Brian Webb on Betroffenheit, and other matters theatrical for the weekend

Betroffenheit. Photo by Michael Slobodian.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Thoughts from Brian Webb, artistic director of the dance company that’s teamed up with the Citadel to bring Betroffenheit our way this weekend:

“Crystal is the cream!,” says Webb of Crystal Pite, the star Kidd Pivot choreographer who collaborated on the international dance/theatre hit Betroffenheit with Electric Company Theatre playwright/performer Jonathon Young. “She’s unquestionably in the top five, no the top three, in the world.”

“She’s so well read, so into art. And .. she knows how to put on a a show. Her work is so highly entertaining! Hot stuff!”

“She was an amazing dancer herself. And with this is her imagination, her own sense of what dance can be. It’s a strong vision!” Webb refers to the tag line of his own Brian Webb Dance Company, “without the dancing there ain’t no dance!”

Webb is full of admiration for the team of Pite and Young. He looks for an Edmonton equivalent of this kind of creative relationship. “Jonathan Christenson and Bretta Gerecke at Catalyst?” he proposes, thinking of the playwright/director and designer/scenographer who brought us such Catalyst musicals as Frankenstein and Nevermore. “Or (playwright) Stewart Lemoine and the Teatro La Quindicina ensemble?”

These relationships are crucial…. When art comes from the democratic exchange of ideas to make something good, it has to be of equals. And what these two (Pite and Young) come up with is new, exciting, and provocative!”

“Two Canadian choreographers have shaken the world of theatrical dance,” Webb thinks. One is Edouard Lock of La La La Human Steps. The other is Crystal Pite.”

Tonight’s the night! Your chance to see Pite’s collaboration with Young happens tonight through Sunday, three performances only at the Citadel, on this the last tour of the 2015 hit that’s scooped up awards wherever it’s been. You’ll see Webb at all three performances. Check out my 12thnight.ca interview with the playwright Jonathon Young.

Tickets: 780-425-1820, citadeltheatre.com

With Glowing Hearts: A Canadian Burlesque Revue. Photo by db photographics.

•In other stage news, history-making epoque-changing Canadian women take to the stage, in a revival of With Glowing Hearts: A Canadian Burlesque Revue, tonight and Saturday at the vintage Capitol Theatre in Fort Edmonton Park. It’s the work of Edmonton’s intrepid, ever-inventive Send In The Girls troupe. And feminist stormtrooper Nellie McClung (aka Ellen Chorley) presides, in un-corseted fashion. Tickets: fortedmontonpark.ca.

•Just opened: Tiny Bear Jaws’ premiere production of Elena Belyea’s Cleave. Can an intersex hero make his way through the tangled world of pronouns and family dinners? It’s at Fringe Theatre Adventures headquarters, the ATB Financial Arts Barns, in the Backstage Theatre through April 11. 12thnight.ca review. Tickets: 780-409-1910, fringetheatre.ca.

City of Angels, MacEwan University. Photo supplied.

•Ending this weekend: City of Angels, the playfully noir Cy Coleman/ Larry Gelbart musical in which a writer is struggling to turn his detective novel into a movie — before our very eyes. Leigh Rivenbark’s production is onstage at MacEwan University’s Triffo Theatre through Saturday. Tickets: 780-497-4470, boxoffice@macewan.ca

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Cleave, a sense of possibility in contradiction: a review of Tiny Bear Jaws’ latest

Jordan Fowlie and Dave Horak in Cleave, Tiny Bear Jaws/ Fringe Theatre Adventures. Photo by Mat Simpson.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

No wonder we’re screwed up. We’re looking for definitive clarity and judgment in a language full of unruly verbs —  dust, sanction, screen, bolt, cleave — that contain their own opposites.

Cleave: to hold together. Cleave: to separate. The latest from Tiny Bear Jaws and its agile resident muse Elena Belyea, plays with this thought, so full of potential for comedy and its darker dramatic brethren, in a piece that frames the ancient dual quest for identity and connection in a contemporary way. 

The protagonist, for starters, is an intersex kid; talk about upping the ante on teen angst. Seventeen-year-old Aaron has moved from rural Alberta to the big city, in search of high school anonymity, and the official go-ahead for the surgery that will propel his (his choice of pronoun) transitioning to male. And one of the intriguing surprises of Cleave is that, as set forth in Jordan Fowlie’s watchful, compellingly understated performance, Aaron is the most calmly self-knowing character in the play.

This grave outsider, the stranger in town, will have a profound effect on a family: a couple of parents with secrets of their own (one a lot less comprehensible than the other) and two teenage kids. As the Tiny Bear Jaws canon confirms, Belyea is a deft hand at funny, staccato, overlapping dialogue. And Cleave hereby joins the crammed world archive of family dinners gone off the rails when strangers are present, in a chaotic, gruesomely comic scene of crossed wires, unwelcome recognition, unanswered questions, and flying salad.

Awkwardness reigns supreme, including over-heartiness from Paul the dad (Dave Horak) and the mom Carol (Elena Porter). The catalyst for this exercise in group indigestion is a mysterious photo, and an explosive burst of hostility from Pina (Emma Houghton) who has achieved a life goal of being on the cheerleading team. She spends quite some time wearing a paper bag over her head. She has her reasons (you won’t hear them from me). Suffice to say that they aren’t persuasive to her brother Mark, in Luc Tellier’s endearingly nerdy performance the funniest character in the play, but are unqueried by Mark’s new classmate Aaron. The latter, after all, has an outsider’s wide tolerance for differences.

The performances from Sabourin’s cast, including Horak and Porter, have believable real-life weight and dimension to them. Where Cleave founders a bit, I think, is in the gender therapist character Rachel, gamely played by Natasha Napoleao. Her meetings with Aaron — she asks questions; he answers in well-organized long-form —  are rather self-evidently the device the play uses to dole out a quantity of (useful) information about what “intersex” means, the physiological implications, the process of transitioning, how gender questions don’t resolve sexuality issues, etc.

She asks questions, in a smiley therapist way, that the play often addresses in a more elliptical and dramatically satisfying way elsewhere. So there’s a patina of artificiality; the meetings seem to halt proceedings rather than legitimately propel or counterpoint them. OK, Rachel isn’t the first therapist to be a lot less well-adjusted (or -informed) than her client. But by the time, late in the play, she asks Aaron why he wants surgery, she’s demonstrating an out-and-out lack of confidence in the play in which she’s embedded.

Tellier captures in a beautiful, alert way the bruised precocity and innocence of Mark, a science geek bullied at school by gangs of marauding youth who pelt him with luncheon meat. An outcast amongst his peers, he spends his time online, applying to be a volunteer for Mars missions; “you have to die somewhere,” he shrugs cheerfully.

He has a beautifully written, heartbreakingly inconclusive late-play scene with Horak that lingers in the air, a whole coming-of-age in a moment.

Liza Xenzova’s lovely bi-level design, which includes a transformable table or two, is dominated by a screens that, like the contronym verb “cleave” itself, sometimes seem rock-hard opaque and other times revealingly translucent. 

Which brings us back to the sense of possibility in contradiction that Cleave is all about galvanizing. Along with sexuality, gender isn’t necessarily an either-or prescription, the play proposes. You’re in motion on a moveable spectrum, ready to cleave to connections. You find your family (though probably not at dinner); you find love. It’s not a play with pre-ordained answers; it’s hopeful that way. 

REVIEW

Cleave

Theatre: Tiny Bear Jaws presented by Fringe Theatre Adventures

Written by: Elena Belyea

Directed by: Vanessa Sabourin

Starring: Jordan Fowlie, Dave Horak, Emma Houghton, Elena Porter, Luc Tellier, Natasha Napoleao

Where: Backstage Theatre, ATB Financial Arts Barns, 10330 104 St.

Running: through April 7

Tickets: 780-409-1910, fringetheatre.ca

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Gender, sexuality, identity: Elena Belyea’s Cleave asks questions

Cleave, Tiny Bear Jaws/ Fringe Theatre Adventures. Photo by Mat Simpson.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Elena Belyea thinks about the punchy title of her new play with a certain unmistakeable satisfaction. Cleave, after all, has two completely opposite meanings: to pull together and to wrench apart.

Families, those repositories of contradictory impulses, spring to mind, right? And yes, Belyea’s new “comedic drama,” premiering Thursday in a Tiny Bear Jaws production that cleaves to the Fringe Theatre Adventures season, takes us into the cleft heart of a family — and the fortunes of Aaron, who’s 17 and intersex.

Belyea is the fiercely energetic playwright/actor/creator who co-founded a festival, Found, devoted to letting audiences discover theatre in non-conventional, surprising places. Her muse naturally gravitates to theatre outside formal settings. For Belyea’s solo show Miss Katelyn’s Grade Threes Prepare For The Inevitable, slated to tour Alberta and B.C. in May, the theatre is a classroom and we are her cowed and earnest class.  Everyone We Know Will Be Therewhich premiered at Nextfest 2017, invited us to a teen party, in honour of a 17th birthday, at a big suburban house (and back yard) in Westridge. 

For that site-specific bash, the parents (thank god) weren’t home. In Cleave, though, the parents are present, and they’ve got secrets of their own. In the six-character play, happening (in a departure from usual Tiny Bear Jaws practice) in a bona fide theatre, the Fringe’s Backstage venue, Belyea takes us into family life in all its  layers of secrecy and complications of gender and identity. 

Its origins lie in Belyea’s time in the playwriting program at the National Theatre School in Montreal, and the 2015 New Words Festival there. “The inspiration was a curious news article about a husband in China who’d sued his wife for having plastic surgery without telling him, and then producing ‘ugly children’,” says Belyea. “The play has moved away from that, and the article turned out to be a hoax. But the family in the play came out of that.”

Meanwhile, Aaron, the “side character orbiting the family,” increasingly got dramatic traction and “moved to the forefront” of a play the author calls “an ensemble piece.”

“Our hero,” as Belyea describes him, is an intersex kid from rural Alberta who’s moved to Edmonton to continue transitioning to male. “He collides with this family (the parents and a couple of siblings) in ways he did not expect at all!”

Belyea describes Cleave, which won the 2015 Wildfire National Playwriting Competition (and was shortlisted for the 50th anniversary Alberta Playwriting Competition), as an exploration of identity, self-actualization, how we create alter-egos, versions of ourselves — for work, for self-preservation..… Who are we actually?

Aaron has had to consider the question explicitly, viscerally. But all the characters, including Aaron’s “gender therapist,” are up against it, too, in a variety of ways.  

And so is the playwright. Questions like “how do I challenge myself and grow as an artist?” and “who has the right to tell what stories, and portray what characters?” are crucial to Belyea, who identifies as queer. She hired a consultant to assist in verifying the transitioning particulars; she submitted the script to Interact, an American intersex advocacy group that scrutinizes scripts for stage and screen. And she set about casting a trans actor, Jordan Fowlie. “I’m very interested in having a variety of experiences in my work,” she says. 

“What does it mean to feel like you’re on the outside? I feel like all the characters are going through a version of that….”

PREVIEW

Cleave

Theatre: Tiny Bear Jaws and Fringe Theatre Adventures

Written by: Elena Belyea

Directed by: Vanessa Sabourin

Starring: Jordan Fowlie, Dave Horak, Emma Houghton, Natasha Napoleon, Elena Porter, Luc Tellier

Where: Backstage Theatre, ATB Financial Arts Barns, 10330 84 Ave.

Running: Thursday through April 7

Tickets: 780-409-1910, fringetheatre.ca

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Out of trauma and into artistic creation: Jonathon Young talks about the acclaimed dance/theatre fusion Betroffenheit

Jonathon Young, centre, in Betroffenheit, Kidd Pivot/ Electric Company Theatre. Photo by Michael Slobodian.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

The intersection of real life and artistic creation can seldom have been so high-stakes as it is in the acclaimed dance/theatre production that arrives at the Citadel Friday for three performances.

Betroffenheit, which has gathered awards world-wide since its 2015 premiere, is a collaboration between two of this country’s most innovative theatrical experimenters, both with Vancouver roots: the choreographer Crystal Pite of Kidd Pivot and the playwright/performer Jonathon Young of the Electric Company Theatre. The breath-taking thing is that Betroffenheit, which borrows the not-quite-translatable German word for paralyzing post-traumatic shock, was born in real-life trauma. 

In 2009, the life of Young was overtaken by unthinkable tragedy and loss.  His teenage daughter and her two cousins died in a cabin fire on a family holiday at Shuswap Lake.

In time, Young set about making art — that’s what theatre artists do. Art not about the horrific tragedy itself, but about the mind-freezing aftermath to trauma.

On the phone from Seattle, where Betroffenheit played last weekend, Young is musing on the creative impulse that led him straight to Pite — and an artistic partnership with his long-time friend and one of the world’s hottest choreographers.

“I’d been working on my own for quite a while before I reached out to Crystal,” he says in his thoughtful way. “There’s always something I’m consumed by, or can’t stop thinking about…. I’d come up with a series of images, a series of problems I was attempting to solve artistically. And I didn’t know how to do it. Which always piques my curiosity.”

“I didn’t know how to stage it, how to say it,” Young says of the theatrical challenge of Betroffenheit. “How the elements of theatre, the design, lighting, language, the body, space, time could come together and approach some of sort of authentic expression. To approach gigantic, universal themes — tragedy and loss and addiction — without being pat or providing easy solutions.”

Young had moved to Toronto by then, and returned to Vancouver in 2014 to take the helm of the Electric Company, the indie theatre he’d co-founded there with Studio 58 theatre school cohorts Kim Collier, Kevin Kerr, and David Hudgins. 

He’d worked with Pite before, on such Electric Company projects as Studies in Motion,  a fascinating conjuring of the eccentric Victorian stop-motion photography pioneer Eadweard Muybridge (which came to the Citadel in 2010) and a CBC film The Score. But Betroffenheit was their first collaboration from scratch, as co-creators.

Why Pite? Young says, without hesitation, “she’s an image-maker of rare distinction! She writes using the body in space and time…. I’d be creating with someone who essentially writes using a different language. With this subject matter, I always felt I couldn’t approach it in my capacity as a writer without diminishing or reducing it. I needed someone of Crystal’s calibre to co-create with me!”

Young wondered if it should be a one-person show that Pite would direct. “I knew she was interested in theatre, acting, and all it takes to create a work of theatre” — which sets her distinctively apart from other stars of the dance world. But the piece, and Young, acquired the inventive physicality of Pite’s choreography, and a five-member cast of dancers from her own company Kidd Pivot. 

It wasn’t a left-field pairing of companies by any means. The Electric Company, as Young points out, “has always used physicality and imagery to convey aspects of our narrative — without always resorting to dialogue.”

As one example, Brilliant!, The Blinding Enlightenment of Nikola Tesla, the show the company brought to the Magnetic North Festival in Edmonton in 2004, imagined the turn-of-the-century rivalry between the immigrant inventor and the homegrown Thomas Edison as a tap-dancing contest. Beyond its biographical revelations, Studies in Motion, poised on the frontier of art and science, was a celebration of the physical being, the human body moving through space.

“For many years Crystal has been using text and character and narrative in her contemporary dance work,” Young says. “She skirts the edge of narrative more than more choreographers…. and it’s so powerful, so beguiling and mysterious. She has a way of deconstructing ideas of plot and character, and translating them into the body….”

Betroffenheit. Photo by Michael Slobodian.

It seems remarkable, incredible, that someone in Young’s circumstances could galvanize the creative energy for an exploration on the Betroffenheit scale. Young considers. “I would never have undertaken it in a state of acute shock myself,” he says. “Many years had passed. And there was something in my core that needed to be expressed and investigated….

“One of the false ideas one gets when one is affected by trauma, sadness, depression, tragedy of any kind is that it’s somehow so unique and precious that one has to be laid to waste, paralyzed by it. There’s a chapter when you have to give over to it. In another chapter you can’t afford inaction due to despair….”

By 2013, Young had discovered the term “betroffenheit” (in a book by an American theatre director). And he was applying it to Hamlet in interviews as he rehearsed the role of theatre’s great procrastinator for a Collier production at Vancouver’s Bard on the Beach. “Anyone who plays Hamlet has to bring all of himself to the part — and then realize at some point that all of himself isn’t enough. Which is Hamlet’s predicament.”

Hamlet as a warm-up for Betroffenheit? Now, there’s an epic challenge. “Hamlet is grieving. he’s alone, he’s traumatized, he’s facing his greatest moral dilemma. It’s a similar self-exploration,” says Young of the tragic character he plays in Betroffenheit. “The difference with Hamlet is the words are there for you. You just have to find the fortitude to live up to them….”

In Betroffenheit, what you won’t see onstage is the terrible event of 2009 itself. Says Young, who is a notably articulate person in every way, “it was never our intention to create something to create something deliberately or overtly autobiographical. Or personally therapeutic. We worked against that: we didn’t want it to feel confessional….

“Crystal and I were determined to explore experiences shared by all, to investigate the power, the absurdity, the courage it takes to contend with them. The darkness and the light, I guess.”

Betroffenheit. Photo by Michael Slobodian.

Pite, who has string of  commissions from the major dance companies of Europe, takes the lure of addiction, and the haunted protagonist, into the realm of the physical with a dark phantasmagorical cabaret of dancers who reinvent every sort of dance, even tap, with the logic of nightmare. 

Young describes the creation of Betroffenheit as organic. But when Young and Pite sat down in 2013-2014 — long before their exploratory workshops at the Banff Centre — they had no idea what it would be. “None!” declares Young. “We had to find a language…. We were friends. But there’s nothing like sitting together in a studio and beginning to share ideas. So vulnerable and intimate.”

Like him, Young says, Pite feels “activated and alive when we’re pulled into challenges….” Since Betroffenheit, Young has worked with Pite on two commissions from the Nederlands Dans Theater, Parade and The Statement. They’re currently collaborating on a new collaboration, Revisor (he agrees the title has a sinister ring), which expands some of the themes and ideas of Betroffenheit. It’s a year away from opening night.   

If Young and Pite had ever wondered whether Betroffenheit would find a larger audience beyond Canadian borders, those days are long gone. The show has played around the world, with subtitles for the voice-over text translated into French, Spanish, Italian, and Chinese. Amongst its many accolades is the 2017 Olivier Award, Britain’s highest stage honour.

The current international tour — “the last one” as Young says — that brings Betroffenheit to Edmonton (as a joint presentation of the Brian Webb Dance Company and the Citadel, has taken the show to Europe, Down Under, and Taiwan. In June, the grand finale at the Festival TransAmériques in Montreal brings to a last curtain call a journey that began in the unknown, and found its first audience in Toronto in 2015. 

Young, who splits his time between Toronto and Vancouver these days, is a questing spirit. “It’s a complex discussion, to put a fine point on what art is for,” he muses. In the end, he thinks, art is “about communication, communicating the shared experience of being alive — so we can see each other and be fascinated. By life. “

That, he proposes is “the strange potential bound up in terrible experiences, that one gains deeper insight, and hopefully some strength. And compassion for those who struggle more often, and suffer more easily.”

PREVIEW

Betroffenheit

Theatre: Kidd Pivot/ The Electric Company Theatre

Presented by: Brian Webb Dance Company, Citadel Theatre

Written by: Jonathon Young

Directed and choreographed by: Crystal Pite

Where: Citadel Theatre

Running: Friday through Sunday

Tickets: 780-425-1820, citadeltheatre.com

  

  

  

  

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Onstage: a weekend theatre update

City of Angels, MacEwan University. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Your weekend could include a musical. There’s a couple to choose from, and though both are a challenge (for very different reasons) for the form, they’re at opposite ends of the musical spectrum

•One of the funniest musical comedies in the repertoire is onstage in MacEwan University’s new Triffo Theatre. City of Angels, a 1989 collaboration between a couple of real pros, tunesmith Cy Coleman and that wittiest of writers Larry Gelbart (of M*A*S*H fame), takes us into the storied land of ‘40s Hollywood — jaded screenwriters, hard-boiled film noir private eyes and long-legged dames, terrifying studio bosses, a lot of ulterior motives.

“Three million people in the City of Angels in the last census, easily half of them up to something they don’t want the other half to know.”

The double-optic story is a private-eye thriller framed as a Hollywood story. Our beleaguered hero Stine is labouring to fashion his detective novel as a screenplay for a megalomaniac producer. Meanwhile he’s harried by his ex-wife, the Hollywood machine (where “the envy is so thick you can cut it with a knife lodged in every other back”)— and fictional characters from his work-in-progress, including his Philip Marlowe-esque alter-ego, detective Stone. The jazzy, tuneful 40s-vintage score by expert stylist Coleman includes a great duet for Stine and Stone, You’re Nothing Without Me.

Leigh Rivenbark’s MacEwan production runs through March 31.

Children of God, by Corey Payette, Urban Ink Productions at the Citadel. Photo by David Cooper

• Corey Payette’s Children of God tells the epic tragedy of Canada’s shameful residential school program by focussing on one forcibly-fractured family: a mother and two siblings. In an unusual choice, it pairs this saddest of stories with a pop score. Payette wrote Children of God, composed the music and lyrics, and directed the Urban Ink production — the first Indigenous production ever on the Citadel mainstage, an historic event — running through March 24. Have a look at the 12thnight.ca Children of God review. 

Your last chance this weekend for …

Poison, a much-awarded Dutch drama (by Lot Vekemans) about the long-terra effects of grief, Jim Guedo directs two of Edmonton theatre’s finest actors Nathan Cuckow and Amber Borotsik in this Wild Side production, part of Theatre Network’s Roxy Performance Series. See the 12thnight.ca Poison review. 

Garett Ross and Jenny McKillop in Outside Mullingar, Shadow Theatre. Photo by Marc J Chalifoux.

Outside Mullingar, a charming rom-com compendium of Oy-rishness by Patrick Shanley at Shadow Theatre, directed by John Hudson. Check out the 12thnight.ca Outside Mullingar review

Do This In Memory Of Me/ En mémoire de moi, a collaboration between Northern Light Theatre and L’UniThéâtre and available either in English or français in alternative performances. Attention: God. In 1963 Montreal, 12-year-old Geneviève prays for an exception to the inexplicable rule that girls can’t be altar servers. Watch a Catholic mind free-associating wildly in Cat Walsh’s new dark comedy, premiering in a Trevor Schmidt production at La Cité francophone.  Here’s the 12night. ca review.  

Continuing through April 1 at the Mayfield Dinner Theatre is The Ladies Foursome, an 18-hole bonding comedy set on the links. It’s by Norm Foster, this country’s most-produced playwright. Jim Guedo directs. 12thnight.ca review.   

   

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Come From Away is featured in the upcoming 20th anniversary Broadway Across Canada season

Come From Away. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Next season on the Jubilee Auditorium stage, you’ll be seeing a homegrown Canadian musical that celebrates the generous and inclusive spirit of this country at its best.

The grand finale of the upcoming 20th anniversary season of Broadway Across Canada is Come From Away. The hit musical, by the Canuck husband-and-wife team of Irene Sankoff and David Hein, is the heartwarming story of the small Newfoundland town (Gander) that welcomed 7,000 stranded passengers from diverted flights in the week following the terrorist attacks of 9-11 — the terrible day that the world seemed to end. 

It started modestly, in a workshop production at Sheridan College in Ontario. And about a year ago, Come From Away came from away and stormed Broadway, accumulating rave reviews in that tough-minded theatre stronghold, and defying odds in the process (it’s still hard to get a ticket there). Since then, it’s accumulated awards, including the best director Tony for director Christopher Ashley.

The touring production arrives here March 12 to 17, 2019.

Beautiful: The Carole King Musical. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

Before that, you can feel the earth move under your feet with the season-opener, Beautiful: The Carole King Musical. The 2013 jukebox musical, which arrived on Broadway the following year (and won two Tony Awards and a Grammy), tells the story of the rise to stardom of the prolific creator of a dazzling array of indelible songs — You’ve Got A Friend and (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman among them. King’s Tapestry remains one of the best-selling albums of all time. Beautiful runs Nov. 6 to 11.

The Illusionists. Photo supplied

Arriving here New Year’s Day, 2019 (and running through Jan. 6) is The Illusionists, a high-tech Broadway magic show featuring five top-drawer illusionists.

The optional season additions include two returning hits: the re-thought re-staged version of Les Misérables (July 3 to 8, 2018) and The Book of Mormon, the much-awarded musical comedy/satire that continues to be a hot ticket in New York and London. It’s been here twice before, in sold-out runs in 2014 and 2016, and enthusiasm shows no signs of abating any time soon.

And here’s a sneak reveal of Broadway Across Canada’s 2019-2020 season: it includes the highly original 2017 Tony Award winner Dear Evan Hansen by the hip young team of Benj Hasek and Justin Paul (of La La Land and The Greatest Showman fame).  Subscribers to the upcoming anniversary season get first crack at Dear Evan Hansen tickets.

Starting today, new subscribers to the 2018-2019 season can acquire season packages at 1-866-542-7469 or broadwayacrosscanada.ca

   

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Three musicals and two plays: a new season announced at the Mayfield

Mayfield Dinner Theatre

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

In the course of next season on the Mayfield Dinner Theatre stage, announced this week by artistic director Van Wilmott, audiences will find themselves watching one of the great contemporary farces, as well as a hit musical.

Neither constitutes typical “dinner theatre” fare. But then, under Wilmott, the commercial theatre company ensconced in the 450-seat house (with banquettes), has consistently expanded the theatrical horizons of that term.

The frantic 1986 door-slammer, by the master farceur Ken Ludwig (Moon Over Buffalo, the book for Crazy For You ), is Lend Me A Tenor. Set in Cleveland 1934, it involves the chaos unleashed,  incrementally, by the arrival of the world-famous tenor Il Stipendo to sing the lead role in Verdi’s Otello. And the role of Max, the nerdy opera company gofer who has to actually get the star onto the stage, against escalating odds, is one of the juiciest in the repertoire.

Dave Horak of Edmonton Actors Theatre (Burning Bluebeard), an artist seasoned in the byways of zany vintage comedy, directs. The casting awaits.

The musical is Sister Act, a 2011 Broadway hit fashioned (by Alan Menken and Glenn Slater) from the Whoopi Goldberg movie. At the centre of a piece that Wilmott describes, very accurately, as “misbehavin’ nuns,” is an aspiring disco diva with a mobster boyfriend in ‘70s Philadelphia. Jim Guedo, whose student production of Sister Act opened MacEwan University’s new Triffo Theatre in the fall, will direct the musical on the Mayfield stage.

That central character, who hides out in a convent when she inadvertently witnesses her boyfriend off a guy, is a tricky star role to cast, Wilmott acknowledges. “Deloris is a tough sing, but she has to be funny…. “ He and Guedo will audition widely. “But, at the Mayfield we always try to cast as much as we can here,” says Wilmott.

Recent seasons have validated that goal many times over, witness Van Wilmott’s practice of hiring local actors from our elite supply. Three of the four actors in Norm Foster’s The Ladies Foursome, currently running (through April 1), are from Edmonton, for example.

Mayfield Dinner Theatre

In a departure from his usual summer programming, Wilmott will run a play instead of a musical in the summer in 2019. “I’ve been wanting to do it for many years,” says Wilmott of Sleuth. The devious, elaborately plotted 1970 Anthony Shaffer comedy thriller/ satire is a veritable hall of mirrors, a puzzle for lovers of games. A rich old-school mystery writer invites his wife’s lover to his remote countryside stronghold, and presents him with a proposition.

Actor/ director Marti Maraden, whose long list of credits includes many seasons at the Stratford Festival (including time as co-artistic director) and the National Arts Centre, directs. Casting hasn’t been finalized; “the actors have to be really on their game!” says Wilmott. 

His 2018-2019 season opens with another revue bio-pic “icon” show by the mysterious Will Marks. As per this current season’s opener Soul Sistas, Two Good Knights features the oeuvre of two legendary, very different artists: Sir Tom Jones and Sir Elton John.

“I’ve played my share of Tom Jones (music) over the years,” laughs Wilmott. “But there were many things I didn’t know about his story…. This is all about how to get the music and that info out there without a narrator’s announcements!”

“In the ‘70s, Elton John sold a gazillion records; he tied with McCartney…. I remember his tunes from high school!” And Elton John has been hugely influential in every cause he’s embraced.

In the popular holiday season slot — traditionally the most popular at the Mayfield box office — is another Will Marks musical compendium, Canada 151. “We’ve been saving the Canadian content for this!” says Wilmott of the musical archive which the new show mines. Horak will direct one of the two Will Marks productions.

Meanwhile the current season continues. Up next (April 10 to June 10) is All Shook Up, a jukebox musical crammed with Elvis tunes in a framework by New York veteran Joe DiPietro (I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change). You don’t really need to know that it’s (very) loosely spun from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.

And the grand finale (June 15 to July 29) is Forever Plaid. The 1989 international Off-Broadway hit is a jukebox musical fashioned from ’50s guy group “close harmony” tunes, and framed by a story of The Plaids, hopefuls who return from beyond the grave to give the concert they never got to sing when they fatally collided with a busload of Catholic school girls en route to see the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show.

Subscriptions and tickets: 780-483-4051, mayfieldtheatre.ca

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Can life move forward after great trauma? Poison, a review

Nathan Cuckow, Amber Borotsik in Poison, Wild Side Productions. Photo by Ryan Parker.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

The unexpected thing about Poison isn’t its intensity. After all, its starting point is unimaginable loss. No, the unexpected thing about Poison, as you’ll see in this stunningly acted Wild Side production directed by Jim Guedo, is how intensely gripping it is to watch how two people deal with the poison of the past as it’s infiltrated the present.

If Poison had been primarily about demanding access to your hankie supply, it would have joined a long line of missing-child dramas on stage and screen. But this award-winner from the Dutch playwright Lot Vekemans is about grief and what to do with it, not the breath-sucking moment of impending loss. And the characters enter that world, where the chemistry has been changed forever by bereavement, 10 years in.

Two people, arriving separately, are in a setting (designer: Guedo) of cold geometric white cubes, so unadorned, and clean it could be the antechamber of a hospital room for anonymous plastic surgery, or an avant-garde art gallery before an exhibition gets mounted. The two people were a couple; they aren’t now.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” the man (Nathan Cuckow) named only He says at the outset. And that conventional greeting will have a meaningful reverb — and tragedy — to it as we discover in the course of this short, austere, and compelling play. The encounter is, and remains, awkward. “It’s quiet here,” He says nervously. “It usually is in cemeteries,” She (Amber Borotsik) says, with an unmistakeable edge.

Ten years ago, their son Jakob was killed in an accident. And since then, apparently, they haven’t seen each other. They’re come together at the cemetery to attend to a plan to move 200 of the graves; poison has been seeping into the ground.

There’s a lot of tense and watchful silence in Poison, short though it is. Making a coffee from a machine, or getting a glass of water from the cooler seem momentous. We learn things gradually, in little stingers.

Is grief a sealed-room mystery? There isn’t just one way to deal with a great trauma: there’s moving on carrying grief with you, and there’s staying put, rooted to the ground soil of grief. He, a journalist, was the one who left, on the millennial New Year’s Eve, at 7:10 p.m.; and he has a new life and love in France. She has remained on location, alone, tending the grave, steeped in sorrow.

For her, time has stopped. Things, She says, “were never the same again.” And there’s a nuance of accusation in her tone as she says to him, “you think you’re in control of your own suffering.”

He grapples with that tone. It’s “‘I miss him’ versus ‘I think about him every day’.” The nuances are delicate, and they’re explored as a painful excavation of wounded souls by these two fine actors. He thinks she’s given herself over to grief; she thinks his attempts to move on with his life, to try and start again, are a form of escape.

Nathan Cuckow, Amber Borotsik in Poison, Wild Side Productions. Photo by Ryan Parker.

And then there’s the existential question “if it’s always going to be like this, what’s the point of going on?” Across Borotsik’s face flickers every emotional nuance of a terrible self-knowledge. Indeed, He nailed it inadvertently  the outset: She hasn’t changed a bit. She’s trapped in a torturing stasis in her life. But she stomps quickly on and offstage in her boots, planting her feet, never removing her coat.

Cuckow’s character, physically slower in his movements, ventures through thought more tentatively; every possible nuance of anxiety is at his disposal. He proposes a possible line of consolation that involves giving up on expectation. And what seeps into the fabric of the play is a sense of the intimate relationship that once was.

And, surprisingly, the play surprises us — with its liveliness, its sense of possibilities both accepted and rejected.

Anyhow, before I torture you any further with sentences like that one, I just want to assure you that, sorrowful as Poison is, it will grab hold of all of you, not just head for the eye-watering part of the emotional spectrum. Besides, the production is a chance to see two of our finest actors at work with two questing characters in the most demanding sort of chamber piece. Don’t miss. 

REVIEW

Poison

Theatre: Wild Side Productions in the Roxy Performance Series

Written by: Lot Vekemans (translated by Rina Vergano)

Directed and designed by: Jim Guedo

Starring: Amber Borotsik, Nathan Cuckow

Where: Theatre Network at the Roxy (8529 Gateway Blvd))

Running: through March 25

Tickets: 780-453-2440, theatrenetwork.ca

    

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The theatre of the supernatural: Cat Walsh’s Do This In Memory Of Me, a review

Nicole St. Martin and Steve Jodoin in Do This In Memory Of Me, Northern Light Theatre and L’UniThéâtre. Photo by Epic Photography.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Do This In Memory Of Me, a strange and captivating new coming-of-age comedy by Cat Walsh, takes us into the richly decorated, permeable mind of a highly imaginative 12-year-old Catholic girl. 

Geneviève’s is a mind with an open door policy, invaded by lurid imagery, grotesque pageantry, decapitated saints, the mysteriously undead dead —  interchangeably with Geneviève’s dad making prosaic demands about school lunches. And since it’s the ‘60s in Montreal and the world is changing, the expansive world of Geneviève’s mind includes vistas from the the starry firmament and flying Russian dogs circling the earth in space ships and challenging the idea of heaven.

This kind of sensory free-association is a challenge, and an invitation, to the joint forces of Northern Light Theatre and L’UniThéâtre. And the ingenious theatricality of this premiere production directed by Trevor Schmidt, with its wonderful projections by Matt Schuurman and eerie soundscape by Darrin Hagen, embraces both raucous comedy and a kind of spooky magic.

Religion is a theatre of the supernatural, after all. And one of its most enduring attractions  is the possibility that death isn’t final, that prayer works, and the invisible has stage presence.

Nicole St. Martin in Do This In Memory Of Me, Northern Light Theatre and L’UniThéâtre. Photo by Epic Photography.

Schmidt’s design is a simple chamber with two doors, as in  Roman farces, embedded in a tall curvilinear curtain. And the traffic through the doors, and the play of Schuurman’s projection-scape across the curtain — above the earth, underwater, in Geneviève’s mind, in church — is constantly surprising and fun. Geneviève’s agile mind is lighted by Beth Dart. 

Back to the story and her predicament. Geneviève’s dream is to be an onstage player in the theatre of the church, as an altar server. She’s rehearsed the choreography (“turn left, genuflect, put the bells down quietly…”). And then Geneviève (Nicole St. Martin) comes up smack against the no-girls rule of her parish, as reinforced by the ancient wheezer Father Paul (Brian Dooley in fine comic fettle). He permits himself a flicker of incredulity at the request before he returns to his continuing campaign for a boy to fill in for his star altar boy Martin (Steve Jodoin). After all, as Father Paul points out, Jesus chose 12 men to be his disciples; if he’s wanted a woman he’d have recruited one.

She prays for an exemption from the rule. She has deal-making conversations with God, a sort of 12-year-old French-Canadian Catholic Tevye. If you’ve ever wondered whether your prayers are getting duly processed up there, or tossed into some sort of bottomless to-do bin and forgotten, or they’re just dissolving into the ether as you formulate them, this is the play for you. And Geneviève is a girl after your own heart.

There’s a kind of freewheeling imaginative energy to this that blithely dispenses with segués, and Walsh is a funny writer. God is being maddeningly close-mouthed. But St. Pancras of Rome, an obscure patron saint of children, shows up. He turns out to be a rather riotous and sulky 14-year-old martyr who cracks wise, shows off his decapitated head, and airs at length (possibly a little too much at length) his own grievances about his relative obscurity in the modern competitive world of saints. “I’m very popular in Europe.”

Her mom’s continuing absence is a mystery on which Geneviève’s dad (Dooley) can’t or won’t shed any light. But when lead altar boy Martin vanishes on the way home from hockey practice, Geneviève’s prayers seem to have been answered, in a particularly lethal way. Is she guilty of inciting divine intervention? Is her mother’s absence a coincidence? Is the adult world not only obstructionist by evasive? Something happens to open Geneviève’s eyes to the disconcerting possibility that certainty is an illusion. There are some questions — even simple ones like “where’s mom?” — that just remain unanswerable. 

As a plucky, curious, quick-thinker of a kid, Nicole St. Martin is winsome. You have to respect the way her pigtails quiver responsively in indignation when she’s up against injustice. As the breezy Martin, never seen without a hockey stick in hand, Jodoin is very funny. And Dooley turns in detailed performances on the obverse sides of the paternal coin: the sad, struggling father and the change-resistant old Father. Geneviève’s dad is a particularly touching portrait of a man who can feel his credibility, and authority, slipping away.

Life is mysterious. The great big world, with its connections to the invisible, is full of proof of that. What you lose in certainty, you gain in possibility. And the crazy beauty of that thought is where the play and this playful production come together.  

REVIEW

Do This In Memory Of Me/ En mémoire de moi

Theatre: Northern Light Theatre and L’UniThéâtre

Written by: Cat Walsh (translated by Manon Beaudoin)

Directed and designed by: Trevor Schmidt

Starring: Nicole St. Martin, Steve Jodoin, Brian Dooley

Where: La Cité francophone, 8627 91 St.

Running: through March 25, alternate performances in English and French

Tickets: northernlighttheatre.com and lunitheatre.ca

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The fun of Oy-rish charm: Outside Mullingar, a review

Garett Ross and Jenny McKillop in Outside Mullingar, Shadow Theatre. Photo by Marc J Chalifoux.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

The fabled Irish countryside connection between man and The Land has a kind of crackpot quirkiness in this charmingly wispy 2014 Oy-rish rom-com by the redoubtable American playwright John Patrick Shanley, of Moonstruck and Doubt fame.

And John Hudson’s Shadow production of Outside Mullingar, led by the most charming of duos Jenny McKillop and Garett Ross, goes along with the sport of this highly enjoyable repository of Irishness.

Peppered with Shanley’s jokes about Irish morbidity, eccentricity, and the storied Emerald Isle lyrical streak, the framework is a feud. And it’s about The Land. The Muldoons and the Reillys have lived for years on side-by-side farms. And for the last 30, they have taken sustenance from an argument about a strip of land between the two.

Designer Daniel Van Heyst provides a movable piece of Irish Lego cottage real estate, that reconfigures itself into kitchens and porches belonging to one party or the other (lighted by Ami Farrow).

The latest from the feud — as we learn in the divertingly non-stop looped arguments of the long introductory scene — is that Anthony (Ross), a lugubrious 42-year-old with a perpetual defeated slump to him, is about to be denied his rightful inheritance of the Reilly farm by his energetically feisty old widower da (Glenn Nelson).

Coralie Cairns, Jenny McKillop, Glenn Nelson in Outside Mullingar, Shadow Theatre. Photo by Marc J Chalifoux.

“You take no joy in it,” declares the old codger defending his decision. “You don’t stand on the land and draw strength from it.” He’s also critical of Anthony’s resemblance to the Kelly side of the family. And Kelly is so cracked he “put his dog on trial for slander.”

Even tart-tongued old Aoife Muldoon (Coralie Cairns), a widow of three days standing, is appalled by this wayward behavior of a father toward a son. She’s in old Tony’s kitchen having a lengthy gab with him. They are discussing, yes, The Land, funerals, and their imminent demises and other larky Irish matters. “Was I only born to bury and be buried?” she asks rather cheerfully. He agrees. No subject is too grim for the Irish sense of humour.

Anyhow, Anthony’s opposite number in the Muldoon clan is Aoife’s daughter Rosemary (McKillop), a sparky pipe-smoking Irish lass who berates the chronic bachelor for his damp and spiritless melancholy.  ““I’m more with nature than people,” he says morosely. “You’re a bit of a lump,” she retorts. “You’ve got to push back.”

She doesn’t hate Anthony, she explains. She just doesn’t like him, and has had a grudge against him since he pushed her down. Age six. Ah, there’s Ireland for you.   

Naturally, this being a romantic comedy, the hostility and incompatibility set forth here means that Rosemary and Anthony are destined for each other. If rom-coms are all about the obstacles between two parties who are clearly, inevitably, meant to be together, you have to hand it to Shanley. He serves ‘em up and keeps ‘em coming in Outside Mullingar.

There’s temperament, there’s resistance, there’s opposing attitudes to, yes, The Land (turns out Rosemary owns the disputed strip). And then there’s a sudden turning into the utterly wacky with a “dark secret” revelation that no one could possibly see coming . Which isn’t really fair. But, damn, it’s just so kooky it stops you in your tracks, which may not be something you should be doing in the middle of a play.

Anyhow, on the one hand, we have a man who looks at the ceaseless downpour outside and notes that it’s “a great day for the rope.” Ross is excellent at creating a portrait of a sensitively morose soul in a state of perpetual, and indeed philosophical, sorrow. “Is a man who does what he must though he feels no pleasure less of a man than one who’s happy?” Anthony wonders this. And Ross is just the actor to fashion this existential position into a comic character.

On the other we have a woman who is animated by her loneliness into a state of exasperated desperation — and is brave enough to take the first steps toward confessing it. And McKillop is lovely, and funny, as the woman who briskly wrestles doubts, his and hers, to the ground, in a last flying leap towards happiness.

The scene in which the pair finally, fatefully tangle is a comic gem of advances (hers) and dim incomprehension (his). And romantic to boot: love as an achievement under the circumstances. They earn their Guinness.

The actors, including Nelson and Cairns, enter into the jaunty gallows humour of Shanley’s American compendium of everything Irish, in an Irish accent (and here for St. Paddy’s Day). It never seems quite real, except when the McKillop/Ross chemistry takes over. But reality isn’t really the point. Something more like storybook charm is the point.

I mean, how can you resist a line about a dour someone who “only loved life when he was in bed. Or eating beef.”

REVIEW

Outside Mullingar

Theatre: Shadow

Directed by: John Hudson

Starring: Jenny McKillop, Garett Ross, Coralie Cairns, Glenn Nelson

Where: Varscona Theatre, 10329 83 Ave.

Running: through March 25

Tickets: 434-5564, shadowtheatre.org

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