of acting that was not possible at that period. Lizzie, on the other hand, comes to the stage by learning her craft the hard way. She does not succeed immediately. She does not have that spontaneous emotional link to her characters but she quickly learns the stage codes of the period and is so driven to succeed that she finally makes it. She almost takes over the company, but not before taking up with the Earl of Rochester, the notorious rake who gives her her first acting lessons and gives us a lesson in Restoration acting at the same time. One of the most interesting scenes in the play is that first encounter where he insults her, yells at her, and eventually abuses her physically. But what he is doing is teaching her the acting conventions of the period. Burning with ambition to be on the stage, Lizzie learns them quickly, and well, eventually becoming an accomplished actress and a ruthless business woman at the same time. . Both Canadian actresses assume their roles with great assurance, capturing the evolution of their characters in relation to their male colleagues and in relation to each other. Helen Taylor showed us most beautifully how Lizzie blossomed into a self-assured artist while Kelly McIntosh internalized the slow backward movement of Winnie as she is left behind by the new highly mannered acting styles that don't suit her temperament. It was the performances and the staging that brought the play to its greatest heights . The play is set in various locations around the theatre: backstage, on stage, during performances, between performances, during rehearsals. Eo Sharp's design functioned very well, in spite of the rather cramped space of the NAC studio. But the theatre-within-theatre style of staging can be read at even deeper levels as the lone male actor in the play, Michael Spencer–Davis, takes on multiple roles, including characters who themselves take on many stage roles. Davis becomes the Kynaston, th legendary male actor who performs females, constantly shifting his theatrical as well as his social identities. Director Daryl Cloryn picks up the staging challenges of this text and carries it all off with great panache. The most astounding achievement of the evening was the stellar performance by Spencer-Davis who brought utter perfection to the NAC stage as a chameleon who shifted from one character to the next with unbelievable subtlety. As the famous Samuel Pepys who loves to pinch the actresses backsides, as Thomas Otway, the gifted and sensitive playwright who is destroyed by Lizzie's rejection, or as the actor Kynaston who has to play various roles himself within this theatre company, Spencer-Davis slides from one character to the next with such absolute control that each new creation becomes a totally autonomous individual. The staging also plays games of illusion with the audience as the actor exits on one side of that Restoration proscenium arch and then suddenly appears in the dressing room on the other side of the stage after a split-second costume/wig change. Coupled with the director's fine eye and excellent sense of timing, it all worked beautifully. This is a play that will delight audiences and will especially interest people who consider theatre an art form. It not only speaks about that art, but also shows us how it works. Not to be missed. And All for Love plays at the National Arts Centre Studio from April 24-May 3, 2008 (Previews April 22 and 23) 53 Elgin St. at Confederation Square. Tickets: 1 866 850 ARTS or visit www.nac-cna.ca .
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It's hard to know what writer Brendan Gall had in mind with his play Alias Godot, a post apocolyptic black comedy about a stranger in a hostile unnamed North American city. Though there are only fleeting references to Samuel Beckett's classic allegory, Waiting for Godot, Gall has smartly shied away from any direct comparisons to Beckett through the story or dialogue. Nor is there any question mark of when Godot will come;there are no tramps waiting ad infinitum for a powerful and possibly divine being who never shows up in the play. In Galls's work, he's there onstage, flesh and blood, naive and - played by Alon Nashman - unintentionally humorous. What he's doing there remains a mystery. 
As You Like It, Shakespeare's robust comedy about banished royalty, feverish young love and the glories of rustic life, is a perfect vehicle for young performers. The Soulpepper Theatre Company is featuring the work of the resident members of its Soulpepper Academy for the last production of its winter season. As You Like It is currently playing at the Young Centre for the Performing Arts until April 19. 
The production of George F. Walker's 1973 play Beyond Mozambique proves that there is a gold mine of Canadian classics from the 1970's that deserve a new millennium presentation. While many of these works only provided a glimpse of the talent that lay within, playwrights who have gotten better with the years, they provide a historical context to the feverish activity of Canadian plays that began in the early '70's and continued unabated in the decades ahead. 
Two hard hitting plays about tough issues faced by today's teenagers are currently playing at The Lorraine Kimsa Theatre for Young People. Cranked, which is onstage only until May 3 before it starts its tour to Eastern Canada, is an award winning production from Vancouver's very fine Green Thumb Theatre. Green Thumb is renowned for its issue plays directed at young people and teens, and Cranked is one of the very best, certainly one of the most powerful plays for teenagers that this reviewer has seen in the last 35 years.
In the small space of Lorraine Kimsa Theatre for Young People's Nathan Cohen Studio, the deadly world of video game junkies hits you like a 3-D film with surround sound. Dead Ahead, written and directed by Edward Roy, poses a caveat to teenagers about getting hooked on violent video games. The world of fantasy is a long way from every day reality, and in the world of the three teenaged boys in Dead Ahead, reality is a hard and sometimes bitter pill to swallow, nowhere as exciting as playing their favorite interactive video game called Dead Ahead, with its theme of "Gangland Supremacy in Mega City."
Who wouldn't sympathize with the characters in The December Man. Colleen Murphy's award-winning play about the effect that the massacre of 14 women at the École Polytechnique in December, 1989, had on an ordinary working class family in Montreal tackles a difficult subject. 
Film buffs who loved the original film 1887 Dirty Dancing may not find the stage version as warm hearted as the original but they will find it a good deal livelier. Scenes shift in split seconds, dancers fill the stage at the drop of a hat and the hit parade pop songs of the 1960's are played with such gusto over loud speakers that they sometimes muffle the dialogue. You don't really need a lot of dialogue in Dirty Dancing. Eleanor Bergstein's story is so well known that as soon as 'Baby' Houseman and Johnny Castle begin their first dance together, parts of the audience, especially the young women many of whom were too young to even know what Dirty Dancing meant when the film was released, break into cheers. The power of cult films. 
You don't have to do much more than tune in to the news or scan the daily newspapers for titillating stories about political misdemeanors and politicians in high places who commit them. Greg Nelson's play, The Fall, was originally produced by the Summerworks theatre festival in 2005,then expanded to its present 70-minute version which premiered at the Great Canadian Theatre Company in Ottawa in 2005. It was a perfect play for Ottawa with its multi-layered story about a Toronto lawyer whose recently deceased father, Harry McKay, had been a highly respected Supreme Court Justice, and a young reporter who interviewed him, then simply disappeared out of sight. It plays at the Tarragon Theatre Extra Space until April 27. 
Paul Ledoux' and David Young's rock gospel show Fire has aged well since it's 1985 debut when audiences couldn't get enough of its high energy fueled by the musicianship of performer Ted Dykstra. Its script, inspired by the real life story of 1950's rock sensation Jerry Lee Lewis and his bible thumping cousin and television star, the reverend Jimmy Lee Swaggart, was a natural for audiences who like their celebrities to have feet of clay and tarnished reputations. It makes for good drama. 
Morris Panych's 1998 black comedy, Lawrence and Holloman, has returned to the city for a refreshing new production directed by Courtenay Stevens, at the funky Bread and Circus Theatre Bar in the heart of Toronto's Kensington Market. Anyone who thought the market was best known for fish and fruit, will be surprised. Theatre has made its presence known amid the cheek to jowl store front enclaves of Baldwin Street, and even though the space is a bit dark and the chairs a little hard, the bartender is friendly and performers Ryan Hollyman and Paolo Mancini, do complete justice to Panych's bizarre take on friendship and the toll it takes on two disparate people.
There is a gap that is as wide and deep as the ocean in the years that span 1979 to the present. A lifetime. Yet, great literature as well as great theatre has a staying power that reaches across decades. The 8-hour stage adaptation of Charles Dickens' Life and Times of Nicholas Nickleby first saw the light of day in the Royal Shakespeare Company production in 1980. Adapted by David Edgar and performed by 40 actors, it was, as the poster trumpeted, a priceless experience. More than that, it was sheer magic. Who would have guessed that anyone could sit through two acts of 4 hours each (a two hour intermission for dinner) and still want more. 
When Neil Simon's The Odd Couple had its Broadway premiere in 1965, its two main characters, Oscar Madison and Felix Unger, were referred to in a press blurb as two "lovelorn men, one messy and one neat." Life was so much simpler then. 
"I'm 80 years-old. I find that unforgivable." You don't for a moment begrudge Rose her final irony. She has life cornered. She's lived every moment of her eighty years with all the heartache and joy that comes with the territory, and then some. Martin Sherman's one-person show Rose opens the new Harold Green Jewish Theatre Company with Lally Cadeau in the title role. Both Ms. Cadeau and the new company deserve a round of applause: the company for being the only professional Jewish theatre in the city with an enviable mandate: to present outstanding theatre experiences to audiences of all backgrounds, and for Cadeau who gives a tour de force performance that gives star quality to the new enterprise. 
Studio 180 and its Artistic Director Joel Greenberg have made a specialty of producing politically and socially relevant dramas. From their much acclaimed Canadian premiere of The Laramie Project to the flavorful stew of The Arab-Israeli Cookbook, Studio 180 has become one the most vibrant young companies in town. With David Hare's Stuff Happens, Studio 180 and Greenberg are on familiar territory again with a political collage of backstage events leading up to the war in Iraq, starring the leaders of the western world. The entire play is "pure guesswork" as Hare phrases it, but it's the kind of guesswork that seems so much on the mark, you could swear it was taped from hidden mikes inside the White House. 
Rock
concerts with their high tech glitz, booming sound and larger than
life personalities are a phenomenon of our times. It's no wonder
that so many stage musicals compete with rock concerts in their
presentations to appeal to today's live audiences. P.T. Barnum said
it all with Follow the Band. If you've never seen a star quality
rock concert and want to see what you've missed, then We
Will Rock You will - well, rock you, and then some.
Artistic Director Susan Ferley is closing out this season at London 's Grand Theatre with a lively musical production called Twist and Shout: The British Invasion. She has imported theatrical impresario Alex Mustakas to direct his own creation, a retrospective of the British Invasion of America in the mid-sixties, and the results are terrific.
This is a play that touches on a world close to the heart of Peter Hinton, Artistic Director of English theatre at the National Arts Centre. He has done much to bring about a renewed interest in post-Elizabethan theatre – its acting styles, its textual idiosyncrasies, its social and political underpinnings, its anecdotes and its enormous contribution to the history of world theatre in general. Bathing in this light of theatrical discovery, for Ottawa audiences in any case, this production of And All for Love also gives us a thoroughly contemporary look at that period of Restoration theatre when women were admitted to the stage for the first time.
