American Idiot

Disillusioned youth coupled rebelling against the government, the war and their parents isn't exactly a new idea. When the music of Green Day, the hit punk rock group of the 1990's was assembled for their 2004 studio album release American Idiot, it would follow in the footsteps of the concept albums of Hair, Tommy, Jesus Christ Superstar and Rent in producing a musical story line that needed little if no dialogue. It also zeroed in on the disaffected young people of the time, just as Hair and others had done.

The young men and women of American Idiot, the stage musical which debuted in 2010 on Broadway, might be the offspring of Hair's flower children, though the similarities end there.  There is no peace and love wafting in American Idiot, only the pain of unwanted pregnancies and fear of being stifled by antiquated values. The soft drugs of Hair have been supplanted by the hard core stuff which takes everyone prisoner, and the loving arms of Hair's tribal spirit have been shortened to the loneliness of a big city.

Does it all work against American Idiot as piece of   - well, enlightening entertainment. Not at all. The show may be brutally honest but its characters still reach out and touch you and if all else fails to move you, the music will probably sit on your chest most of the time and get the blood going, which is one of the best qualities of rock. There are also some chart topping Green Day/Billie Joe Armstrong songs from a few years ago that are tuneful enough to suit all tastes especially Boulevard of Broken Dreams (I Walk Alone),  and the more lilting Wake Me Up When September Ends.

The high octane powerhouse production directed by Michael Mayer which is playing at the Toronto Centre for the Arts until Jan. 15, launches its first North American Broadway tour in Toronto as well as Dancap Productions' 2012 season.

The story follows the lives of three young men - Johnny, Will and Tunny -  in middle class suburbia, who escape to other worlds in various ways. Van Hughes's angry, almost angelic looking Johnny, who is the most determined one of the trio to get out of town, out of having to shower, and out of his parents clutches, leads off the brash American Idiot opening number like the proverbial bat out of hell. The muscular choreography by Steve Hoggett, reminiscent of Stomp and Spring Awakening, and the onstage booming band of guitars, cellos and bases. will lift you a foot or two with the first notes like a rude awakening, then allow you to simply go with the flow, well invigorated.

Johnny becomes a kind of commentator for the show, forever petulant and never stepping out of his wilful character even in the big city as he discovers that the way to overcome isolation is to take yourself out of it with cocaine supplied by the saturnine St. Jimmy, a modern day smooth talking Mephistopheles, played by Joshua Kobak.

Johnny even manages to get his new girlfriend, Whatsername (so much for individuality) hooked as well. That's too bad, because she genuinely cares for him, an emotion that whizzes by him, leaving no mark. But Gabrielle McClinton as Whatsername does leave her mark, both as the suppliant bed partner who tries not to let her feelings get in the way of the next injection, and later on leading the women on in the defiant in-your-face Letterbomb.

Meanwhile the more placid Will, has stayed back home, a perennial couch potato played easily by Jake Epstein, drinking himself into oblivion with his sullen pregnant girlfriend Heather (Leslie McDonel) who finally leaves him after the baby is born, while Tunny, played with virile intensity by Scott J. Campbell, follows a different road out of town, joining the army, with some doubts, along with Jarran Muse in army officer stripes, together in the reflective Are We the Waiting. But it's the pounding Holiday that makes the definitive anti-war statement in the musical, though we can only guess that it's the war in Iraq. The musical time frame is indefinite, sometime in the near past we assume, though the show tries to transcend any particular period.

For some sentimentality and a slice of surrealism - there is a bit of that in the production - the scene with the severely wounded, hallucinatory Tunny, who will eventually return home an amputee, gets off the ground with a Cirque du Soleil style wire lift with his nurse (Nicci Glaspell soars) who has turned into an Arabian nights princess, in the wistful Extraordinary Girl.  Back in the hospital after the amputation, Tunny will find that the nurse is more than part of the medical support team, but a soul mate who will eventually bring him back home.

He's not the only who will return. Johnny, older, worn out from a sojurn into nowhere, will go back to suburbia to fulfill his parents' prophesy that he would amount to nothing. Dressed in a shirt and tie, his guitar put aside, overkill for an office somewhere, he's a long way from the promising detour from the ordinary at the beginning of the show.

With 29 musical numbers in the production, a compilation of Green Day numbers from several sources as well as the concept album, American Idiot's territory is wide and expansive, not always as clearly defined as you might want, but always compelling. The great musical score helps, so does Mayer's sharp staging along with the high tech design which puts 33 plus TV monitors on the back and sides of the stage accompanied by punk posters and the band led by Jared Stein.  It's a busy world these characters live in and the pulsating monitors are a further indication of the mutability of the world they live in. No wonder they're so frantic. American Idiot plays from Dec. 28 (Opens Dec. 29) to Jan. 15 at the Toronto Centre for the Arts, 2050 Yonge St. Tickets: www.DancapTickets.com or by calling 416.644.3665 or toll-free at 1.866.950.7469
Photo: by Doug Hamilton. L to R: Van Hughes, Scott J. Campbell and Nicci Glaspell.
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

A Brimful of Asha

There are few theatre productions that make you feel as welcome as A Brimful of Asha. The Tarragon Theatre Extra Space is as intimate as you'll find in any Toronto theatre, but in Ravi Jain's production, designed by Julie Fox, it's the personal touch that's the key to the evening's enjoyment. Not only do you feel as if you'd been invited to tea at Asha Jain's home (that's Ravi's mother and the other half of this amazing duo), but upon entering the theatre, you're greeted by a smiling Ravi Jain who invites you up on the tiny stage to try a samosa before the play begins. This is wonderful, I thought. If every producer did this, you'd  have warm feelings about the play before it even started.

Okay - not so practical. But then A Brimful of Asha isn't so much a play as it is seeing a couple of raconteurs recalling the in and outs of an unforgettable trip to India in 2007, when Asha Jain tried, desperately, to get her son, Ravi, married. So we watch both mother and son go back and forth with reminiscences, recollections, corrections to each other's recollections, a little arguing, which doesn't amount to too much (what can you do when your mother is onstage with you?), a little forgiveness, a little more determination. Ravi isn't ready to get married; his mother isn't ready to give up.

We find out a lot about the importance of marriage, especially arranged marriages in the Hindu tradition, with the custom of giving the young people a boost to get on with it , especially if they're the least bit reticent. It's rooted in practicality, that being the promise of grandchildren, security, a happy home (hopefully),  and peace of mind for mom who has been biding her time long enough, along with all the relatives and friends  back in India who are providing the other half of the pressure cooker.  

Both Ravi and mother Asha, sitting at that tea table, represent the generational divide, the Canadian born Ravi, in his blue jeans, his mother in her Sari. The only other design complement to the production and one that helps to centre some of the discussions, are two screens above the sides of the table that show us treasured family photos, how a bio of a prospective wife is put together for a prospective husband (using the photo of  a gorgeous Bollywood movie star as a farfetched example), a map of India, and magazine style tourist photos.

Ravi's great adventure fending off suitable brides (and not succeeding very well) began when the actor was offered a job teaching a theatre workshop in Calcutta. That was to be the starting point of his getting familiarized with his Indian roots, followed by a trip around the whole country with his best friend Andrew.

The best laid plans.... etc. Soon, it isn't only Ravi going to India,  but mom and dad who were surprisingly taking a "little break", but managed to pop up wherever Ravi went, in their quest to find him a wife. Ravi complies as best he can, even meeting one of the girls (his father parked at a table near them), and finding out, gratefully, that she's about as disinterested as he is.  It doesn't deter mom and dad, who are as precise as professional wedding planners when it comes to setting up lunches with all their relatives scattered across a few cities, and some of the prospective fiancée's relatives as well. It all falls apart with a great sigh of relief when Ravi discovers that the girl has decided to marry her present boy friend.

Ravi may be the chief storyteller here, doing all the impersonations (extremely well),  laying out the comic ground and keeping the story line in order, but when it comes to mom, Asha Jain has no qualms about sparring with him, and even interjecting some unexpected opinions. It keeps the improvisatory nature of the A Brimful of Asha fluid even though the show was developed back in 2010 as part of the Playwright's Unit. Asha had never worked as a professional artist until that point, and both she and her son developed the story together. It's what makes the show so warmly realistic. And it doesn't hurt that both mother and son have smiles that light up a room.

A Brimful of Asha is a unique piece of theatre that gives the audience an opportunity to see both sides of the table, so to speak. Asha relates a new immigrant's point of view when she was first married (arranged, of course) and about to begin her new life in a strange country, her gradual  transition to a comfort zone in Canada, and finally, the resolve to keep her own faith and values firmly in place while adjusting to her son's strange profession, and especially his insistence on choosing his own wife when the times comes,  (I'm not an actor," she says at the beginning of the show, "I'm a housewife and an abused mother."), while the Canadian born Ravi strives to keep his own life and his own goals on track while trying to please his mother.

It's an age old debate but the Jains give it a freshness that's not only inviting but a brimful of fun. A Brimful of Asha runs to February 19, 2012 in Tarragon Theatre’s Extra Space. 30 Bridgman Ave. Tickets: 416.531.1827 or www.tarragontheatre.com. Special performances also take place Sunday, February 5 and 12 at Dish Cooking Studio (390 Dupont Street) and include a cooking class with Asha, the performance, and a shared vegetarian Indian meal. Tickets for this event are $75.
Photo by Erin Brubacher.
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

Caroline, or Change

Caroline, or Change, Tony Kushner and Jeanine Tesori's unpretentious but marvelously affective chamber opera about an ordinary family facing extraordinary change in the 1960's, has won a host of prestigious awards including the Drama Desk, Lucille Lortel and Olivier Award for Best Musical, though it never achieved the commercial success of other Broadway musicals. That make be in its favor. It makes its Canadian premiere in Toronto, a co-production between the Acting Up Stage Company and Obsidian Theatre Company, and plays at the Berkeley Theatre downstairs until February 12.

The title of the show refers to the small change that Caroline Thibodeaux, a black maid and divorcee with three kids, working for a Jewish family in a southern town in Louisiana, collects in her bleach jar, coins that she takes out of the pants pocket of a careless young boy named Noah Gellman, when she's doing the family laundry.

It's 1963, a mere two years after Louisiana's desegregation, and momentous events such as the growing civil rights movement,  the ascendancy of Martin Luther King, and Kennedy's assassination, have become a fulcrum for change among the black community. But it's the small coins, the dimes and nickels and quarters, that wind up in the bleach jar to be given back to Noah, that will drive the emotional content of the play, and steer the fragile relationship between between Caroline and Noah toward a combustion that will change the Gellman family forever.

The 10-year-old Noah, in a virtuoso performance by Michael Levinson, is still grieving for his dead mother, while his gentle, remote father,  Stuart (Cameron MacDuffee)  has shut him out of his everyday life, burying himself in his music.  Noah's stepmother Rose, once his mother's best friend, tries to get closer to Noah, but her New York sensibilities (Deborah Hay's Rose is a breath of fresh air in the sweltering narrow mindedness of a small town) seem out of sync with the languidness of her husband and the chilly indifference of Caroline.

It's no wonder that Noah looks upon Caroline's stern exterior as a sign of strength, something that his father doesn't have. He believes that he and Caroline are friends,  but Caroline, an angry, churlish woman who has spent the best years of her life in someone's basement laundry room washing clothes, has no patience with Noah and his constant interruptions, nor Rose's genuine kindness in offering her extra food to take home to her kids or her wistful plea that maybe they could become friends.

Arlene Duncan's Caroline who has dignity that goes beyond her lowly station on the working class pecking scale, is something of a wonder: a character we can admire because of her fortitude and her years of backbreaking work amid racism and segregation, though we can't quite like her. Duncan holds true to the character not bending an inch until the very end in an agonizing admission of her own failure as a human being. It's a long way from her powerful, opening number "...There ain't ain’t no underground in Louisiana. There is only underwater."

It is indeed Caroline's world, in the basement with the laundry, and Set Designer Michael Gianfresco's tri-level set which fills the stage generously, first invites us into that part of the Gellman's middle class home where Caroline once again begins her daily routine of washing the family's clothes. But as colorless as it is to Caroline, playwright Kushner has added elements of fantasy which are amusing and colorful,  but better yet give a sardonic voice to the production. No one does it better than Kushner whose caustic wit and lush, intelligent dialogue in Angels in America had all of the above and more.

And so Londa Larmond, dressed like a night club entertainer from the 1950's, plays The Washing Machine (beside the actual one onstage), gurgling, taking pride in her seven- cycles and pressing Caroline to get on with it, while Sterling Jarvis, a sexy, heat loving, gyrating Dryer, baits her with "let’s make this basement a purgatory." They're not outdone by The Radio, a Motown trio of Supreme look-alike singers  (Alana Hibbert, Neema Bickersteth, Jewelle Blackman),  who pop up from time to time to sympathize with Caroline's domain "sixteen feet below sea level",  and her broken dreams.

For better ego stroking there's Neema Bickersteth as an elegant Moon, perched high above Gianfresco's set like a white robed deux ex machina, committed to positive thinking and promising Caroline that things will get better.

Caroline is a loner, who doesn't have many places to turn for friendship, and even when she does, her resentment gets the best of her. When she learns that her younger waiting-for-the-bus friend Dotty (Alana Hibbert), also a maid, has been encouraged to go back to night school by her white employers, it's a slap in the face for Caroline who sees in Dotty the intrepid, ready to face the world young person she might have been once upon a time, if it weren't for an early marriage, an abusive husband whom she eventually divorced, and three kids to raise in the segregated deep south.

It's a new world around the corner and even in her own family, times are changing. Willful daughter Emmie (Sabryn Rock) has become an activist, resentful in her own way of being held back by her mother who doesn't seem to understand that the way to fight the status quo is to fight for it. And during a Hannukah party that Rose Gellman is having for her father visiting from New York, the party like atmosphere is suddenly spoiled by a confrontation between Emmie and Rose's left-wing father (Shawn Wright) about the civil rights movement, embarrassing Caroline who has engaged Emmie to work in the kitchen catering the party.

But it's the small change in the bleach jar that seals the direction of the play when Rose approaches Caroline with an offer. In order to teach Noah to be more responsible with money, Caroline should keep the money she finds in his pants pockets instead of giving it back to him. The chain of events that follow testing both Caroline's integrity and Noah's relationship with Caroline, leads Caroline to make a decision that will change the lives of everyone around her.

Among a raft of outstanding performances, there are those which never really come to any consequence.  The Gellman grandparents (Mary Pitt and Nicholas Rice) have little to do except tell Noah that his mother died from smoking too many cigarettes, while on the other hand , Caroline's daughter Emmie, and two younger children, Joe (Kaya Joubert Johnson) and Jackie (Derrick Roberts), make such a singular impression in one musical number that the whole Thibodeaux family looks as if they stepped out of Glee.

Undoubtedly Tim French's choreography helps, but most of the credit goes to director Robert McQueen who kept the show in just the right key throughout with no pounding emotions, no over the top sentimentality. While there are no memorable musical numbers, Jeanine Tesori's pleasant score serves the lyrics perfectly. Set in such a tumultuous time of American history, Caroline, or Change is at its heart a story of very ordinary people trying to come to terms with the world around them. Some things never change. Caroline, or Change plays at The Berkeley St. Theatre until Feb. 12. 26 Berkeley St. Toronto. Tickets: 416-368-3110 and Online at  www.actingupstage.com
Photo: by Joanna Akyol. L to R: Jewelle Blackman, Arlene Duncan, Alana Hibbert, Neema Bickersteth
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

 
Cruel and Tender

War is hell, said a renowned Union General at the start of the bloody American Civil War. The ancient Greeks had a jump start on him - without the qualifying sentiments. Nor does  Martin Crimp in Cruel and Tender,  his modern take on Sophocles' The Women of Trachis. Heracles, the great hero in that play and a few others, hadn't the milk of human kindness in him. War was war and you killed and conquered or you tried and died which was much better than coming back to the homeland defeated and dishonored.

In that sense director Adam Egoyan's rendering of  Cruel and Tender, playing at the Bluma Appel Theatre until  Feb. 18, fits more squarely in the Ancient Greek theatre of war than the contemporary one.  The great  General has had a godlike reputation in his country, though lately he has taken to destroying villages unmercifully and murdering their people. Now, his methods have been undergoing more scrutiny with his most recent slaughter.  His wife, the mentally off-kilter Amelia, who has been left alone all through their marriage while The General went off to "fight terror," has just discovered that the government wants to try him for war crimes.

No wonder she's unbalanced. The family lives in a space that resembles a prison courtyard more than a home,  Debra Hanson's frigid white set with steps leading up toward a single entrance, has doors that open and shut silently while characters emerge from them soundlessly.

In the middle of all this is Amelia, The General's wife. Arsinée Khanjian plays her as a woman who no longer knows what to believe but has to underline each sentence determinedly as if she was trying to convince herself. It's a performance out of odds with the rest of the characters who are by and large are a self absosrbed lot whose main interest is themselves. The sympathy automatically shifts to Amelia who has more humanity, though becoming more and more estranged from reality as the play progresses.

Her household staff,  Rachel, the Housekeeper (Brenda Robins) is competent and cool, a stoic who has learned that it's best not to take sides, only manage them, while  Nicola (Sarah Wilson) a beautician, and Cathy (Carla Ricketts), a masseuse, are gossips who wind up befriending The General's mistress, Laela (Abena Malika), his "spoils" from  the war, who shows up at the front door unexpectedly one evening with her young son,  and are generously taken in by Amelia until she discovers that her husband destroyed the village purposely to take Laela away with him.

In a couple of scenes, the strange inclusion of romantic ballads like "My Man," undertaken as a karaoke style rendering by Ricketts, are so off-key they're laughable. Memories of Billie Holliday make more of an impression when the beautiful Laela, who really can sing, appears dressed like the famous blues singer complete with Holliday's familiar white gardenia in her hair.

There are notable performances from Jeff Lillico as The General's strident son who doesn't seem to have much respect for either of his parents, and Nigel Shawn Williams as Jonathan,  The General's Aide de Camp who knows all the tricks of political mumbo jumbo to convince the country and his family that The General is leading a noble fight.

As for The General himself, we don't meet him until the last part of the play, and by then he's only a shadow of his former self, mentally at least, having been unintentionally poisoned  by his wife who thought an innocent capsule given to her by a friend would strengthen his vigor. It's harder for us to swallow this explanation of The General's deteriorating condition than it was for The General himself, especially since Daniel Cash's General is so robust physically. The videos of him dying shown on the wall of the mammoth set are mindful of the old outdoor movie theatres where the film actors really were larger than life and died much better.  

There's much cruelty in Cruel and Tender, but the only tenderness rendered is reflected in Amelia's guilt and self-recrimination, and that's a bit of a stretch. The General's final excuse for his actions after being convicted for his atrocities -  "I did what I was instructed to do" - is the only real connection to the modern age dictatorships.  Heracles would never had made such an un-heroic blunder. Cruel and Tender plays at the Bluma Appel Theatre to Feb. 18. Tickets are available online at www.canadianstage.com, by phone at 416.368.3110, or in person at the box office. 
Photo by Bruce Zinger: L to R: Jeff Lillico, Arsinée Khanjian
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

 
Hair

Anyone who lived through the indelible love/peace/freedom/happiness years of the late 1960's would probably agree that Hair is the most memorable musical tribute to those times. One stops short of calling it a celebration since Hair was as much an anti-war protest as it was an anthem to free love, free expression and LSD. It caused a sensation, among other things because of its profanity, its treatment of sexuality and illegal drugs, its irreverence for the American flag, and one very short glimpse of frontal nudity, which didn't turn out to be that notorious. Toronto theatregoers in the late '60s' when Hair reigned supreme at the Royal Alexandra for more than a year, had already seen more nudity onstage at the alternative theatres, than Hair had in a very brief  few moments nightly.

The current revival of the 2008 production of  Hair, has returned to the Royal Alexandra Theatre  - a homecoming you might say - where it plays until December 31, is more exuberant than the original Hair was, its dance number more choreographed, its staging less relaxed. Time is a very precise barometer when it comes to attracting audiences of a different era, and even with the familiarity of wars and protests raging all over the world,  the current production of Hair falls squarely in the era of contemporary Broadway musicals and rock shows.

That's not a bad thing, and it's not to say that the serious side of the musical is ignored, far from it. The indecisiveness of tribal member Claude Brukowski to succumb to the draft notice and join the army fulfilling his parents' patriotic fervor, is sensitively handled by the very talented Paris Remillard, who makes us feel the quandary of being in the right place at the wrong time with Where Do I Go?,  his rocking hymn to being alive (I Got Life), and later on with the ironic What a Piece of Work is Man. The final scene of the musical is still heartbreaking, the one spot in the musical which will still ring all too familiar to North American audiences.

Directed by Diane Paulus, choreographed by Karole Armitage, and designed by Scott Pask, the familiar Hair sunburst icon covers the entire back wall with the band onstage on  platforms supported by an army truck. The rest of the color is provided by the corps of tribal village dropouts in New York's  East Village, garbed in costumes by Michael McDonald, with every known item of dress and decoration from the period - the headbands, beads, gypsy skirts, and above all the long hair which was as much a significant part of era as the peace sign.

You can't miss the swinging manes of hair in the musical number of the same name, though Steel Burkhardt as the hyperkinetic Berger, gets to show off his more than anyone else, even moving down into the audience to tweek a few of the patrons. Audience interaction happens several times, one of the additions to the show which seems to be a popular effect this days though its playfulness here tends put too much distance between the audience and the message.  

The outwardly carefree if subliminally unsure tribe of young people who value their freedom to go where they want to go (How Dare They Try), to love whomever they choose, (I Believe in Love) and to do whatever they want to do (Aint' Got No) without the restrictions of a conservative society, and a deadly war in Vietnam waiting for them, is mainly conducted through the wonderful score of Gerome Ragni, James Rado and Galt MacDermot, with little dialogue. There's even the usually overstated axiom that complete freedom has its drawbacks.  Sara King as Sheila lets go with the quietly powerful Easy to Be Hard that questions how someone who cares so much about strangers and social injustice can hurt the one closest to him.

One definitive plus of the musical is while the social mores of the time were turned upside down by Hair's tribal village which became the voice of the 1960's generation, the older generation wasn't put down. In fact,  the delightful character of Margaret Mead (Will Blum) takes a proactive endorsement of  "male plumage" while Claude's mother and father (Liz Baltes and Will Blum) are loving if politically misguided parents.

Almost half of the second act takes place during a long drug infused hallucination (Walking in Space) that manages to skewer discrimination with humor (Black Boys, White Boys) and war with sobriety in the strongest anti-war statements in the musical, Three-Five-Zero-Zero and The Flesh Failures. There's no musical that's ever begun with such unmitigated hope (Aquarius) and ended with an equally severe condemnation of the waste of human life, even with the coda to let the sunshine in.

Hair, which won the 2008 Tony Award for Best Revival, is a good show to usher in a new year, which it does when it finishes its run here on Dec. 31. You wonder how far we've come in the 44 years since Hair opened at Joseph Papp's Public Theatre in 1967, one year before it moved to Broadway. Judge for yourself and enjoy the trip back to the Age of Aquarius. Hair plays at the Royal Alexandra Theatre until Dec. 31. 260 King Street West, Toronto. Box Office: 414-872-1212 or 1-800-461-333
Online Sales: www.mirvish.com
Photo: by Joan Marcus of the cast from the touring production of Hair.
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

British composers Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice were in the their early 20's  in 1968 when they conceived a 15-minute pop-cantata for an end of term entertainment at a boy's prep school in London. Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, based on a "coat of Many colors"  story of Joseph from the Book of Genesis, wasn't given a full musical stage treatment until six years later. You could say it grew by leaps and bounds, which it did, its family friendly book and songs having been presented by thousands of school groups and community theatre productions through the years.  It also scored a major a hit with its long time major touring production which starred  Donny Osmond as Joseph.  It shows no signs of slowing down.

It's part of the Lower Ossington Theatre's (LOT) ambitious series of musicals which started this past fall with Spring Awakening. After Joseph finishes the season on Dec. 30 ,LOT moves on to Avenue Q in January, and finally, Legally Blonde in March.

The large cast in Joseph might have been daunting to some theatre companies, but the Lower Ossington Theatre had no qualms about putting 27 cast members on its smallish stage along with a nine-member Children's Chorus. Though the stage was often busy, it never looked crowded, a tip of the hat to its young director Robert Wilkinson and choreographer Amelia Hironaka. There were times when you wished the capable cast could have just acted some of the songs rather than danced them, but the plus side was that the production moved well with only a few minor hitches.

Many of the performers and creative artists including the director, are graduates or students of the Randolph Academy for the Performing Arts, with some strong representation from the theatre departments at George Brown College, Ryerson  University, Sheridan College and the University of Toronto. City wide, there are some very talented young people whose work in small, thriving theatre spaces like the Lower Ossington Theatre, has been great for audience exposure.

While the all important role of the narrator who tells the story of Joseph to a group of young schoolchildren, has grown to three in this version (Shannon Dickens, Rebecca Perry  & Jada Rifkin) they're an engaging trio with fine voices, whose interaction with the super talented children's chorus was one of the productions' highlights. That's not to take away from the star of the show, Jeff Hookings, whose Joseph grows from the favored son of Jacob,  to being ostracized by his 11 envious brothers, to the powerful right hand man of the mighty Pharoah. Hookings grows confidently as Joseph climbing the ladder, ever upwardly mobile from poverty to slavery to nobility, and his biggest number Any Dream Will Do, is a solid musical book end to the show which in itself has hardly any spoken dialogue.

One of the real delights in the score is that so many musical genres are parodied starting with the hillbilly, One More Angel in Heaven that Reuben (Mark Willett) and the choir of  Joseph's' brothers sing to the heartbroken Jacob (Jeffrey Bowers)  who thinks his son is dead, the  Song of the Pharaoh rendered as a throbbing Elvis Presley by Adam Proulx, the bleating Those Canaan Days done to a French troubadour turn by Phil Skala, and Andrew Pelrine's  Belafonte beat with the Reggae Benjamin Calypso.  There's even a Charleston and a disco to bring all the musical styles of the period full circle.

The story of Joseph and his amazing coat of many colors seems as old as time, and what's good about it is that it's one that will never go out of style. The production is filled with enough energy and exuberance to take you right into New Year's eve when Joseph and brothers finally fold up their tents and go home. Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat plays at the Lower Ossington Theatre until Dec. 31. 100A Ossington Avenue. Tickets online at www.lowerossingtontheatre.com; Telephone: 416.915.6747. In person: Cash or credit card at our box office.
Photo: Seanna Kennedy Photography. Pictured, Phil Skala as Simeon.
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger).

Mary Poppins

Mary Poppins, that intrepid super nanny with magic at her fingertips, may not stick around long enough to become a permanent part of the Banks family, but she certainly has found a cheering audience at the Princess of Wales Theatre.

A spectacle in every sense of the word, this Mary Poppins outdoes the film version with its special effects and effervescent dance numbers, which isn't too unusual these days for contemporary stage musicals. Ever since the helicopter landing in Miss Saigon back in 1989, stage musicals, those which have the budget and the impetus to expand, have become an elaborate affair. Along with Mary Poppins, Disney's other big staged musicals like The Lion King and Beauty and the Beast, both of which were also adaptations of film musicals, have been larger than life, hugely entertaining and terrific for wide-eyed kids and their parents.

Mary Poppins is not only practically perfect as she so modestly calls herself in one of the new numbers added for the stage version, but the production values of the musical under Richard Eyre's direction are practically perfect as well.  There is a problem with the sound system which seems to be an ongoing tick with so many of the touring musicals, playing havoc with the lyrics and at times the dialogue. Fortunately, most of us could sing along to Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman's popular score with numbers like Chim Chim Cheree, A Spoonful of Sugar and Jolly Holiday.

Bob Crowley's scenic design is superb, not just because it looks good, but because it actually complements the scenes without overwhelming them. Elongated panels of muted colors for the park scenes move in and out seamlessly, while the interior of the Banks two story house is simple and compact enough to have the roof rise above it for the several scenes between Mary and Bert, her one man cheering section. Special kudos as well to lighting designer Howard Harrison for making all those distant chimney tops light up nighttime London.

And what a charmer Nicholas Dromard is as Bert, who has a crush on Mary Poppins. Dromard is a terrific dancer, but moreover has a great personality that reaches to the back of the theatre. Bert and his chimney sweet pals along with Mary and the Banks children, have a rousing good time with Step in Time, one of the songs song by the Shermans adapted from the film musical, and one of several that highlights Matthew Bourne's electric choreography; the same for Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious which remains the one song you can't possibly ever forget, especially if you can say it quickly and several times.  You can, however, forget about spelling it.

Mary Poppins herself, played by Rachel Wallace,  is a tongue in cheek autocrat who never explains herself, never takes no for an answer, and comes and go as she pleases, sometimes in the air. It's not an easy role and one that doesn't lend itself to charm, despite the perks of having some of the best songs in the show and almost always being the center of attention.  As the one character who is not only allowed to have attitude, but bask in it, Woods carries it off very well.

Mary Poppins doesn't just drop in on the Banks' because the kids are rambunctious and they can't keep a nanny. Mary tries to repair George Banks' relationship with his children. Besides being wedded to his job at the bank, and not very responsive to his wife's pleas that she be more than just be a fixture for his social aspirations as a bank executive and head of the house in male dominated 1900 Edwardian England, George is rather a cold fish who is nervous about his job. Laird Mackintosh is almost too stern at the beginning, finally warming to the character when George learns that to get respect from his children, he has to give it as well, or at least a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down. It's part of a lovely duet reprised by George and Bert.

Blythe Wilson as Winifred Banks has all the warmth in the family, a necessary ingredient to keep the Banks home in balance, and Mrs. Banks as a typical if frustrated housewife in the early 1900's. "I want to be more than Mrs. Banks," sings Winifred in the yearning Being Mrs. Banks, another new addition to the stage version and a reminder that Edwardian England wasn't ripe for would be feminists. Mary Poppins author P.L. Travers was extremely unhappy with the flag waving suffragette Mrs. Banks in the film version, portrayed by actress Glynis Johns.

There's a beautiful rendition of Feed the Birds (Disney's favorite song from the film) sung by Janet MacEwan, and a rather scary number (Brimstone and Treacle) rendered with magnum force by Miss Andrew (Q. Smith) as Mr. Banks' old nanny who returns to the Banks household for a brief moment to share her harsh disciplinary measures that made Mr. Banks the man he is. Everyone step aside.

One thing is certain: Mary Poppins is perfect holiday entertainment and thankfully its staying power is longer than nanny Poppins who always seems to be a flight risk.  A co-production of Disney and Cameron Mackintosh, Mary Poppins plays at the Princess of Wales Theatre until Jan. 5. Tickets Online at www.mirvish.com or 416-593-4142 or 1-800-724-6420. 284 King St. West.
Photo; by Joan Marcus. Rachel Wallace as ‘Mary Poppins and Nicolas Dromard as ‘Bert” perform “Chim Chim Cher-ee.” for the National Tour Company of MARY POPPINS. ©Disney/CML.
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

Murder at Twilight

Don't look now but there's a vampire in your soup. The creative folks at Mysteriously Yours Mystery Dinner Theatre, have tuned into the latest craze of vampire romance films and created a neat comedy called Murder at Twilight (A Vampire Murder Mystery). I won't say the comedy outshines the dinner (under the supervision of Chef Rossy Earle),  because the dining at Mysteriously Yours has always been quality fare, but Murder at Twilight turns out to be one of their most delectable offerings thanks to some top notch performances by by veteran Barb Sheffler and the cast.

Sheffler plays a vampire queen called Bella who has the air of Gloria Swanson and an undetectable accent that could be from Transylvania or North Bay. Bella, even at her ripe age of 300 years,  is definitely one of the modern day vampires who along with old-school monsters and humans are getting along fine in the Deep South thanks to the invention of pure plasma, which means they don't have to go for anyone's neck anymore.

But, so the story goes, everyone is gathered at Merlotte' Bar to celebrate the birthday of Spooky Stakehouse (Kimberly Persona), Bon Bon Louisiana's favorite waitress. The VIP list includes her bro Jethro (Ian Ronningen), who is a real charmer if none too bright, Bill Compost (Ian Keeling), Doug Le Chien (Lawrence Prance) and later on, Sheriff Van Helsing (Pierre Trudel). Before long, the murder of the unpopular Reverend Small of the Brotherhood of the Sun, who appears to have those tell tale holes in his neck, doesn't bode well for the reputation of the friendly vampires who don't do those kinds of things anymore, unless the person is already dead. "Dead men have the right kind of blood for a vampire," says Bella. "B Positive."  
 
While you can't take Murder at Twilight seriously - after all it is a send-up - you have to applaud the clever writing by Barb Sheffler, Brian Caws and the cast, who make sure that there's lot of the fun trying to explain the inbreeding of the vampires for 300 years, which makes Queen Bella the great, great, great Grandma of Reverend Small, while every one else has some part in the food chain - if you can keep it straight. At any rate, there's lots of mileage in the joke and the cast takes full advantage of it, relatively speaking. All the more credit to Pierre Trudel as the Sheriff who keeps everything in good running order.

Since the audience is well prepped, just like the appetizers in the kitchen, they've already been acquainted with the players who stroll around the dining room and have a chat with the members of the audiences before dinner is served while enlisting some of them to take part in the play itself.

Mysteriously Yours audience veterans know that while there is lots of relaxed repartee going on between the actors and the diners before the show, the show itself is tightly scripted and once the clues are all in and the audience members have an opportunity to pick the murderer and turn in their votes, the climax is almost the best part. You have a chance to see who outsmarted you and won the Mysteriously Yours cap or t-shirt. P.S. I've never won, but I always return to the scene of the crime. Murder at Twilight plays throughout the holidays and into the New Year. Performances every Friday and Saturday (and select Thursdays) Arrival for Dinner from 6:30pm; Show Time: 8:00pm. Tickets: Mysteriously Yours... (416) 486-7469 or info@mysteriouslyyours.com. 2026 Yonge Street, Toronto.
Photo: Barb Sheffler as Queen Bella.
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

Parfumerie

Parfumerie, the 1937 Hungarian comedy which was brought deliciously to life in an adaptation by Adam Pettle and Brenda Robins, is a welcome revival for Soulpepper Theatre's holiday season. It's better, crisper and funnier than it was first performed in 2009, though that production earned a Dora Mavor Moor Award for Best Production. It plays until Dec. 31, and as a further note, one hopes that it will keep on alternating every other December with Soulpepper's seasonal standard, A Christmas Carol. 

What  is especially fine about the production is that that writers Pettle and Robins, and a wonderful cast repeating their original roles under Morris Panych's superb direction, have made it seem fresh and newly minted though its roots go as far back as pre-war Hungary in the late 1930's, when shops that specialized in ladies' perfumes and cosmetics were the only place to buy your everyday beauty essentials, while handwritten letters in good penmanship were the norm, not the exception. The beauty of it is that the production seems perfectly placed in time without being a time piece.

The story takes place in one of those shops around the corner in central Budapest, designed here by Ken MacDonald in luscious art deco style with a revolving door that's seeing plenty of action due to the Christmas holidays. The shop's elderly owner, Miklos Hammerschmidt (Joseph Ziegler) is a workaholic whose heart is in the right place, though this day, not only is his heart in the wrong place but it's picked up a few more beats that usual. Roaring through the perfumerie like a bull in a china shop, Hammerschmidt suspects his younger and much pampered wife of having an affair with one of his clerks.  His instincts lead him to pin the blame on his once favorite employee, George Atzalas (Oliver Dennis),  a no-nonsense, finicky head clerk who is stunned that he's being treated so badly by his once admiring boss.

Parfumerie not only features some lovely dialogue but is written so economically we're quickly immersed in the everyday lives of the clerks working in Hammerschmidt's shop. The story centres on the efficient George and his prickly relationship with a newer clerk, the attractive Rosie Balaz (Patricia Fagan), neither of whom can stand one another. Both Rosie and George are in love with their secret pen pal whom neither has ever met, extolling their many virtues which are, of course, no less than perfection.  In fact,  Rosie and George, unbeknownst, are each other's pen pal, eagerly awaiting the next letter and planning a rendezvous when they will finally meet their "dear friend" face to face.

The story travels a gracious path in an era when good manners and propriety was of uptmost importance, and even with the extra marital affairs and unfulfilled longings - Brenda Robins as the shy retiring spinster Miss Molnar has a very noticeable yearning for Mr. Hammerschmidt that will never be returned, all the emotions of the heart are touched gently, some more deeply than others.  

Michael Simpson in the role of the avuncular long-time married Sipos, is a treat as the congenial wit, sage and arbiter of almost everything that happens in the shop, especially romance and marriage. When George finally discovers to his horror who his real pen pal is, he tells Sipos, "I'm in love with the person who turns out to be the one who irritates me the most." To which Sipos answers, "Sounds like marriage to me."

Kevin Bundy's Stephen Kadash, an oily lothario whose wandering eye settles on every attractive female who comes into the shop, uses his saturnine good looks for upward mobility at the expense of  others, while the shop's chief gofer, young Arpad (Jeff Lillico) longs to be a real clerk and trade in his delivery bike for a job behind the counter. He gets his wish, only to become a bit brutish himself as he lords it over the new gofer.

Mr. Hammerschmidt's confirmation of his wife's affair by a private investigator he's hired (William Webster) and his realization that George is innocent of the affair with his wife, leads him to the brink of a disastrous act. But he too lives through the heartache, as well as the heart attack he brings on himself, to discover that it often takes an unanticipated misfortune to see things clearly.

As for George and Rosie, well, they also learn that first impressions aren't the most reliable. Like acquaintances in a Jane Austen novel, their letters become the real barometers of their passion for life and the real people who live in between the lines. The final scene is pure joy with Parfumerie's redolent sweetness a real gift to the holiday season. Parfumerie plays until December 31 at the Young Centre for the Performing Arts. 55 Mill Street, Building 49, in the Distillery Historic District. Tickets: The Young Centre box office at 416.866.8666 or by visiting www.soulpepper.ca.
Photo; by Cylla von Tiedemann. L to R: Oliver Dennis and Patricia Fagan in Parfumerie.
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

The Penelopiad

The opening line of Margaret Atwood's staged adaptation of her novella, The Penelope, is a showstopper. As the rush of billowing clouds roll menacingly toward the audience, Megan Follows as Queen Penelope, a new resident in Hades, says solemnly  from  centre stage  "Now that I'm dead, I know everything." Then, immediately, she strikes a tongue-in-cheek pose, Madonna style,  (the singer, not the Virgin Mary) that sets the tone for the Nightwood Theatre's incomparable version of The Penelopiad.

Homer's epic tale of Odysseus, the king of Ithaca and great Greek warrior whose military sojourns to fight the Trojan War, among other feats, has left his faithful wife, Queen Penelope alone for 20 years to fend off suitors for her hand and find solace in the company of her 12 maids. Odysseus is presumed dead.  

It's not clear in the play that either Penelope or her son, the bratty Prince Telemachus  - a very accurate portrait of teenaged angst by Bahia Watson -  or the palace's busybody, a gossipy nursemaid named Eurycleia (Patricia Hamilton) really believe it. Penelope has been holding out on any favors to the suitors after promising Odysseus that she'd be faithful to him.  It's admirable behavior even with the strict social mores of a conscientious ancient Greek wife, especially since Odysseus' reputation as a ladies' man with  the reports of his flings on his way back from Troy with the sorceress Calypso and flirtations with the Sirens, hasn't escaped Penelope's ears. Therein lies the real crux of the story.

Penelope has been using her 12 maids as sex slaves to her own suitors so that she can stay faithful and bide her time in hoping for Odysseus to return.  She begins by befriending the maids as if they were her kinswomen rather than her servants ("Call me Penelope".) Her rules of engagement starts off badly with their brutal rape by the suitors, than continues on with the maids' acquiescence to the men's demands in order to please their Queen.  It's Atwood's take on no matter how suppressed women have been by men,  they haven't spent much effort in being true friends to each other especially where men are concerned.

Penelope's maids, who still hope that their hero Odysseus will come to their rescue,  are all slaughtered by Telemachus under command from Odysseus who does return , still very much on the crest of his physical prowess in order to rid his house of the "filth." Penelope does nothing to convince him otherwise in order to maintain her own pristine image.

Blessed with Atwood's  biting humor throughout, the one who takes best advantage of it  is the wonderful Megan Follows, who has a very clear sense of the irony of in the play, and delivers her lines with such understated wit that you wonder if she's wondered into the wrong play. There's nothing understated about director Kelly Thornton's production, a satiric vaudeville for the most part, in the style of Woody Allan's Mighty Aphrodite married to Oh, What a Lovely War. Very broad and very entertaining,  but at times at odds with the underlying message.

The 12 singing and dancing maids try their best to be funny and tuneful, but the musical routines begin to get annoying after a while. That being said, nearly all the characters in the all-female cast, take on other roles and get top marks, particularly Kelli Fox, who brings out the best and worst qualities of Odysseus, condescending with his very young bride Penelope, at the same time his tenderness awakens her sexually, and later calmly having the 12 maids murdered without a backward glance.

Tara Rosling as Penelope's mother,  is Niad, a cool and collected water nymph, gorgeously dressed in designer Denyse Karn's diaphanous floating sky blue gown, while giving some perplexing pre-marital advice to her own daughter.  "Overcome obstacles by going around them", she tells her.  It's advice that bodes well for Penelope, if no one else, by enabling her to cope with an overbearing philandering husband and fending off a bunch of raunchy suitors by pushing them on to her innocent maids.

Any jealousy that Penelope might demonstrate with her husband's wandering eye, is instead centered on her sister-in-law Helen, the desirable siren with heaven sent beauty who runs off with Paris, precipitating the Trojan War. Pamela Sinha's Helen, a true celebrity who knows her own star power, uses her  long flowing hair like a spider's web, attracting not just the men but the maids as well. One of the best scenes in the play is the middle-aged Penelope, dying to find out if Helen has lost her looks.
 
Denyse Karn's simple set design is especially intriguing,  beginning with those rolling clouds and climaxing with the hanging of the 10 maids, dangling, dancing  ropes being the weapons of choice here while the maids struggle and twitch and finally succumb to their fate while Penelope sleeps soundly.

It's the second act that brings us more into the heart of the play and the darker reaches of Penelope's guilt which she can no longer explain away in the one place where she must confront her own actions with the women she used so cruelly.  There is no biting humor here, only the recognition that in one respect, Penelope was on a par with the men. The Penelopiad runs until January 29, 2012 at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre. 12 Alexander Street. Tickets: (416) 975.8555 or www.nightwoodtheatre.net
Photo: by Robert Popkin. Megan Follows and Bahia Watson in The Penelopiad.
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger).

Red

Red by John Logan, is the second play in the CanStage season where the color red has taken on paramount importance. Earlier on in the season, I Send You This Cadmium Red  at the more intimate Berkeley St. Theatre in a co-production with the Art of Time Ensemble, was a quietly passionate play about the meaning of color in the lives of two artists.

With Red by John Logan, at the larger Bluma Appel theatre in another co-production, this time with both the Vancouver Playhouse and Edmonton's Citadel Theatre, we meet another artist, equally passionate, but far from quiet. CanStage has done well with its one color palette. Red, directed by Kim Collier, plays at the Bluma Appel Theatre until Dec. 17,  and it's a production that is alive with all the sound and fury that the color suggests.

Artist Mark Rothko, a well know American abstract expressionist artist (he rejected that title) was commissioned to create a set of murals for the Four Seasons Hotel in the late 1950's. Broke, Rothko tells his new and naive young assistant Ken, that he needed the $35,000 dollars he was being paid for his work. Though Ken doesn't see that the people dining at the elegant new restaurant in the Seagram's Building where Rothko's work will hang, will pay attention to the work, Rothko is certain that the finished work will be "transformative,"  the centre of attention.

It's a division of opinion that will lead to the final straw in their one-sided relationship. Ken, an art student, who has admired Rothko and his work and listened patiently to Rothko's flagrant arguments about everything from color to critiques of other artists like Andy Warhol, Jasper Johns and Jackson Pollock, and all those who think that "art has to be psychodrama," will mature in front of our very eyes from the start of the play, when as a new "employee," he fetched food, booze, cigarettes and coffee for Rothko, changed the music on the record player and became a willing sounding board. By the end of the two act play, Ken will have become as capable in his reasoning as Rothko and be able to see through the artist's fears and elliptical logic which has burdened his work.

Jim Mezon's powerful performance as Rothko is thrilling to watch and he is mesmerizing as the loud, boorish, self-important, but brilliant Rothko whose indecision was painted in shades of red and black. But the quiet resilience of David Coomber's Ken has strength in its balance and with that, a power of its own.

It's a full stage that director Kim Collier has given to the play, the wide, nearly sparse expanse designed by David Boechler representing the New York studio space of Mark Rothko, large black and red murals on the walls (the infamous "Seagram Murals,"), angled for our viewing pleasure, which will be Rothko's nemesis. In only takes one visit and one meal as a guest in the restaurant where his murals will rest, to convince him that his art would only be used as a decoration. He cancelled his contract with the Four Seasons and returned the commission money. Fame is very fleeting after all,  but in retrospect, it enabled his murals to find a future and more permanent home where they would be admired for what they were and not as an appetizer: London's Tate Museum.

But in Red, Logan unveils some of the man behind the artist, not as much as we would like, but this is a fictionalized account of an event and there's only so much one can reveal in the space of a couple of hours. Logan does manage to cite some of the deep seated anxieties that may have triggered Rothko's extreme depression and led to his suicide in 1970. Beneath the bombast and the insolence, the color black consumed him. "There is only one thing that I fear in my life," he says, early on in the play, "that one day the black will swallow the rest."  It's no wonder he spent hours reflecting on his own spiritual emptiness, ruminating on Nietzsche's The Birth of Tragedy, a philosophy he refers to time and time again in Red.

In the beginning of the play he tells Ken, "I am here to stop your heart, I am here to make you think, I'm not here to make pretty pictures." Red may not endear you to Rothko's art, but the dialectics between the two men is as exciting as you'll hear anywhere and on any stage. "What do you see?" is his opening line in the play and far from being a gambit, it's a question that will haunt him and prompt us to keep our eyes and our minds open. Red plays at the Bluma Appel Theatre until December 17, 2011. Tickets are available online at www.canadianstage.com; by phone at 416.368.3110; or in person at the box office. 27 Front St. E.
Photo: by Bruce Zinger. L to R:Jim Mezon, David Coomber
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

2 Pianos 4 Hands

I've always looked on Ted Dykstra and Richard Greenblatt's marvellous love affair with the piano as a valentine to everyone who ever studied those 88 keys, to everyone who ever endured the same fusty commands to  "curve your fingers," "lower your wrists, " and especially to everyone who had to live through a piano recital with a churning stomach and an audience full of beady eyes just waiting for you to slip on a flat when it should have been sharp.

Back again and better than ever, 2 Pianos 4 Hands with Dykstra and Greenblatt is right on key, a visual and musical treat that's so popular it's been held over at the Panasonic Theatre until  Dec. 4. That shouldn't be too much of a surprise. It's played all over the world since its premiere in 1996 at the Tarragon Theatre, the brainchild of two childhood would-be prodigies who started comparing notes about their experiences studying piano while appearing at Chamber Concerts Canada's So You Think You're Mozart.

There's been lots of things going on for both since then, Dykstra being a first rate actor who has recently starred in Soulpepper Theatre's production of The Kreutzer Sonata, and writer/director/actor Greenblatt who has directed and performed in productions across Canada, most recently for Yichud in Toronto which he starred in and co-directed.  But it's always been 4 Pianos Two Hands that has lingered in the heart of Canadians.

Yes, the former would-be prodigies are considerably older than they were when blonde and curly headed Dykstra (his piano teachers must have loved him) and Greenblatt first conceived the show 18 years ago. But together again at those two pianos facing each other, each one playing himself as a child, as an adult and as a professional, as well as taking turns with a host of piano teachers, moms, dads, their maturity has given the show more depth.

You have to love their interpretations of piano teachers through the years: the nun, Sister Loyola, ever so patient except she had to have her tea and a lie-down after a session with Teddy; Mr. Martin who seemed to bear a resemblance to the scattered Victor Borge; Mr. Scarlatti who had to stretch out on the floor because of his bad back and usually wound up falling asleep; and the never ending battle with teachers of how you should play an arpeggio, with one hand or two. "When you make love to a woman, do you use only one hand,? asked Mr. Scarlatti to an awe struck Ted.

As Ted and Richard grow up, long past their obligatory one-hour practice sessions a day, sneaking out to play hockey, sneaking in some jazz among the Mozart and Chopin, the Kiwanis competitions with a stony faced master of ceremonies who looked as if he were in pain while he dutifully informed the audience of 67 parents that all of the entrants would play the same piece which "should take about 4 hours," through all of the lessons and the teachers and competitions, the two each in their own way try to grapple with the fact that they are not going to be the concert pianists of their dreams, that to make a career out of playing the piano, one could be an impatient teacher or even play in a nightclub with inebriated customers blowing musical selections in your face while you played Piano Man, but neither one was going to be Horowitz playing The Mephisto Waltz at Carnegie Hall.

They would not be the best in the country nor in the city, but probably the best in their neighborhood. Then along came a brilliant idea, to make a musical production out of their experiences as kids growing up with a piano and ambition and the odd loopy teacher, a comedy of course, because how else could you entertain an audience with just a story of two young boys who wanted to play the piano.

Greenblatt and Dykstra are deft comedians both of whom can earn a hearty laugh from the audience with just a single physical movement or a slight expression. Sandwiched in between the sharp humor of a very clever script, the two really know how to play the piano and their musical selections which start with Bach and end with Bach's melancholy Concerto in D Minor (dedicated to the late Tarragon Theatre Artistic Director Urjo Kareda), there is a pretty amazing compilation of classical pieces with the odd popular tunes taking turns.  Given a choice, I don't think either Dykstra or Greenblatt ever regretted not being Horowitz at Carnegie Hall. When you have audiences all over the world cheering you on, that's music to the ears. 2 Pianos 4 Hands plays at the National Arts Centre from Jan. 10 to 28. 53 Elgin St. Tickets:  www.nac-cna.ca or by telephone 1-888-991-2787 or at all Ticketmaster Outlets.
Photo: by Rick O' Brien. L to R: Richard Greenblatt, Ted Dykstra in 2 Pianos 4 Hands
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger for scenechanges.com during the show's run in which ended Jan. 5, 2012 T at Toronto's Panasonic Theatre).

The Wizard of Oz

The opening lines of the new Ross Petty holiday Panto, The Wizard of Oz, sets the pace for this wacky wonderful take off of the L. Frank Baum favorite directed with boundless energy by Tracey Flye. The platinum blonde Good Witch Splenda (Jessica Holmes), dressed like a wedding cake, has come down to Toronto for reasons that are hard to fathom. Well, okay, she's been railroaded by a bunch of her coven followers to bring someone called The Chosen One back to Oz. Fluttering about with a speech impediment that makes her sound like a character from Looney Tunes, she latches on to a female passerby and says breathlessly,  "I'm looking for the chosen one." The passerby gives her a cool glance and answers acidly, "So am I, honey.

Dorothy Gale, played by the vivacious Elicia MacKenzie, who can sing and skateboard at the same time, obviously passing up the Toronto transit system for the better way to go, doesn't take too much to be convinced and off she goes to Oz with Splenda, the wisecracking Auntie Plumbum (Stratford veteran Dan Chameroy) and her little dog Toto, a real live pooch who does a dead pan better than Buster Keaton.

Dorothy, not knowing that she's killed the Wicked Witch of the East, until she sees the ruby slippers sticking out from a big blue garbage bin, is greeted by a  chattering crew who aren't called the Munchkins, but the Aussies (I'll bet you can figure out why), and in quick succession, some of the old familiar faces drop by as well. The friendly lion, called Napoleon here (Steve Ross) or Nap for short, remains everyone's favorite scaredy cat who relies on his pal Fig (Kyle Blair) the dyslexic scarecrow, for moral support.  "We're a very emotional pair," he tells Dorothy.

There are also a singing crew of miners who can't stop flexing their muscles and  singing about their manly prowess, except for one of them who seems clearly out of his element. Donny, played as kind of wandering soul and amateur magician by Yvan Pednault, takes a shine to Dorothy, but then falls in and out of her favor because of a silly misunderstanding. He'll return later as the Tin Man looking for a heart (get it?), a familiar addition to the infamous field of red poppies, gorgeously designed by David Boechler and looking ever so more intriguing than in the MGM film.

The remaining Wicked Witch of the West is in and out of the action, but what a picture she makes: luscious pea green face with fingers as long as ski poles. That's producer Ross Petty of course, who has made a career in his own pantos of being booed by the audience and thoroughly enjoying every minute. Petty joins in several of the musical numbers which are not taken from the MGM film but include pop rock songs like Sweet Dreams are Made of This, with Petty looking a little like Marilyn Manson joining the Eurythmics.

By the time the crew get to the Great Wizard of Oz, there's no fooling around with a booming voice-over as the Wizard tries to hide from his fans. No, Eddie Glen as a rock star Wizard in a flaming carrot colored long wig who's longing to get back on the road again and stop fooling around in Oz, admits he can't really get anyone back to Toronto."Whatever happened to that pink balloon?" asks the Scarecrow. "Maybe I'll use it on my comeback tour," says the Wizard.

You can guess who saves the day - it's Donny, the Tin Man and now disguised as a travelling mountebank, an amateur magician who pulls more than a few tricks out of his hat or from under his handle bar moustache.

While everyone gets a whopping round of applause at the end, the clear favorite seems to be Dan Chameroy's Aunt Plumbum (there's a name that's at odd with reality), spangles, pink tights, outrageous hair, and the best lines in the show. But I draw the line at picking favorites. I personally love the video commercials in between the acts which beside being very clever at supporting your supporters, are hilarious. Eddie Glen as a Toronto Star delivery boy who moonlights at night as the Wizard of Oz, and the Lion and the Scarecrow who invade a Lowe's Home Improvement Warehouse and cause mayhem with the Scarecrow falling in love with a broom and the Lion trying to drink out of a display toilet bowl, is true Panto humor. There's nothing around that's funnier. The Wizard of Oz plays util Jan. 6 at the Elgin Theatre. 189 Yonge St. Tickets can be purchased online at www.ticketmaster.ca, by phone 1.855.599.9090, or in person at the Elgin Theatre Box Office, 189 Yonge Street, Toronto
Photos; by Bruce Zinger. Above, Dan Chameroy as Aunt Plumbum in The Wizard of Oz.
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger).

 
Would You Say the Name of This Play (nggrfg)

Bullying in the schools has become a nationwide problem. The staggering number of school children who miss school every day because of bullying, number about 160,000. It's a topic that has found its way into several  plays for young people, at least two of them produced at Toronto's Young People's Theatre during the last decade: Dennis Foon's New Canadian Kid and Bedtimes and Bullies. The latest, a one-person 70-minute play called Would You Say the Name of This Play?(nggrfg) is aimed at ages 14 and up.

The afternoon I attended the opening of the play, the Studio was filled with high school groups, all of whom seemed pretty tuned into the story of one person's struggle to deal with bullying, racism, and homophobia as a youngster and as a young adult. It's a heavy load to carry but actor/writer Berend McKenzie, who based the play on his own experiences, has used humor throughout to illustrate how much he tried to fit in and to what lengths he went to do it.

McKenzie, who is gay and of mixed parentage, was adopted into a white family at a young age. Playing several characters, young Buddy (McKenzie), is mainly puzzled by comments and slurs which anger his adoptive parents. His father grates his teeth when  he's annoyed at anything which sounds racist, for instance when the family doctor says that Buddy's is lazy and it's probably the result of his mixed-racial background. 

The play goes backward and forward as Buddy encounters bullying in grade school because he loved skipping rope with the girls, and then inches his way into high school where his flamboyant manner is off-putting to the kids in his class. He develops a crush on the  "coolest" if the toughest girl in the class who wears a mohawk hairstyle, and when she agrees to go to a late night party with him, he's in seventh  heaven.

He wants to impress her so badly that like Murphy's Law, just about everything that can, goes wrong. His fashion sense is Rocky Horror, and worst of all, when he's ignored at the party because of his odd behavior, he proceeds to get drunk and heads off to the bush for sex with an anonymous boy where's he's spotted by the others.  His name is mud. He also loses his best friend who didn't know he was gay and won't have anything more  to do with him. It's all downhill after that.

Without any formal training and an obvious love of overstatement, Buddy turns to acting. One of the more humorous vignettes in the show is his audition for a television show in which he's supposed to be a rapper and a gangster, obviously against type. Buddy, who is about as tough as chewing gum while his emulation of a rapper is so outrageously bad it's funny, doesn't get the job. It's one of many.

Mackenzie never really lets us know when his parents discovered he was gay and how it went down with them (he grew up in a small town in Alberta) though we assume they figured it out early on and accepted it since Buddy makes their genuine love for him one of the focal points of the play. But the love of one's parents doesn't t make-up for the all the heartaches that occur when you're  never accepted anywhere else outside of home. Buddy, never in complete harmony with himself and always feeling an outsider, develops alcohol and drug problems.

Eventually, Billy learns that to be accepted by anyone, you first have to accept yourself. Amid the comedy routines he used to camouflage his insecurity, Buddy comes to realize that it's not the words themselves that are negative, but how and why the people use them to hold power over others. It's an easy segue from  Buddy onstage to Berend McKenzie the actor, and the informative discussion period after the play gives  the high school kids in the audience a chance to find out who Berend McKenzie really is behind his scripted dialogue.

Onstage, McKenzie is exhilarating. His positive energy keeps everything moving fluidly, helped by the tight co-direction of Allan McInnis and Tanisha Taitt, and some  terrific lighting by Michael Kruse which separates the vignettes, spotlighting the seemingly ageless McKenzie who can go from a kid of 7 to a twenty plus year-old in a split second.

The old axiom that words can kill would be an apt sub-title for Would You Say The Name of This Play? (nggrfg). While Buddy faced his demons in adulthood after enduring the hard knocks of bullying, racism and homophobia, and emerged a winner, not everyone does. Just listen to the news. Would You Say the Name of This Play? runs until December 3 at the Young People's Theatre Studio. 165 Front St. East. Box Office: 416.862.2222 | Online: youngpeoplestheatre.ca For more information visit youngpeoplestheatre.ca Advisory: strong language & mature subject matter - RECOMMENDED FOR AGES 14 & UP.
Photo: by Danie Alexander. Berend McKenzie in Would You Say the Name of this Play?
(Reviewed by Jeniva Berger)

LONDON ONTARIO
The Grand Theatre

Ed's Garage

Award-winning humorist Dan Needles has developed a franchise with the Wingfield series and his stories of rural Ontario’s characters, their wisdom and their  foibles.  There are people who wouldn’t miss any of these presentations on stage or television.  Many have all the videos.  However, this does not mean that everything that comes from his word processor is going to be a hit.  His new play, Ed’s Garage, stars one of Canada’s most gifted actors.  Rod Beattie has carried an entire repertory company between his ears for more than twenty years and he is almost a guarantee for theatrical success, but he is working in one of Needle’s lesser efforts.

There is certainly nothing wrong with his characters, though some of the dialogue is a bit over-the-top.  The cast of the show, particularly Douglas E. Hughes as the faithful sidekick Nick, is first-rate but the show didn’t quite come together at the opening.  Perhaps it will gel as the run continues, but the easy humour that Needles creates off-stage, among characters you never see, just doesn’t click on the stage itself.  The return of Adrienne Gould to the theatre world is very welcome, and Tim Campbell has good chemistry with her as a couple who are beginning to have feelings for one another.

Dana Osborne’s set allows the audience a good view of Ed’s garage and its environs and the show owes a great deal to effective sound.  Director Douglas Beattie has been a key element in the franchise and he usually makes the most of the material.  Many in the audience appeared quite happy with the production, but perhaps they expected less than I did.  With such good actors, Dan Needles couldn’t hope for better interpreters of his work.  Maybe the material needs tweaking.  Needles has created Canadian literary icons and for this, we owe him a great deal.  Consider this a mixed review. Ed's Garage plays at the Grand Theatre from Jan. 17 to Feb. 4. 471 Richmond St. London, ON. Tickets: Call (519) 672-8800 or click www.grandtheatre.com./
(Reviewed by Ric Wellwood. A London Ontario based freelance theatre critic.)
Photo: Adrienne Gould, Tim Campbell,  Douglas E. Hughes and Rod Beattie