‘The perfectly perfect family’ does Christmas: Krampus: A New Musical at Workshop West, a preview

Krampus: A New Musical, Straight Edge Theatre at Workshop West. Photo by David Son.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

It’s beginning to look a lot…. Two original, bona fide homegrown holiday musicals return this week to the stage — both unconventional, both expanded and enhanced from their 2023 editions — to deck the halls. Well, two different halls, and for that matter two different definitions of deck.

To help support 12thnight.ca YEG theatre coverage, click here. 

[Grindstone’s Die Harsh, opening Friday at the Orange Hub, isn’t exactly a case of donning now our gay apparel. Artistic director and co-creator (with Simon Abbott) Byron Martin talks to 12thnight.ca about the musical comedy merger of action thriller and A Christmas Carol here.]

Straight Edge Theatre’s Krampus: A New Musical might have the oddest Yuletide provenance of all. For one thing, the macabre Christmas musical comedy by Stephen Allred and Seth Gilfillan premiered during a midsummer heat wave, at the Fringe. I remember seeing it at noon on a sultry August day, when it would have been possible to dream of a white Christmas as a purely speculative activity.

Krampus: A New Musical, Straight Edge Theatre at Workshop West. Photo by David Son.

“Actually I thought it was perfect for Fringe,” laughs Gilfillan. “We’ve been doing shows that are progressively more crazy and kooky anyhow.” Says Allred, “and you’re not facing much competition from other Christmas shows in August.” The Straight Edge production directed by Allred returns Friday, this time in “fuller form,” as part of the Workshop West Playwrights Theatre season at the Gateway (it’s WWPT’s first Christmas show).

And with it, a dark and funny take on those old Christmas heartwarmers about family, and being home for Christmas, and togetherness and goodwill and all that. Yup, for this the season of family dysfunction, a beady-eyed musical that sees behind the twinkling facade. We meet Rhonette (Amanda Neufeld), the fiercely competitive matriarch, whose Christmas decor cannot be bested. We meet cowed, mild-mannered dad (Jacob Holloway) and the offspring Billy and Tilly. Something dark and sinister is lurking. What could it be? (hey, this is a preview; you have to see Krampus to find out).   

Allred and Gilfillan, partners in life and in theatre, belong to an exclusive subset of busy musical-writing teams. The former is a dentist (he graduated in 2015); the latter is a pharmacist. If you want to talk to them, try 8 a.m. on Sunday morning. And they “crossed paths” nine years ago, not over a prescription (or, god forbid, a root canal), but when Gilfillan was watching an Allred Fringe show.    

Allred and his Straight Edge co-founder Bethany Hughes have been doing shows under that banner since 2014, with a history that starts with Bat Boy and includes (Adam Gwon’s) Ordinary Days and Evil Dead The Musical, before the Straight Edge originals began. That was with Cult Cycle in 2018 — by Allred, Hughes and Gilfillan, with music by Daniel Belland — which uncovers a murderous cult waiting for resisters to fat-burning fitness culture.

Allred grew up singing in church choirs, at school, in bands, in theatre. His creative muse always involves musical theatre, he says. “As a performer myself, I’m drawn to the vocal aspect of it.” Gilfillan says, modestly, “I like writing stories; I write music; I had no performing training.” He grew up in Grande Prairie, with three brothers “who were into hunting and football…. I sang in the shower when no one was home.”

During COVID, “we wrote and wrote and wrote,” says Gilfillan. Amazingly, his first time onstage was in their 2022 musical comedy Conjoined, which took sibling rivalry to a new and lethal level. The proposition is hilariously dark, with tricky stagecraft for a musical: a pair of conjoined twins, one of whom seethes with murderous resentment over his smug, bossy over-achiever other half.

Together, as you will glean, Allred and Gilfillan gravitate toward dark comedy and camp. “Kooky and irreverent” are their bywords. In trips to see Broadway musicals, they single out shows like Beetlejuice or The Book of Mormon.

It was during the run of Conjoined at the Fringe that the inspiration for Krampus occurred. Allred credits Gilfillan with the what-if? idea. “We had a burst, and wrote the entire play and some of the music,” all at one go.

And now, as Straight Edge’s production joins the Workshop West mainstage season, the pair has revisited the piece. The same cast, the same musical forces (the Edmonton Pops Orchestra led by Michael Clark) return for the remount. “It’s still a quick show,” says Allred. “But it’s two acts now, a bit fuller, we’ve managed to have some of our favourite songs…. It was a chance to (amplify) an idea, a thought, or a character trait we hadn’t fully explored. And they’ve turned out to be some of the most exciting moments.”

“We thought about what the show needed — a few plot points or character traits that hadn’t been fully realized, or even just beats within the arc.” Says Gilfillan “we didn’t want to just add for the sake of adding stuff. But there are two new songs (one for the formidable mom in Act I) , and a reprise.”

Under these Krampus circumstances, I know you’re wondering how Allred and Gilfillan feel about Christmas themselves. Surprise! They love it. “We like to make Christmas a long as possible,” says Allred cheerfully. First one Christmas, then another; we travel between the households of our two families…. And we always create Advent calendars for each other.”

PREVIEW

Krampus: a new musical

Theatre: Straight Edge Theatre at Workshop West Playwrights Theatre

Created by: Seth Gilfillan and Stephen Allred (book and music), Michael Clark (orchestrations)

Directed by: Stephen Allred

Starring: Damon Pitcher, Victoria Suen, Amanda Neufeld, Jacob Holloway, Nicole English, Seth Gilfillan

Music by: Edmonton Pops Orchestra

Where: Gateway Theatre, 8529 Gateway Blvd.

Running: Friday through Dec. 22

Tickets: workshopwest.org (all tickets pay-what-you-will).

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Die Harsh the Christmas Musical, a festive holiday tradition from Grindstone, goes bigger at the Orange Hub

Evan Dowling, David Findlay, Mhairi Berg in Die Harsh The Christmas Musical, Grindstone Theatre. Photo by Adam Goudreau

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

This is the week that two original bona fide homegrown holiday musicals return to the stage — both unconventional, both expanded and enhanced from their 2023 editions — to deck the hall (well, two different halls).

To help support 12thnight.ca YEG theatre coverage, click here.

Friday’s a big festive opening night in this theatre town. Grindstone Theatre’s Die Harsh: A Christmas Musical launches a run at the Orange Hub, and Straight Edge Theatre’s Krampus: A New Musical opens in Workshop West Playwrights Theatre season at the Gateway. Both musicals sit, with give-‘er comic gusto, outside the Christmas tradition mould. Both musical-writing teams are soaked in musical theatre.

First, Die Harsh, Grindstone’s contribution to the villain redemption season. (Stay tuned for 12thnight.ca interview with the Krampus creators Stephen Allred and Seth Gilfillan).

It was the inspiration of Byron Martin and Simon Abbott, Grindstone artistic director and composer/ resident music director, respectively, to marry their “absolute favourite Christmas movie ever,” the action thriller Die Hard, to everyone’s absolute favourite Christmas tale ever (you know, the one by Charles Dickens, Esq.), in a seasonal double-helix. Who would even think of doing this? Short answer: the team that brought the world Jason Kenney’s Hot Boy Summer and thunderCATS.

Mhairi Berg and Evan Dowling in Die Harsh The Christmas Musical, Grindstone Theatre. Photo by Adam Goudreau

“A Frankenstein of an idea!” Martin declares cheerfully. “Out of our short list of ideas for a Christmas musical, Die Hard had the most legs,” he says. “If it’s a Christmas movie, how Christmas can it be? There ’s a lot of comedy in turning up the volume on the Christmas part.”

David Findlay channelling Alan Rickman in Die Harsh The Christmas Musical, Grindstone Theatre. Photo by Adam Goudreau.

It started small. The first incarnation of Die Harsh, in 2022, was at Grindstone’s little home theatre, and instantly sold out every performance, two shows a night. An action movie with an extremely busy cast of five playing at least five characters apiece and the squeezing a live action thriller onto a teeny stage, is the very definition of low-budget ingenuity (or a housing crisis depending on your point of view). “No set at all, no room,” laughs Martin, who directed the premiere. “It felt very improv…. You get away with anything if you’re imagining every location. You know you’re in an elevator because everyone’s standing close together. The actors shouldn’t quite have their costumes on when they’re coming onstage.”

Last year, Die Harsh expanded. The 2023 incarnation of Martin’s production moved to the 200-seat Varscona Theatre, with two-acts, a full set — OK, cardboard and tinfoil figured prominently — a lighting design, a couple more characters, a four-piece band led by composer Abbott. And the tickets again flew out of the box office.

Evan Dowling in Die Harsh The Christmas Musical, Grindstone Theatre. Photo by Adam Goudreau.

In the interim Grindstone, a veritable magic bean of a company, has grown. For its new mainstage season the adrenalized little indie company has taken over the Orange Hub in the west end, with its 350-seat John L. Haar Theatre. And come Friday that’s where you’ll find the German terrorist Hans Schmuber, the Bruce Willis cop character John McWayne and his estranged wife Holly (Mhairi Berg), the rapping Ghost of Christmas Present (Hal Wesley Rogers), the tap-dancing FBI, et al.

The five-member cast is now six; Rain Matkin is the new ensemble member who plays “a bunch of characters.” And the stage manager will get to be … the stage manager. “Before, our stage manager called the show from offstage, took off her headset, (rushed) onstage and played the Teddy Bear and the death puppet and a security guard,” says Martin, with a rueful laugh. “We’re moving toward a new level of professional theatre.”

Mark Sinongco in Die Harsh The Christmas Musical, Grindstone Theatre. Photo by Adam Goudreau.

Because of his expanded producer duties Martin has given over his director’s gig to Sarah Dowling. He and co-creator Abbott, brothers in satire, parody and pastiche, have done “a couple of little rewrites here and there. We’re trying not to rip it apart too much; the danger is you pull out a couple of threads and you have to sew it together again…. It’s all about balancing the clarity of the storytelling with the sketch of the theme or the joke you’re satirizing, I guess….”

The Book of Mormon is the gold standard of what we shoot for,” says Martin, a musical theatre graduate of the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland in Glasgow. “Not just telling the story but also taking the piss out of an existing musical. When we’re writing Die Harsh we’re not just doing the confrontation scene, we’re (referencing) the confrontation from Les Miz. The death moment riffs off Hamilton…. We’re putting Die Hard on top of Christmas Carol on top of Les Miz. Or (pause) maybe it’s the other way around.”

“We love musicals. And we like making fun of musicals.”

That spirit, which Martin and Abbott share, infuses Grindstone’s weekly show The 11 O’Clock Number, which by now has a history of more than 1,000 improvised musicals. That show was Abbott’s introduction to Grindstone. Soon he was playing for the theatre’s Shmoozy Boozy Singy Thingy, a musical theatre karaoke show. And now, as Martin says in appreciation of his musical satire partner,“Simon is Edmonton’s go-to musical director! He works non-stop, an insane amount of work. And I’m honoured he prioritizes Grindstone projects. I couldn’t do these shows without him.”

Abbott, as Martin describes, is the kind of collaborator who “says he’s going to update some of the music. And all of a sudden, there are new arrangements, re-worked vocal parts for different voices and all the harmonies…. Incredible!”

Simon Abbott and Byron Martin, co-creators of Die Harsh the Christmas musical, Grindstone Theatre. Photo supplied.

The Orange Hub venture is a new stage in Grindstone’s development. “It means a lot to take over that space,” says Martin, who reports that of an inventory of 7,000 tickets 3,500 people came out to see the mainstage opener The Rocky Horror Show. “That’s the scale we want to be producing and creating on. Multiple scales,” he amends. “I really like the way the Citadel operates different streams of programming on different stages.”

At the Orange Hub Grindstone can produce on the 350-seat mainstage or the black box theatre downstairs, plus the little Strathcona comedy theatre and bistro where Die Harsh began.

“It’s a fun project,” says Martin of Die Harsh 2024. “The cast is slightly bigger, the set design is being expanded to fit that stage … and it’s such a funny show! ,

PREVIEW

Die Harsh: A Christmas Musical

Theatre: Grindstone

Created by: Byron Martin and Simon Abbott

Directed by: Sarah Dowling

Starring: David Findlay, Evan Dowling, Mhairi Berg, Hal Wesley Rogers, Mark Sinongco, Rain Matkin

Where: Orange Hub, 10045 156 St.

Running: Friday through Dec. 29

Tickets: grindstonetheatre.ca 

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Two off-centre homegrown holiday musicals return, bigger and fancier, this week! First, Grindstone’s Die Harsh. A preview

Evan Dowling, David Findlay, Mhairi Berg in Die Harsh The Christmas Musical, Grindstone Theatre. Photo by Adam Goudreau

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

This is the week that two original bona fide homegrown holiday musicals return to the stage — both unconventional, both expanded and enhanced from their 2023 editions — to deck the hall (well, two different halls).  

To help support 12thnight.ca YEG theatre coverage, click here. 

Friday’s a big festive opening night. Grindstone Theatre’s Die Harsh: A Christmas Musical launches a run at the Orange Hub, and Straight Edge Theatre’s Krampus: A New Musical opens in Workshop West Playwrights Theatre season at the Gateway. Both musicals sit, with give-‘er comic gusto, outside the Christmas tradition mould. Both musical-writing teams are soaked in musical theatre.

First, Die Harsh, Grindstone’s contribution to the villain redemption season (stay tuned for 12thnight.ca interview with the Krampus creators Stephen Allred and Seth Gilfillan).

It was the inspiration of Byron Martin and Simon Abbott, Grindstone artistic director and composer/ resident music director, respectively, to marry their “absolute favourite Christmas movie ever,” the action thriller Die Hard, to everyone’s absolute favourite Christmas tale (you know the one by Charles Dickens, Esq.) in a seasonal double-helix. Who would even think of doing this? Short answer: the team that brought the world Jason Kenney’s Hot Boy Summer and thunderCATS.

Mhairi Berg and Evan Dowling in Die Harsh The Christmas Musical, Grindstone Theatre. Photo by Adam Goudreau

“A Frankenstein of an idea!” Martin declares cheerfully. “Out of our short list of ideas for a Christmas musical, Die Hard had the most legs,” he says. “If it’s a Christmas movie, how Christmas can it be? There ’s a lot of comedy in turning up the volume on the Christmas part.”

It started small. The first incarnation of Die Harsh, in 2022, was at Grindstone’s little comedy theatre, and instantly sold out every performance, two shows a night. An action movie with an extremely busy cast of five playing at least five characters apiece and the live squeezing an action thriller onto a teeny stage, is the very definition of low-budget ingenuity, or a housing crisis depending on your point of view. “No set at all, no room,” laughs Martin, who directed the premiere. “It felt very improv…. You get away with anything if you’re imagining every location. You know you’re in an elevator because everyone’s standing close together. The actors shouldn’t quite have their costumes on when they’re coming onstage.”

Last year, Die Harsh expanded for the season. The 2023 incarnation of Martin’s production moved to the 200-seat Varscona Theatre, with two-acts, a full set — OK, cardboard and tinfoil figured prominently — a lighting design, a couple more characters, a four-piece band led by composer Abbott. And the tickets again flew out of the box office.

In the interim Grindstone, a veritable magic bean of a company, has grown. For its new mainstage season the adrenalized little indie company has taken over the Orange Hub in the west end, with its 350-seat John L. Haar Theatre. And come Friday that’s where you’ll find the German terrorist Hans Schmuber (David Findlay), the Bruce Willis cop character John McWayne (Evan Dowling) and his estranged wife Holly (Mhairi Berg), the rapping Ghost of Christmas Present, the tap-dancing FBI, et al.

The five-member cast is now six (Rain Matkin is the new ensemble member who plays “a bunch of characters”). And the stage manager will get to be … the stage manager. “Before, the stage manager called the show from offstage, took off her headset, and went onstage and played the Teddy Bear and the death puppet and a security guard,” says Martin, with a rueful laugh. “We’re moving toward a new level of professional theatre.”

Evan Dowling in Die Harsh the Christmas Musical. Photo by Adam Goudreau

Because of his expanded producer duties Martin has given over his director’s gig to Sarah Dowling for this show. He and co-creator Abbott, brothers in satire, parody and pastiche, have done “a couple of little rewrites here and there. We’re trying not to rip it apart too much; the danger is you pull out a couple of threads and you have to sew it together again….  It’s all about balancing the clarity of the storytelling with the sketch of the theme or the joke you’re satirizing, I guess….” The real focus this time is enhancing the production values to fit big stage.

The Book of Mormon is the gold standard of what we shoot for,” says Martin, a musical theatre graduate of the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland in Glasgow. “Not just telling the story but also taking the piss out of an existing musical. When we’re writing Die Harsh we’re not just doing the confrontation scene, we’re (referencing) the confrontation from Les Miz. Or the death moment that riffs off Hamilton…. We’re putting Die Hard on top of Christmas Carol on top of Les Miz. Or (pause) maybe it’s the other way around.”

“We love musicals. And we like making fun of musicals.”

That spirit, which Martin and Abbott share, infuses Grindstone’s weekly show The 11 O’Clock Number, which by now has a history of more than 1,000 improvised musicals. That show was Abbott’s introduction to Grindstone. Soon he was at the keyboard playing for the theatre’s Shmoozy Boozy Singy Thingy, a musical theatre karaoke show. And, as Martin says in appreciation of his musical satire partner, “now Simon is Edmonton’s go-to musical director! He works non-stop, everywhere, an insane amount of work. And I’m honoured he prioritizes Grindstone projects. I couldn’t do these shows without him.”

Abbott is the kind of collaborator, as Martin describes, who “says he’s going to update some of the music. And all of a sudden, there are new arrangements, re-worked vocal parts for different voices and all the harmonies…. Incredible!”

The Orange Hub venture is a new stage in Grindstone’s development. “It means a lot to take over that space,” says Martin, who reports that of an inventory of 7,000 tickets 3,500 people came out to see the mainstage opener The Rocky Horror Show. “That’s the scale we want to be producing and creating on. Multiple scales, actually,” he amends. “I really like the way the Citadel operates different streams of programming on different stages.”

At the Orange Hub Grindstone can produce on the 350-seat mainstage or the black box theatre downstairs, plus the company’s home base, the little Strathcona comedy theatre and bistro where Die Harsh began.

“It’s a fun project,” says Martin of Die Harsh 2024. “The cast is slightly bigger, the set design is being expanded to fit that stage…. And it’s such a funny show!

PREVIEW

Die Harsh: A Christmas Musical

Theatre: Grindstone

Created by: Byron Martin and Simon Abbott

Directed by: Sarah Dowling

Starring: David Findlay, Evan Dowling, Mhairi Berg, Hal Wesley Rogers, Mark Singongco, Rain Matkin

Where: Orange Hub, 10045 156 St.

Running: Friday through Dec. 29

Tickets: grindstonetheatre.ca

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There’s magic in those high-strung puppets: Little Dickens, the Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes at Theatre Network, a review

Schnitzel as Tiny Tim in Little Dickens, Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes at Theatre Network.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

As Bah Humbug!s encircle the globe at this time of year, know this: There is nothing in the world like Ronnie Burkett’s riotous adults-only Little Dickens, in which the high-strung marionette artistes of the Daisy Theatre, who know a hit story when they see it, present their own version.

To help support 12thnight.ca YEG theatre coverage, click here.

It’s wayward, larky, irreverent, playfully raunchy … the particular genius of the string-puller/ playwright/ designer/ director/ improviser extraordinaire.

The Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes has returned to Theatre Network for the fa-la-la-la-la season, with a company of 56 Daisy puppets waiting in costume backstage for their cue — and Burkett’s own improv expertise if not the story — to single them out. Burkett talks to us from atop the red velvet-curtained puppet theatre planted on the Roxy stage. And his mouthy marionettes talk to each other, sometimes to us, sometimes to audience recruits, in this bawdy, and hilarious, semi-improvised cabaret.

There are dramatic scenes, yes, and also musical interludes, singalongs, cameo appearances by Daisy cast members blithely unrelated to the story. There are improvised asides by Burkett, famously quick on the uptake; there’s chat with game audience “volunteers” dazed into complicity by the good-sport clause. The repertoire’s classic tale of sin and redemption takes it right on the tinsel. Little Dickens is both satirical and spoofy in spirit, about sin, redemption, sentiment, and showbiz.

But, lo and behold, that tale somehow survives, in its own original, and even heart-warming, way. And it’s largely through the charm of Burkett’s most-loved character, the charismatic little non-binary fairy Schnitzel, who plays Tiny Tim, complete with theatre’s most famous prop (after the skull of poor Yorick), the Tiny Tim crutch.

Esmé Massengill as Scrooge in Little Dickens, Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes at Theatre Network. Photo supplied.

At the centre of it all, in the starring role as the frozen-hearted Scrooge is Esmé Massengill, the aging, foul-mouthed diva, narcissist, and — as she tells us, unequalled — dramatic actor. Pronouns: “me/myself/I.” Esmé takes to the stage in her “authentic biblical showgirl costume.” And she is incredulous and much displeased to discover that her show has been cancelled just because it’s Christmas Eve. What, no audience?

Dolly Wiggler (and Schnitzel) in Little Dickens, Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes at Theatre Network. Photo supplied

None of this can happen, of course, before the traditional Daisy Theatre striptease opener. In a feat of Burkett’s unsurpassed marionette virtuosity, the well-endowed Dolly Wiggler doffs her sparkly duds to that X-rated Yuletide classic Santa Claus Got Stuck In My Chimney. I leave you to imagine the choreography.

Esmé’s timid much put-upon manager/agent Bob Cratchit has the temerity to want the night off, and gets an earful. So does her singer-songwriter nephew Indy Frets, who summons the seasonal chutzpah to invite Auntie Esmé to Christmas dinner (“cmon, we’re having Tofurkey!”). And, in an inspired scene, the Lunkheads, the elderly brother-and-sister theatrical duo who’ve been touring school gymnasiums and Legion Halls for seven decades, bravely ask the star for a donation to the Actors Benevolent Fund to support out-of-work thespians. They get a snarly scroogian answer. “Are there no dinner theatres? Are there no touring children’s productions?”

Esmé is warned by her old frenemy Rosemary Focaccia, back from Vegas and the dead, of impending visits from three spirits. “Gin, vodka, and brandy,” says Esmé, unperturbed. There are surprise ghosts from backstage (my lips are sealed). And so Esmé is led by the Ghost of Christmas Past (you’ll laugh out loud to see him) into a review of her own career as she claws (and sleeps) her way to stardom.

Little Dickens, Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes, Theatre Network. Photo supplied.

You know you’re in Edmonton, in a good way, when plump Mrs. Edna Rural, the“silly old biddy in a housedress” from Turnip Corners, AB., shows up onstage to a big, loud, sustained cheer from the crowd. Plot shmot, the Daisy Theatre hangs loose about that. Edna is an audience fave, the character C. Dickens somehow forgot to write (that guy coulda been big). She’s there to share holiday recipes, and lead a singalong, assisted on opening night by Kevin, a good-natured volunteer from the audience.

John Alcorn’s clever score, elsewhere full of lyrical smoky jazz arrangements of Christmas songs — including a dreamy What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve sung by a louche lounge singer in a white dinner jacket — makes room for a rudimentary Casio organ track, in an affectionate wink at every church hall Christmas group-sing ever.     

There are puppet jokes, of course. No Burkett production comes without them. Some are fleeting: there’s a lunatic brilliance to the Daisy Theatre duo of paunchy ventriloquist Meyer Lemon and his big-mouth dummy Little Woody Linden. Some linger, cheeky about the larger theme of Dickens’ tale of ghostly intervention. Can mankind  change? The answer is Sure. Esmé as Scrooge demonstrates by changing … into her fabulous “redemption gown” on Christmas morning.

The marionettes themselves are exquisitely designed and sculpted by Burkett, and dressed by Kim Crossley, in impossibly miniaturized detail. The tiny beaded headdress of Esmé’s 20s biblical showgirl outfit, Edna’s Naturalizers, the perfect red uniform of the star of the wacky bellhop films, the red leather boots of matinee idol Dicky Long….

Esmé Massengill and Schnitzel in Little Dickens, Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes at Theatre Network. Photo supplied.

And, as you’ll know if you’ve ever seen a  Burkett production, the diminutive actors move onstage with breathtaking virtuosity. To see Esmé fling herself onto her own personal casting couch, limbs akimbo, is to watch a master at work. The diva is an expert at shoulder acting, and every shrug and gesture, down to her fingertips, is expressive.

There’s magic in it. And there’s magic, too, in the sense that marionettes only live, come to life, by imaginative bonding with the audience. That’s what little Schnitzel is all about, paying tribute to the way puppets might travel in the dark in crates, but find their family in the light with us, the audience.

Be prepared to be tickled.

REVIEW

Little Dickens: The Daisy Theatre presents A Christmas Carol

Theatre: Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes at Theatre Network

Created and performed by: Ronnie Burkett

Music by: John Alcorn

Where: Roxy Theatre, 10708 124 St.

Running: through Dec. 22

Tickets (for adults, +16 only): theatrenetwork.ca

  

  

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The fury of desperation: the punk rock play Brother Rat at Edmonton Fringe Theatre, a review

Jackson Card in Brother Rat, ReadyGo Theatre at Edmonton Fringe Theatre. Photo by Mat Simpson

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

If there ever was a show that demanded the audience ‘listen to me!’ and won’t take no — not to mention maybe, or we’ll see and maybe get back to you later — for an answer, it’s the one currently running at the Backstage Theatre in the Edmonton Fringe Theatre season.

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The thing about Brother Rat that knocks you back in your seat — besides the volume — is that there’s really no frontier between the music and the characters who play it. None.

For one thing, of course, Erik Richards’s new punk rock play with music, adapted from the nine-minute song Brother Rat/ What Slayde Says by the Canadian punk band NoMeansNo, is set at a concert. And the sound, Whittyn Jason’s set and dramatic lighting, the grimy clutter of instruments and speakers and cords, and the general haze in the theatre, envelop you in that world.

But more than that, the numbers (by the playwright and Josh Meredith) and the hammering barrage of repetitions in Richards’s lyrics also, in a visceral way, become the dialogue (and the soliloquies) in the scenes between numbers.

Maybe the whole engine of punk is an expression of anger. The characters are more than pissed off. They’re struggling, and coming apart at the seams from fury And it’s the fury of extreme desperation, as it emerges from the wall of sound that has us putting in earplugs (provided) when the members of the band, Theresa Give Me That Knife, grab their instruments.

In the first scene Robby (Jackson Card), haunted by mental illness, is hearing a voice he knows — “Robby, where are you, man?” — from somewhere the clutter of his head. And he’s trying to resist. The first number we hear from him and his bandmates includes “I’m feeling sick of spinning circles.” He left home — ejected in effect by his father who called him “a schizo” — when he pitched a brick through the door.

Michelle Rob in Brother Rat, ReadyGo Theatre at Edmonton Fringe Theatre. Photo by Mat Simpson.

Presiding from the altar of a drum set, Michelle Robb as Dianne whales away wildly, arms whirling. A lingering image of Richards’ ReadyGo Theatre production is Dianne collapsing over a cymbal like a puppet unstrung. She’s been off booze and pills, she says, trying to search for her mother who’s lost in the streets. “I think my mother would have liked this show…. She won’t see me end up like her. I have to get better.” It’s a tenuous thread to the world, and a glimmer of what the helping professions like to call “wellness.” But rehab-type programs notwithstanding, she’s started up again.

“I hurt all the time. So do you…. What are we supposed to do?” Robby says to Dianne. Well, there’s a question, from people who somehow slipped through the cracks of the world.

The third character Slayde, the bassist, played with a kind of vicious energy by Spenser Kells, is the band whip, so to speak, and Robby’s toxic alter-ego. “We plays shows. We get fucked up. We stick together.” So what is the problem? “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he says to Robby and Dianne. It’s the kind of pep talk — hey, the show must go on! — that underpins the entertainment industry, true, but oils the wheels of substance abuse and mental illness.

In the NoMeansNo song, it’s Slayde who seems to be the voice of Robby’s self-destructive urge:  “We’re brothers, brothers in arms, until the end your end brother rat.” There’s a romance to this kind of toxicity, a possessiveness. In the play Slayde urges Robby to jettison Dianne, abandon her to her fate. “She doesn’t want to be happy,” he says. “It’s not right to drag people down like that.”

My ears aren’t really tuned to punk (I bet you guessed). And I strained mightily to hear the lyrics before I realized it’s better to just catch memorable phrases as they lift from the aural fabric of Brother Rat. But you get a sense of a story arc based on serial lapses — and a powerful sense of the struggle to throw off chains, and stop the terrifying spiral into a kind of murky oblivion.

Brother Rat, ReadyGo Theatre at Edmonton Fringe Theatre. Photo by Mat Simpson. Set and lighting by Whittyn Jason

Richards, best known as a sound designer/ composer, has assembled a cast of actor-musicians to form a band. The characters we meet are convincing outsiders. And we’re not sure if they can ever take charge of lives in thrall to assorted abuses. In a way Brother Rat is too short for its own story. It’s exactly the right length for a group portrait, though.

Musicals tend to take their characters to high-stakes moments when only singing will fill the bill, and move the story forward. The stakes are high, and loud, in Brother Rat, to be sure. But it needs its music in a different way. The spirit of punk is the fabric of life for its characters. They stay angry and they keep going.

Here’s a 12thnight preview interview with playwright Erik Richards.

REVIEW

Brother Rat

Theatre: ReadyGo Theatre

Written by: Erik Richards, music by Erik Richards and Josh Meredith, lyrics by Erik Richards, adapted from the song Brother Rat by NoMeansNo

Directed by: Erik Richards

Starring: Jackson Card, Spenser Kells, Michelle Robb

Where: Backstage Theatre, Fringe Theatre Arts Barns, 10330 84 Ave.

Running: through Dec. 7

Tickets: fringetheatre.ca

 

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A multi-dimensional life in the theatre: the mind- and heart-expansion effect of Jim DeFelice

Jim DeFelice and Bradley Moss in Possible Worlds, 1993. Photo by Ed Ellis.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

With the passing in October of Jim DeFelice, at 87, a multi-talented theatre artist and a true theatre community mentor are, at one blow, gone from us. Without him this theatre town of ours seems a little flatter, a little darker, a little thinner in texture.  

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And if a certain incredulity attaches to the heartbreaking news of his departure, it’s partly because DeFelice lived in such an expansive, multi-dimensional way — as a do-er and an appreciator, a teacher and a human connector. And (as tributes from across the country confirm) as a friend, loyal and steadfast, ever curious, ever generous about sharing his encyclopedic theatre knowledge, his stories, his enthusiasm.

There was nothing Ivory Tower about DeFelice, a U of A drama professor for three decades till he retired in 2002. He acted on stage and screen, he directed, he dramaturged new plays, he wrote his own. He wrote screenplays, too, like the 1977 award-winner Why Shoot The Teacher and episodes of Wind At My Back. He helped launch theatre companies, Shadow Theatre among them. and sat on theatre boards, Shadow, Workshop West, and Northern Light Theatre among them. He went to Oilers games and the opera (and had views on both); he went on birding expeditions; he played poker and studied horse racing forms. Six years ago, he tried his hand at improv, in Coyote Comedy at Grindstone, and was by all reports, a natural, and an audience fave.

Jim DeFelice as Pinchwife, with Janet-Laine Greene, in The Country Wife, Studio Theatre 1974. Photo by Ed Ellis.

And as his former students have attested, DeFelice followed their careers, in meaningful, personal ways. He was in the audience for their opening nights; he sent them messages, newspaper and magazine clippings, old programs he’d saved from a lifetime collection. He connected them with ideas, and with other artists. And when they took their theatre skills into other lines of work, he followed those, too.

It was a DeFelice specialty, a sort of graceful un-pushy mind expansion. And we were all (even theatre reviewers!) the beneficiaries. In your snail-mail box, you’d find big brown envelopes from him every once in a while, with notes clipped to them. I remember getting a copy of Arthur Miller’s The Archbishop’s Ceiling, a play I’d never heard of, with a Jim note saying he just thought I’d be interested in it. That’s how I learned about the byways of the Sam Shepard canon, too. Like his Boston accent, the big brown envelope was, it turned out, a DeFelice signature, theatre community-wide.

Jim DeFelice in Closer and Closer Apart. Photo supplied.

There is nothing predictable about DeFelice’s route from his little seaside home town of Lynn, Mass. (a 45-minute Blue Line bus ride from central Boston) to Edmonton — except that theatre was always part of it. Lynn was full of Italian immigrants like DeFelice’s parents, many of them in the shoe industry. Blue collar union supporters, yes, and “they loved the arts,” says Amy, DeFelice’s theatre director daughter, who visited Lynn every summer with her sister Gwen and her mother Gail, till she was 18. “And since my dad was very much the youngest of the six kids, his parents had time for him…. His mom, who loved music and theatre, took him to live game shows, and plays, in New York. He was the kid who got to go.”

Here’s a surprise: DeFelice’s undergrad degree from Northeastern in Boston was in journalism, and he became a sports writer with the Boston Globe. “He loved sports,” says Amy, the artistic director of Trunk Theatre (which, like her father, has provided Edmonton with so many discoveries from the contemporary repertoire). “He played basketball really well; he did track…. At the same time he was writing plays, and acting, too.”

With the Theatre Company of Boston, where Faye Dunaway and Stacy Keach were in the ensemble, DeFelice acted in Edward Albee plays, and dived into the Euro repertoire too. By the time he got to grad school at the University of Indiana, where he met Gail, an English and journalism major with a matching Massachusetts accent, he’d left journalism for theatre.

In 1969, the couple both got hired by the U of A on a year’s contract, then moved back east (DeFelice had a teaching gig at Rutgers in New Jersey). By 1972 the DeFelices were back here. “My dad always said they were very happy to have made a life in Canada,” says Amy, who grew up in a family whose group activity was “attending plays and concerts” and “divvying up the parts to read a play that dad was thinking of directing with his students.”

DeFelice’s was an auspicious arrival for this theatre town, and the ripple effects are still being felt. Shadow Theatre was founded by two of DeFelice’s U of A theatre students, John Hudson and Shaun Johnston. When Shadow made its debut, with Sam Shepard’s Fool for Love, DeFelice played the Old Man observer, alongside Johnston and Lindsay Burns. Next up, DeFelice directed Shadow’s How I Got That Story.

Says Hudson, “Jim’s support and encouragement were so important…. He sat on our board for five years; he acted for us; he directed for us (his Shadow productions included  The Weir, The Baltimore Waltz, Underneath The Lintel). “My dad thought it was not right for him to be a teacher if he wasn’t also doing,” says Amy.

The DeFelice directing style was positive and encouraging, says Hudson, “gently leading, and so knowledgeable.” And it encouraged the actors’ own individuality and discoveries. “You never heard a nasty word from him.” The only times a fiery DeFelice temper showed up were moments when actors weren’t respecting each other in rehearsal, says Stephen Heatley, a U of A directing grad who became Theatre Network artistic director (current TN a.d. Bradley Moss is also a DeFelice directing mentee). In this Heatley echoes Amy, who occasionally stage-managed her dad’s productions.

Collin Doyle (The Mighty Carlins, Let The Light of Day Through) says “my experience as a playwright working with Jim as a director was him calmly and methodically working the script. He wanted everyone in the room to understand the story, to be grounded in the story. And that’s what I always saw in the productions he directed: the actors were grounded; they were listening to the other actors. They were breathing. They were in the moment and living on the stage. Because of Jim, the actors trusted the play….”

“I think Jim’s best quality as a human and as a director,” says Doyle, “was he cared deeply about everyone, he was always kind, and he was always curious.”

DeFelice’s knowledge was vast; it encompassed Irish, British, American, Canadian theatre. “He took us back to French Canadian theatre,” says Heatley. He remembers that when he chose Michel Tremblay’s Bonjour, La, Bonjour as his master’s degree finale, “Jim gave me a file folder of clippings,” along with the inspiration of the original production directed by Quebec star André Brassard. Afterward, says Heatley, “he invited me to be in his production of The Hostage,” alongside heavy-hitters like Paul Gross. “Jim led quite a relaxed, exploratory kind of rehearsal…. he was an inspiring mind to be around.”

Jim DeFelice at The Upper Crust c. 2008. Photo by Gerry Potter

Gerry Potter, the founder and first artistic director of Workshop West in 1978, remembers arriving here from Ottawa, by train, to study directing and get an MFA at the U of A. His first sight of Edmonton was “dark and scary and industrial,” and he spent his first night in the single men’s hostel. And then he met DeFelice, and his world got a lot brighter.

“He was a walking encyclopedia,” says Potter, who remembers DeFelice going to bat for him with the drama department bureaucracy. . “He seemed to know everyone, and he made connections for you.” Like every theatre artist in town Potter talks about the envelopes of clippings that came his way. Kate Ryan, one of DeFelice’s BFA acting students and now a director and artistic director (Plain Jane Theatre), remembers the clippings too. “He had an electric energy…. Theatre for him was about celebrating people. He cared about their history, where they came from, what they wrote and why.”

“A very kind man. And a fierce defender of his students, and the artists in the community. He was a busy man; he supported all of us,” says Potter. “Eventually, he became one of my closest friends, and a lot of people felt the same…. I’d (post) a picture of Jim and me having coffee at Spinelli’s. And I’d get 250 comments from people who loved him.”

Jim DeFelice in Jake’s Gate, by and directed by Gerry Potter. Photo supplied by Gerry Potter.

DeFelice was in Potter’s his first 16 mm film Jake’s Gate. “The character was loosely based on my father, and Jim attacked with such passion and intensity. He brought huge depth to it.”

By 2023, DeFelice’s health was failing. But he acted in the Collider Festival reading of Collin Doyle’s play The Takeoff at the Citadel. “While Jim did not feel he was at his best, I saw him give a wonderful, heartfelt performance that I thought was perfect,” says Doyle. DeFelice’s last theatrical outings, at last summer’s Fringe, a festival where he’d worked on more than 20 productions, were Doyle’s play-turned-musical Let The Light Of Day Through, and Sebastian Ley’s 638 Ways To Kill Castro.

DeFelice’s support of Canadian theatre was both wide, and particular. When the New York Times wrote, in the ‘80s, that there wasn’t much going on in Canadian theatre, he immediately wrote a letter to the editor (published) dismissing the dismissal. Although DeFelice would never have said so, he was his own best evidence.

 

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Little Dickens: Ronnie Burkett’s marionettes return to Theatre Network to upend a Christmas classic

Little Dickens, Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes, Theatre Network. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

“It’s the old puppeteer joke,” says Ronnie Burkett who has a lifetime supply of same. “Build a holiday show, and you know what you’re doing every December.”

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Which brings us to Little Dickens, opening Thursday at Theatre Network. In this festive Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes production , the entire company of The Daisy Theatre —  diminutive stringed thespians who are the only actors in the country who travel by crate — do their raunchy (for adults only) version of the season’s most celebrated story, Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

Theatre Network audiences will recall that the Daisy Theatre company — some 56 marionettes and one rather tall marionettist strong — brought their Shakespearean show Little Willy to Theatre Network last season. And the Bard himself hung around, along with Jesus. Now, in this evergreen tale of last-minute redemption on Christmas Eve, an earlier piece by the Daisy artistes, the aging diva Esmé Massengill, who needs a shot of redemption more than most, takes on the star role of the frozen-hearted Scrooge. And the adorably aspirational little fairy Schnitzel gets to declare “God bless us, every one” as Tiny Tim.

Esmé Massengill as Scrooge in Little Dickens, Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes at Theatre Network. Photo supplied.

“One of the great things about Christmas Carol,” says the Alberta-born playwright/ actor/ director/ designer/ master marionettiste Burkett (who was awarded the 2024 Governor General’s Lifetime Achievement Award in the performing arts), “is that everybody knows it, but they don’t know it…. You don’t have to know every intricacy. It can be as simple as ‘miserly guy goes to bed, is visited by three ghosts, gets redeemed’. Done.”

“That’s why everyone adapts it…. You can use the book virtually verbatim: the dialogue is so rich, and the story just flows. You don’t have to be a great dramatist to do an adaptation.” Burkett pauses, and laughs,. “Hey, sorry, (t0) every artistic director who’s ever done one.” Not that Burkett, an inveterate improviser, sticks to a set script anyhow, as Daisy Theatre audiences across the country have discovered.

It’s the title that tickled him first. “‘Little Dickens’ came to me one night as I came out of the Grand Theatre (in London, Ont.)” after a show. “The title made me laugh,” he says. “And I just thought, that would be fun, to do Christmas Carol with the Daisy cast.” He wrote to Heather Redfern, executive director of the Cultch, later that night, ‘hey, I’ve got a really stupid idea for a one-off. What do you think?’ By the next afternoon, she’d booked it for a month-long run. Before we even opened, she’d booked it for the following year. And I’ve done it every Christmas since (with pandemic exceptions)” — at the Cultch twice, at Canadian Stage in Toronto, at the Centaur in Montreal.

In Vancouver, where the Daisy Theatre had played many times before, “there was an audience who knew the characters,” as Burkett says. And he had his doubts whether Little Dickens could ever work for an audience of Daisy novices. “I was proven wrong…. A brand new audience can come and get into it!”

Schnitzel as Tiny Tim, Little Dickens, Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes at Theatre Network. Photo supplied.

“Esmé is Scrooge but she’s Esmé. She doesn’t have a show on Christmas Eve, so she goes home miserable, and is visited by three spirits — gin, vodka, and brandy. Schnitzel is a born Tiny Tim….” The Lunkheads, the terrible brother and sister Canadian theatre duo who’ve been touring the prairies for decades, possibly centuries, play the charitable pair who visit Scrooge, to solicit money for work-starved actors. Snarls Esmé, “are there no dinner theatres?” Mrs. Edna Rural, a perpetual audience favourite, “has nothing to do with this story,” says Burkett. “But she comes out anyway, as a singing Christmas tree, and leads the audience in a community sing-along. Because that’s what you do in Turnip Corners, AB.”  Rosemary Focaccia, Esmé’s late showbiz duo partner, is the first ghost.

Since the Daisy Cabaret artistes appeared most recently in Little Willy, costume changes  (which means alternate versions of puppets) are de rigueur for Little Dickens. “I have to put little Santa hats on the band. I have to sew Rosemary’s chains back on.” And Esmé has “a couple of great new outfits — her loungewear, basically feather boas and glitter, and at the end, a new (redesigned) ‘redemption gown’! Last time out it was a little too tasteful.”

So after Little Dickens and Little Willy, what venerable author is ripe for plundering by the Daisy cast. “This is such a high-class enterprise, they only do the classics,” laughs Burkett. He doesn’t anticipate further inspirations of the Little... nature. “I don’t really have Little Jane Austen in me.”

Burkett’s Wonderful Joe, which premiered at Theatre Network last winter (inspired as he’s said, by his own cherished, very old, and now sadly late, dog Robbie), has continued to tour — October at Toronto’s St. Lawrence Center, with dates at New York’s Lincoln Center, the High Performance Rodeo in Calgary, and the Cultch to come in the New Year.

Meanwhile, at the end of this hard and chaotic year, there’s Little Dickens. “You know what? It’s a fun show to do,” he says. “I have friends who start talking Christmas in September, about how their Christmas shopping is all done’. And I was always ‘Oh, shut up!’”

“But this year, with the U.S. election, with climate change, with literally everything going on, I figure whatever people need to find a little joy in their life, I’m not going to criticize them. I’m quite delighted with all my Christmas-y friends. Because they’re … happy!”

PREVIEW

Little Dickens

Theatre: Ronnie Burkett Theatre of Marionettes at Theatre Network

Created and performed by: Ronnie Burkett (and members of The Daisy Theatre)

Music by: John Alcorn

Where: Roxy Theatre, 10708 124 St.

Running: Thursday through Dec. 22

Tickets: theatrenetwork.ca (for adults, +16 only)

 

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And opening tonight… at the Citadel and Rapid Fire

The cast of a Christmas Carol, 2023, Citadel Theatre. Photo by Nanc Price.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

It’s been the hardest of weeks at the Citadel. The death of the much-loved actor Julien Arnold during Sunday night’s preview performance of A Christmas Carol has been profoundly shocking and sad for the theatre community, artists and audiences alike — and of course especially heartbreaking for director Lianna Makuch and her cast of 32, including 14 kids, in this deluxe large-scale production. It still seems so hard to believe, in truth, that Arnold’s impressive skills, his joyous spirit, his capacity for happiness, have been laid to rest, and live on in our memories now.  A 12thnight.ca tribute, posted Monday is here.

Tonight, the production, starring John Ullyatt as the flinty Mr. Scrooge, resumes public performances. And in Arnold’s roles — Jacob Marley, the exuberant and joyful Mr. Fezziwig, and assorted ensemble assignments — will be the actor’s close friend of 38 years, Troy O’Donnell. With Arnold one of the original founders of the Freewill Shakespeare Festival, and a fine actor, O’Donnell has been his friend’s understudy this year, and now valiantly steps up.

A Christmas Carol runs through Dec. 24. And the entire run is dedicated to Julien Arnold. Tickets: citadeltheatre.com.

                                         ………………..

The Blank Who Stole Christmas, Rapid Fire Theatre’s own original Yuletide musical, returns tonight for a third figgy pudding/Bah Humbug! season of combining improv and script. The Blank, the villain of the piece, is different every performance. The first few scenes are scripted, and then … improv!

No one onstage knows what character the guest star will have chosen to play. The Blank’s identity is a mystery until the moment they arrive onstage. And improv works both ways: the Blank has never seen the script, much less rehearsed with the cast.

This is, of course, holiday madness! What will happen? It pretty much defines unpredictable: you have to be there to find out. Last year I saw Lindsey Walker as Liza Minnelli as the Blank. And the results were hilarious.

There are three versions of the show, depending on your sensibility, the way you react to F-bombs, and your age. “Nice,” which runs Saturdays at 1:30 is “safe for everyone, no swearing,” as billed, with kid-friendly Blanks specially chosen. “Naughty” is 14-plus, and runs at 7 p.m. And you may hear some, er, choice words and adult humour. “Nasty,” for the 18-plus crowd, which runs Fridays and Saturdays at 9:30, guarantees bad words, and situations that could make you blush — just depending, of course.

The Blank Who Stole Christmas runs through Dec. 22. Tickets: rapidfiretheatre.com

  

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‘A wonder of an actor’: in Julien Arnold, we’ve lost one of our finest, and most loved, theatre artists

Julien Arnold and Geoffrey Simon Brown, in rehearsal for The Woman In Black, Teatro Live! Photo by Cassie Duval.

Julien Arnold as Bob Cratchit, 2018. Photo supplied by Citadel Theatre.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

We — the ‘we’ across the country — woke up this morning to the most heartbreaking and tragic theatre news.

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The untimely passing of Julien Arnold at 58, felled by a heart attack at the Citadel during Sunday night’s preview performance of A Christmas Carol, robs us of one of our finest, and most beloved, actors. In this year’s production of Edmonton’s seasonal hit Arnold had returned to the dual roles of Jacob Marley and the irresistibly ebullient Christmas party host Mr. Fezziwig, as well as joining the ensemble and the band.     

And the theatre community and its audiences are remembering, in an outpouring of sadness and huge affection, a theatre artist who was intensely committed, expert and easeful in his craft onstage, and thoroughly delightful, kind, and funny offstage. When Arnold’s theatre school classmate Ashley Wright was directing a production of Twelfth Night at the U of A, as he told 12thnight.ca, his note to the student actors in the cast was “just watch Julien….”   

There will be many more “Jules” stories to come, of course; this is just the start — the tip of a rich vein of our collective theatre history where this artist will continue to live. Arnold, after all, brought his charisma and skill to theatre companies and indies of every size and shape. He was a co-founder with his U of A classmates of the Freewill Shakespeare Festival in 1989; we got to see him onstage out in the park, in a huge range of parts. He started his own Atlas Theatre Collective when he returned to the U of A for a master’s degree in directing in 2008.

Julien Arnold, Richard Lee Hsi in Mesa, Atlas Theatre Collective. Photo by Mat Busby.

The range of theatrical real estate between, say, Martin McDonagh’s very black comedy A Skull in Connemara and the giddiness of Spamalot, or The Merchant of Venice and Stewart Lemoine’s real-time cocktail party Cocktails at Pam’s, is, to say the least, vast. All easily within Arnold’s compass. You needed a character to play the guitar, the banjo, the violin … Arnold could do that too.

First, and last, was Teatro La Quindicina. His final mainstage performance, as it turns out, was in Andrew Ritchie’s production of the two-hander goth thriller The Woman in Black that opened the Teatro Live! season in October — as an elderly solicitor, who also plays everyone his younger self meets in a journey into a dark, secret past.

The start of Arnold’s professional career was at Teatro, too. The young actor, who emerged with a BFA in acting from U of A theatre school in 1989, immediately caught the eye of the home company of Stewart Lemoine’s original comedies, and was snapped up as a Teatro star, a leading member of the ensemble — which he remained. In 1990, his first year out of school, he starred in Lemoine’s The Glittering Heart, as a husband who’s taken aback when his wife announces she’s up and moving to Venice to become a famous courtesan.

“He was such a good speaker,” says Lemoine remembering the young Arnold’s unusual dexterity with words, a skill particularly to be cherished in literate, witty comedies with smart characters. “And so versatile. He  spoke with such authority, such a grounded presence onstage. In his delivery he was so connected in his words and thoughts.…”

“He was always super-prepared; his scripts were always in tatters,” says Lemoine. He remembers Arnold hauling out his signed Equity contract, all ragged round the edges, and the amazed stage manger would ask ‘what happened to this’?

The Teatro archive is full of memorable Arnold performances in nuanced, often wistful comedies, Shocker’s Delight, Happy Toes, The Ambassador’s Wives. They tested the elastic boundaries of comedy, and Arnold naturally found layers and depths in laughter. The last role Lemoine created specially for Arnold was in The Finest of Strangers in 2018.

Lemoine’s favourite Arnold moment? The final image of Shocker’s Delight, a comedy of three-way collegiate friendship, heartbreak, and resilience, leaves Arnold, alone in a rowboat: “I am at peace, and so I float.” That is a thought to hang onto today.

Arnold and Shakespeare got along brilliantly, from the moment the Free Will Players took to the stage in the park every summer. I remember his Petruchio, the swaggering suitor of the “shrew,” roaring up to the stage on his motorcycle.

James MacDonald, the first Freewill artistic director (now the artistic director of Western Canada Theatre in Kamloops) says of his close friend, who got married to Punctuate! Theatre managing director Sheiny Satanove last summer, that “he was a wonder of an actor, with the agility to break your heart and have you in stitches within a moment. I loved directing him because he always found the depth in his comedic roles, as easily as he found the humour in the dramatic roles. And he made everyone around him better….”

“He found incredible depth and humour as the Fool in Lear, as Feste in Twelfth Night, and as Petruchio twice! Where he was unafraid to be dislikable and charming at the same time. And he stole the show as the Harpo-inspired Pistol in The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Julien Arnold as Bottom, archival photos of the dress rehearsal for A Midsummer Nights Dream at the Citadel Theatre, 2012 Photo by Ian Jackson, epic photography.

He was in Shakespeare at the Citadel, too, among many other productions at Edmonton’s largest playhouse. I remember his hilariously lovable comic turn as Bottom, the bossy weaver and over-eager amateur thesp, in the Citadel’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream in 2012. Always, there was heart to Arnold’s comedy; he had great comic chops and timing, certainly, but comedy was never a callow affair with him.

With his warmth and cordiality Arnold was a marvellous, quintessential, Bob Cratchit in the Citadel’s production of A Christmas Carol for the two decades of the Tom Wood adaptation. And he and MacDonald shared the stage when the latter played Scrooge for five Christmases. “I have a million memories, but right now what stands out is the final moment between Scrooge and Cratchit, sharing a Merry Christmas greeting (the day after the fateful visitation by the ghosts). He did it for 20 years with as much truth and honesty as on day 1.” He must be the only Cratchit in history to also play, very against type, Scrooge.

Kate Ryan, Arnold’s Mrs. Cratchit, says “life was fragile and beautiful to him. He lived every moment. Being in A Christmas Carol was such a special part of his life and he loved it fully…. (Just now) I saw a child ride a unicycle past my window on the way to school…. The spirit of Julien lives on in the youth’s love of life. He was like the Peter Pan of Edmonton.”

During COVID I asked Arnold, and other theatre artists, what roles they’d always wanted to play but never had the chance. His answer, typically Arnold, typically unexpected: Dogberry, the bumbling Keystone clown in Much Ado About Nothing;  the Apothecary in Romeo and Juliet, the grave digger in Hamlet. Ah,,and Salieri, the much-aggrieved lesser light to Mozart in Amadeus.   

The image that that’s grabbed hold of my memory on this sorrowful day is Arnold’s Bob Cratchit, catching sight of Tiny Tim and Mrs. Cratchit outside the bleak offices of Scrooge and Marley. “Hello, my little cock robin!” he cries. His face lights up in wonder; he sheds before our very eyes the drudgery of his life in the warm of human connection.

Arnold knew everything about that kind of magic. “There is so much Happy to remember,” as Lemoine says. This is just the start of that.

A GoFundMe has been created to support Arnold’s family: https://tinyurl.com/bdehccpn.

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Brother Rat: a punk rock play with music (and earplugs) opens the Fringe Theatre season

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Some kids grow up listening to Itsy Bitsy Spider, and drifting off to sleep with The Cat Came Back. The soundtrack of Erik Richards’s childhood was NoMeansNo, SNFU, Minor Threats, Bad Brains.

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And that high-volume punk rock inspiration, courtesy of Richards’s dad, a “huge punk and heavy metal fan” who “didn’t turn it down,” has found its way into Brother Rat, the “play with music” that premieres Friday under the Fringe Theatre banner. It is, safe to say, the only show of the season that provides earplugs for the audience.

“In particular the song Brother Rat/ What Slayde Says (by the Canadian punk band NoMeansNo) always stuck with me,” says the multi-faceted Richards, a playwright/ director/ production manager/ sound designer who’s eloquent, and low-volume, in conversation. “In a weird way it’s always said theatre to me…. At 13 I did it as a monologue.”

playwright/director/sound designer/ production manager Erik Richards. Photo supplied

And originally, the nine-minute song, a sort of musical diptych with mysterious narrative possibilities, was “the prelude”  to the play, he says. What the song lyrics gave him, dramatically, was a trio of characters: the main character Robbie (named in honour of Rob Wright who plays in NoMeansNo)

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; Slayde, “an auditory and visual hallucination … a toxic influence, a wormy, snaky character in the song.” And Slayde’s line “I murdered love” suggested the third character, Dianne.

In Brother Rat, the three characters are a band, Theresa Put Down That Knife; “the three actors — Jackson Card, Spenser Kells, Michelle Robb — are all musicians, on guitar, bass, drums. Set at a punk concert in Edmonton, it’s a play that gathered its music gradually, song by song. Richards, a U of A theatre grad, wrote the first draft for an adaptation class: “adapt anything you want into a play, and this was the first thing that sprang to mind.” It didn’t have music.

“When I pitched it to Murray (Fringe Theatre’s artistic director Murray Utas) a couple of years ago, it had two songs. Then it had four songs, then six.” And then, Richards and his musical collaborator Josh Meredith decided “we should just make it an album, so we added two more.”

playwright Erik Richards (centre) and the cast of Brother Rat, ReadyGo Theatre. Photo supplied

Since Brother Rat happens at a concert, the characters don’t ‘break into song’ in a musical theatre way, to move the story along. As Richards, who directs the ReadyGo Theatre production, describes, it isn’t like American Idiot or Rent or Hedwig and the Angry Inch, musicals that live variously on the rock-punk spectrum. “They just don’t sound like the bands I grew up with,” he says. “This is just way harder, way faster, way louder….”

“You have to have a live drum kit onstage, and as soon as you have that, as soon as you get a snare drum and play it as loud as you can (with the other instruments and the voices audio-mixed around that extreme volume), you have to wear earplugs.” Which is what the characters, the director, the designers, the technicians have been doing all day long, every day all through rehearsals. And it’s what we’ll be doing too during performances, taking our cue from the characters as to when we can take them out, and when we should put them back in.

The narrative, as Richards describes, “is about choosing to take care of yourself and the people you love…. It’s about getting up and choosing to keep going.” As he says, “mental illness, substance abuse, houselessness” figure prominently….

“Outside the world of the play the characters are struggling…. They all have experience with the mental wellness sector, and that’s not working for them. Or they’re damaged by the other side of things, choosing to ignore conditions and vices, going down the rocker rabbit hole of drugs and alcohol, and letting mental illness take control.”

“What’s really important for the play is that these aren’t characters with mental health conditions who have never tried getting better,” Richard thinks. “It’s more complicated than ‘their anti-depressants aren’t working’; it’s more complicated than ‘they’ve never tried going to counselling’; it’s more complicated than ‘their parents aren’t supportive’.”

“They’re people who are really angry, which comes out in the music and scenes. It’s not about people who are hopeless or have given up; they want want want to feel better!”

Richards, who wrote all the music with Meredith and is the lyricist, isn’t a punk musician himself, he says, “mostly a fan…. I learned to write music for the show!” They worked from their shared skill set: “Josh is an excellent musician; I like to write songs.” There is no Brother Rat sheet music. The pair taught the music to the cast “by showing them.” There is no pre-recorded sound: “it’s Josh’s idea that every single sound we make onstage is live.”

Richards, an experienced sound designer who has directed the premieres of such Jezec Sanders plays as Hacking and Slashing, and Where Foxes Lie, has written plays before now, “often sound-based,” as he puts it. “Brother Rat is the first time anything I’ve written has been put onstage.”

“I didn’t discover punk music on my own. It wasn’t a phase,” he says with a smile. “I grew up listening to it; it was never weird, or harder than anything else. Most people grow up with Bowie, Prince, the Stones. This was what I grew up with; it’s just my life…. If the song hadn’t been a great story I wouldn’t have written a play with punk music.”

PREVIEW

Brother Rat

Theatre: ReadyGo Theatre

Written by: Erik Richards, music by Erik Richards and Josh Meredith, lyrics by Erik Richards, adapted from the song Brother Rat by NoMeansNo

Directed by: Erik Richards

Starring: Jackson Card, Spenser Kells, Michelle Robb

Where: Backstage Theatre, Fringe Theatre Arts Barns, 10330 84 Ave.

Running: Nov. 29 through Dec. 7

Tickets: fringetheatre.ca

 

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