Fascinating, and nerve-wracking: Cycle pedals a provocation. A review

Andrew Ritchie in Cycle, Thou Art Here Theatre. Photo by Mat Simpson.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

There is something valiant, energizing, and scary as hell, about the show that’s currently spinning its wheels faster and faster at Mile Zero Dance.

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The man we meet in Cycle does something we all know how to do. He rides a bicycle. But here’s the thing:  Andrew Ritchie, the intrepid creator and star of this Thou Art Here Theatre production, rides his bicycle everywhere, in every season, to work, on holiday, in cities, on mountain tops in Bolivia, in theatres.…

And in this fascinating and nerve-wracking solo show — part-memoir, part-documentary, part activist drama on wheels — in a city where ‘bike lane’ is a conversational gambit that could singe your eyebrows, the cyclist stakes a claim. A claim for safe urban space.

Cycle spins under the flag (now tainted by whack-jobs) of “freedom” — of space and movement. And in his appealingly low-key, self-deprecating way, Ritchie challenges the notion, so engrained it’s become an assumption over time, that car and truck drivers are the natural proprietors of the city and its streets. By now we recognize the value of diversity of all sorts in our communities. So why not in modes of transportation?

Who owns a city anyhow? What should the urban ecology be, in this polluted, traffic-clogged world? Cycle asks the questions. And the stakes are high.

Andrew Ritchie in Cycle, Thou Art Here Theatre. Photo by Mat Simpson

Kristi Hansen’s production is an original fusion of inventive physical movement (choreographer: Ainsley Hillyard); projections, live video, vintage footage (designer: T. Erin Gruber); amplified and altered sound effects to alter Ritchie’s voice as other characters (designer: Liv McRobbie). And in the course of the show Cycle makes its case. In the mortal combat between bikes and cars there’s greater safety for both in a more inclusive urban environment.

With its history of “site-sympathetic” Shakespeare shows, The Thou Art Here archive attests to an attraction to non-conventional theatre spaces. As this show opens, Ritchie, atop a bicycle himself, has assembled a bicycle “gang” of half a dozen audience volunteers, also up on bikes onstage. “You could actually fall off,” he warns his cohorts amiably, as they pedal together.

And he consults with the audience directly on how they learned to ride a bike, the most scared they’ve been, and the happiest, on a bicycle. Ah, and whether they wear a helmet. In Amsterdam, probably the world’s most bike-friendly city, most people don’t wear helmets, and there are way fewer fatalities. It’s largely, Ritchie argues, because of the critical mass of cyclists and more cautious behaviour by car drivers.

He’s genuinely curious, and un-judgmental, about what he hears from audience members. And he has a casual free-wheeling performance style that’s in sync with the script and its free-associative vibe. There’s really no reason to resist joining in if you get a chance.

The land acknowledgment isn’t an add-on. The bicycle, after all, is all about a direct connection between rider and the land, the particularities of place — the Edmonton street, the exact intersection, the six-lane chaos of 109th St., the accident-magnet traffic circle at 142 St. and 107 Ave. The sense of the here and now is pretty much built into cycling. Witness the graphic live image of Ritchie, cycling furiously in the centre of a lane of traffic, with the headlights of an F-150 behind him. It lingers. The car and the truck are bound to win in close encounters, and the faster they’re going the more lethal the impact.

I’m getting nervous just thinking about it. And his recounting of a winter nightmare in his time as a bike food courier in Toronto will stick in your mind too, next time you’re figuring out your Uber Eats tip.

Cycle, in short, doesn’t skimp on the dangers of cycling. Truthfully they seem a bit more explicit to this car driver than the subtler joys of “the wind in your hair” on a winter’s evening in snow-bound Edmonton.

“I think about crashing all the time,” Ritchie tells us. But there’s joy to be had, he insists, in a more immediate relationship with the world outside. And there’s a larger principle of fairness, of the livability of cities, to consider. “Bike Lanes are political.” Something to think about that the next time you’re stuck in gridlock on the Whitemud.

REVIEW

Cycle

Theatre: Thou Art Here

Created by and starring: Andrew Ritchie

Directed by: Kristi Hansen

Where: Mile Zero Dance Warehouse (9931 78 Ave.)

Running: through Dec. 22

Tickets: fringetheatre.ca

 

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Embrace your inner elf and get festive, at a holiday show this weekend

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

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

I know, you’re holding out on the festive. And you don’t want to peak too soon. But pick that holly out of your clenched teeth, release your inner elf, succumb to the seasonal jollity, and find yourself a holiday show this weekend. There’s a big choice on Edmonton stages.

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

•The great Canadian theatre artist Ronnie Burkett has brought the magic of his company of marionette actors — and the virtuosity that makes them live and breathe — to Theatre Network. In Little Dickens the cast of the Daisy Theatre, a marionette cabaret with a recurring ensemble of 56 (!) exquisitely crafted characters dressed to the nines, do their own version of A Christmas Carol. It’s a clever, raucous, playfully bawdy affair, semi-improvised by the playwright/ actor/marionettist/  director/ designer (with assistance from a few game volunteers from the audience). Little Dickens is, quite simply, a riot and a spirit-raiser. And you should on no account miss it. It runs through Dec. 22. Tickets: theatrenetwork.ca. Have a peek at the 12thnight review here (and a preview interview with the perpetrator and string-puller here.

A Christmas Carol, Citadel Theatre. 2023 photo by Nanc Price.

•At the Citadel, where the tradition of A Christmas Carol on the mainstage is 25 years old,  Lianna Makuch’s lavish production of the repertoire’s most famous ghost story continues through Dec. 24. The adaptation by playwright David van Belle, set in 1949, finds the frozen-hearted Ebenezer Scrooge (John Ullyatt) as the proprietor of Marley’s department store, implacably rooted to the bottom line. Beautiful costumes, a cunning set, lots of music from the secular post-war repertoire, a live onstage band: it’s deluxe. The entire run is dedicated to Julien Arnold, whose unexpected death during a preview performance of the show, while in the role of the joyful Christmas party host Mr. Fezziwig, has shocked and saddened the valiant director and cast of the production. Tickets: citadeltheatre.com.

The Blank Who Stole Christmas, Rapid Fire Theatre. Photo supplied.

•Rapid Fire Theatre’s original holiday musical The Blank Who Stole Christmas has returned for a third holly jolly season,. Partly scripted, partly improvised, the production features a different guest villain every performance, who plays a character of their choice, a mystery to the cast of improvisers until they step onstage. By report, the Blanks have included Tiny Tim, which tells you something about the improv expertise of the Rapid Fire cast. There are three versions of the show, calibrated for age, sensibility, and susceptibility to the F-bomb. These details, as well as tickets, are available at rapidfiretheatre.com. Through Dec. 22 at RFT’s Exchange Theatre.

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

•Returning this very weekend, for a third figgy pudding season is Grindstone Theatre’s festive holiday tradition, Die Harsh the Christmas Musical. This is what happens when the musical comedy-writing team that gave the world Jason Kenney’s Hot Boy Summer and thunderCats — Byron Martin and Simon Abbott — intertwine their favourite Christmas movie to A Christmas Carol. It’s at the Orange Hub (10045 156 St.) through Dec. 29. Read all about it this 12thnight PREVIEW interview with Martin, here. Tickets: grindstonetheatre.ca.

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

•Ah yes, the festive Yuletide season, a favourite for connoisseurs of family dysfunction. Krampus: A New Musical, by the musical comedy team of Stephen Allred and Seth Gilfillan (Conjoined), cuts through the eggnog. Let’s just say their indie theatre company isn’t called Straight Edge Theatre for nothing. Krampus premiered at the summer Fringe in 2022, which kinda gets at its insurrectionist spirit. The production, enhanced for the mainstage, is part of the Workshop West Playwrights Theatre season at the Gateway Theatre (8529 84 Ave.). It runs through Dec. 22. Tickets: workshopwest.org. Have a peek at the 12thnight PREVIEW.

The Best Little Newfoundland Christmas Pageant Ever, Whizgiggling Productions. 2022 photo supplied.

•Welcome to the Rock. Whizgiggling Productions, the indie theatre named after the irresistible Newfoundland lingo for acting silly — it’s not a disclaimer, it’s a proud mantra — returns this weekend with the 15th annual edition of their signature holiday show. The Best Little Newfoundland Pageant … Ever (adapted from the much-loved Barbara Robinson novel) takes us behind the scenes of the high-stress world of amateur theatricals.

The replacement director of the annual Christmas pageant is dismayed to find that the dread Herdmans, “the worst kids in school,” show up for the auditions and claim all the best parts. Can disaster be averted? It’s at the Backstage Theatre Friday through Sunday. Tickets: fringetheatre.ca.

•And if sight of falling snow has lost its lustre for you (even more than the sound of Mariah Carey) you can go on holiday, and hang out pool-side at a Mexican all-inclusive, with Girl Brain. Weekend at Girlies is the holiday offering from Edmonton’s favourite female sketch comedy trio, at Theatre Network’s Roxy. No sunscreen required. It runs through Dec. 22. Tickets: theatrenetwork.com.

Cycle, by and starring Andrew Ritchie, Thou Art Here Theatre. Photo by Mat Simpson

•An intrepid snow transcendent offering for the festive season, Andrew Ritchie’s Cycle, a Thou Art Here Theatre production, is all about movement, bicycles, the joy of cycling in every season, and what it means to live in a city. It runs through Dec. 22 at Mile Zero Dance, 9931 78 Ave. Tickets: fringetheatre.ca.

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Goin’ on holiday with Girl Brain: Weekend at Girlies, at Theatre Network

Ellie Heath, Caley Suliak, Alyson Dicey in Weekend at Girlies, Girl Brain at Theatre Network. Photo by Brianne Jang, bbcollective photography

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

If the view from the collective snowbank is getting you down, your moment to escape is at hand.

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In their new holiday show Weekend at Girlies, opening Thursday in Theatre Network’s Phoenix Series, the hit sketch comedy trio Girl Brain proposes to take you away, to a Mexican all-inclusive.

“Yup, Girl Brain is going to Mexico for the holidays!” says Caley Suliak, post-rehearsal at the Roxy where she and her Girl Brain cohorts (and best friends) are busy cutting out cardboard palm trees for the set. “We all want to go on vacation. But we’re poor artists and we can’t afford to,” says Alyson Dicey. “So we decided to dream up a vacation of our own — onstage.” Says Ellie Heath, “for people who don’t get the opportunity to go, we’ll being the south to you!”

Remember those friends’ trips? Those shared hotels and Airbnbs? Those guys being jackasses in the pool? Girl Brain does. “The friends’ trip is a pretty familiar trope,” says Suliak, to sounds of knowing laughter from under the cardboard palm fronds.  “Some of this draws on real-life experience,” says Dicey. “The way Caley’s suitcase just explodes in hotel rooms, piles of stuff everywhere, for example!”

Since their gig of origin, at Grindstone Comedy Theatre in 2018, the three Girl Brain-iacs have travelled together a lot, to destinations in which comedy festivals (Toronto, Philadelphia, Athabasca, Fairview AB. among them) figure prominently. Cities some distance north from Mexican all-inclusives, in short. But they have actually been south together, to the Orlando Sketch Festival in Florida. “An interesting experience,” says Heath, to general laughter. “We had the most fun by the pool.” And they’ve had first-hand input from the fourth member of the Girl Brain trio, Candice Stollery (their stage manager, “and also lighting designer, technical and moral support,” who’s just back from a Mexi-holiday in Cabot.

The Weekend at Girlies poster (Girl Brain photography, always funny, is by Brianne Jang) is a capture of Heath, Dicey and Suliak in guys-on-spring-break mode. The poster getting spoofed, explains Dicey, is Weekend at Bernie’s, a dumb 1989 flick with “one joke that carries through one whole movie and the sequel.” Old rich guy dies, and his corpse gets puppeted around by two young guys” on the make for his dough.

In the course of Weekend at Girlies, “we all play ourselves. Loosely,” says Heath. But there are also dude portraits, without which no all-inclusive resort experience would be complete. Suliak plays Bernie, “one of the boys who might get to hang out with Girl Brain,” says Dicey.  “He’s one of those quintessential guys who are ‘hey I’m goin’ to Mexico, man; I have four brain cells and three of them are on vacation too’,” as Suliak describes.

Girl Brain, 2019: Ellie Heath, Caley Suliak, Alyson Dicey. Photo by Brianne Jang, bb ccollective photography

“I’ve just been dumped,” says Heath of one of her show characters. “And Alyson is Wingman Tracker who’s trying to find me a potential guy replacement to rebound with.” Ah yes, for their sketches Girl Brain has often tapped into a rich comic vein of dating-gone-wrong stories. “We are drawing from our vast life experience,” Heath laughs. “And we all love playing guys … dude characters that feel stereotypical, but ….” Suliak adds, “but still have some heart.”

Since all three are theatre artists by trade and training, they’re at pains, unsurprisingly,  to find a through-line and arc for their sketch shows. Characters recur; situations are followed up scene to scene. “This the most complete through-line we’ve had,” says Heath. “The different characters who pass through the resort” are a natural reservoir of possibilities. Rapid Fire Theatre star Paul Blinov, a sketch writer himself of note, “has helped punch up the script,” sussing out “where the humour landed, and where it didn’t.”

“So it’s a whole show. But it’s also good for people with a short attention span,” laughs Dicey. “Each scene is only a minute or two long. There’s always that call-back, and you feel you already know those characters, and you feel smart!”

As usual with their shows, which have been at the Roxy since 2019, Weekend at Girlies includes “lots of singing; we love song parodies.” They plunder the ‘80s especially, since the  show builds to a big New Year’s Eve 80s theme party. Says Heath, “hair metal, Madonna, power ballads. All very epic and theatrical!”

And, hey, the show concept gives Girl Brain the chance to showcase special guest stars as ‘resort entertainment’. Accordionist Tiff Hall is one, along with burlesque artist Vira Von Velvet, and drag artist Stretcher Hymen. Each Friday and Saturday of the run there are ‘Readings by Roro” tarot card readings (by donation) in the lobby. And the audience is invited to bring menstrual products to support No Period Without.

PREVIEW

Weekend At Girlies

Comedy troupe: Girl Brain

Written and performed by: Ellie Heath, Alyson Dicey, Caley Suliak

Where: Theatre Network at the Roxy, 10708 124 St.

Running: Thursday through Dec. 22

Tickets: theatrenetwork.ca

 

 

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‘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.

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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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