Up close and chilling: a small-scale Sweeney Todd for our time, from the Plain Janes

Sheldon Elter and Kristi Hansen in Sweeney Todd, Plain Jane Theatre Company. Photo by dbphotographics

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

“Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd/ He served a dark and vengeful god….”

Starting Friday in a small and intriguing downtown space (CO*LAB), up close enough to smell blood, Plain Jane Theatre brings us a small-cast chamber revival of Stephen Sondheim’s grisly and glorious 1979 musical masterpiece.

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In the 60-seat house we’ll be virtually eyeball to eyeball with “the demon barber of Fleet Street,” the escaped convict of 19th century penny dreadful melodrama fame — a tonsorial pro who returns in a murderous rage from unjust exile to exact his revenge on the corrupt judge who’s destroyed his family and his happiness. There he’ll be, Sweeney Todd, with his trusty razors and his resourceful accomplice Mrs. Lovett, who — waste not want not — bakes the corpses of his murdered clients into meat pies.

As Sondheim himself explained in Finishing The Hat, the first part of his wonderful two-part musical diary, he was a big fan of horror stories and horror film scores, like Bernard Hermann’s for Hangover Square. And Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street was inspired by chancing upon Christopher Bond’s version of the period melodrama in a little black box London theatre, played for comedy. 

As director Kate Ryan says of her eight-member Sweeney Todd cast — led by the husband and wife team of Sheldon Elter and Kristi Hansen as the unwholesome couple — “we can really lean into the characters of a piece that Sondheim had always intended to be intimate, small, connected to the audience….” One location, minimalist, small chamber musical dimensions: “it totally works in a Janes sort of way. ” 

Intimate, small … two adjectives that, along with ‘minimalist’, are music to Plain Jane ears. The Broadway premiere, directed by Hal Prince, had a cast of two dozen or more and the massive factory design onstage. But since then there have been ingeniously small-scale stagings, including John Doyle’s 2005 staging in which the cast (led by Michael Cerveris and Patti LuPone) also played instruments, and an eight-actor 2014 English production that happened in London’s oldest pie-and-mash shop.

As Ryan explains, the setting of the Plain Janes Sweeney Todd is contemporary, the lunch room in a meat-packing plant. “We wanted a place near blood, inspired by stories of meat!” she says cheerfully. Says Hansen, “the workers have decided to tell the story,” and they grab what’s at hand to assist them — hats, gloves, hairnets, blades.

In this enterprise they have a real-life meat consultant in the person of Sweeney Todd himself. Elter worked in the meat department at the IGA in Peace River from the time he was in Grade 7 to his second year of college. “It was a good job,” he says with a grin. “Lots of blood, bone dust, cuts, stitches….” And the young Elter was on an upward career trajectory. “I started as a cleaner, moved up to grinding hamburger,” and first aid courses later, “eventually I started to learn how to cut meat.” The bosses wanted to send him to a certification course, but in the end (luckily for theatre audiences) “becoming a butcher wasn’t really what I wanted to do with my life.” 

In this late-pandemic “I knew I needed to challenge myself,” says Ryan of the first complete Sondheim she’s directed in a career of bringing musicals of every size, shape and profile to the stage. “And I always knew that at some point I needed to work on Sondheim…. The work is always ongoing. You never feel like ‘Oh, we nailed that!’. I knew we’d be constantly learning about this piece,” incidentally one of only two of his musicals initiated by Sondheim himself (the other is Passion), as she points out. 

“His characters and their relationships are complex, messy, driven by huge passionate desires…. What Sondheim has done for all of us is to celebrate all sides of the human experience, the dark, complex, demanding sides. Sweeney Todd is a piece about obsession, revenge. And how we all have those feelings in us.” 

“AND he’s funny, witty, he’s made us laugh at ourselves, our faults, anxieties, doubts,” says Ryan of the particular achievement of Sondheim in “riding the line between horror and hilarity” in Sweeney Todd. “And he puts it in a strong, strictly structured musical platform. It’s cathartic but it feels safe.” Ryan revisits “safe,” and laughs. “Safe, but it’s so hard, so musically difficult!” 

She particularly appreciates the collaboration with musical director Shannon Hiebert, who spends most of her time in the opera world. And the cast includes a mix of veteran musical theatre talents (like Josh Travnik as the Beadle and Vance Avery as the Judge) and newcomers, some with opera specialties. “We’re all learning from each other,” says Ryan “I love when worlds collide!” 

“I love the idea of overwhelming the audience,” says Hansen of the intimate CO*LAB venue where that collision happens. “The show is swirling in the space. And we are an ensemble of storytellers.”

Elter and Hansen have been in Plain Jane musicals before now (It’s A Bird, It’s A Plane It’s Superman for the former, Fiorello! for the latter). Sweeney Todd was gold star “bucket list,” says Hansen. “And “a chance for us to get to do this together” was the capper. 

They’ve been in casts together, Freewill Shakespeare Festival productions in the park among them. But not since Romeo and Juliet in 2006 have they been in leading roles directly with each other. They’re amused by the idea of Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett as the natural follow-up to their Romeo and Juliet.

Elter comes to Sondheim after a Dora Award-winning performance in Where The Blood Mixes in Toronto (“one of the most incredible, rewarding experiences of my career!”), and the pairing of Queen Goneril and King Lear at Soulpepper. Hansen is the producer of the Maggie Tree production of The Wolves just ended at the Citadel. 

Like Ryan, they’re struck by the aptness of Sweeney Todd and the Industrial Revolution setting of the original tale for our own moment in history. “Hard-done-by people struggling to live,” says Hansen of the rapidly receding sense of the human community. “‘It’s man devouring man, my dear’,” says Elter, quoting Mr. Todd’s interjection in Mrs. Lovett’s show-stopper A Little Priest.

“There’s something indelibly wrong right now, a society pushing back in human rights,” says Ryan. “The (new) industrial age has dehumanized people, and has turned us against each other.” Is authority inherently corrupt and self-justifying? “We’re seeing our own systems that protect us are turning against us. Even in Canada…. Something needs to change; voices need to be heard.”

“What happens if they’re not, if there’s no action? What drives us to the razor?”  

“It’s not a case of the good guy wins,” as Ryan says. “Anyhow, who is the good guy? Who are these people? There’s a Sweeney in all of us. There’s a Lovett in all of us.” 

PREVIEW

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Theatre: The Plain Jane Theatre Company

Written by: Stephen Sondheim, book by Hugh Wheeler based on the play by Christopher Bond

Directed by: Kate Ryan

Starring: Sheldon Elter, Kristi Hansen, Vance Avery, Josh Travnik, Erin Selin, Aran Wilson-McAnally, Jacqueline Hernandez, Mark Sinongco

Where: CO*LAB, 9641 102 A Ave.

Running: Nov. 11 to 20

Tickets: at the door or  tickettailor.com

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On the right track, baby: Vegas Live at the Mayfield, a review

Larissa Poho, Nick Sheculski, Sam Jamieson, Melissa MacPherson, Devra Straker in Vegas Live, Mayfield Theatre. Photo by Ian Jackson.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Vegas. The time-honoured holiday fixer-upper for when you want to take a load off, shed your inhibitions and quite a few layers of your clothes, stay up way late, drink giddy drinks, get married, beam come-hither smiles at strangers, use your Westjet points.  

The fun of the big, lavish, flashy, full-sequined, full-body holiday revue that’s singing and dancing its Spandex pants off at the Mayfield is that Vegas Live has given the ‘old Vegas’ of the ‘50s the hook. 

The Rat Pack is nowhere to be seen. Elvis is apparently on research sabbatical. The only lounge lizard is inflatable and prehistoric (shhh, it’s a surprise). And whenever a vintage Vegas is invoked, Vegas Live updates — as in contemporary versions of The Temptations’ Get Ready or Smokey Robinson’s The Tracks of My Tears (Jahlen Barnes). Or else it’s in the key of playful mockery. In a brief appearance Wayne Newton (Brad Wiebe) keeps nodding off mid-song, and has to lie down onstage, a musical corpse with his own pillow. 

Compiled and written by the Mayfield’s team of mystery man Will Marks and Gerrad Everard, the show is a tribute to the Las Vegas of now —  an entertainment capital that’s a destination for some of the world’s hottest contemporary stars in rock, pop, country, soul, funk.… And its larger idea of having a wide cultural embrace does not go amiss in this place (we’re looking at you Alberta) and these parlous, marginalizing times.    

Vegas club owner Bobby (Nick Scheculski) enters at the start, in fishnets and full Frankenfurter mode, “just a sweet transvestite from Transexual, Transylvania.” And he sets the tone with a worldly shrug: acceptance, welcome to all, come as you are, “embrace your inner monologue,” “send your gender on a bender.” The theme song, so to speak, reprised in Act II, is Lady Gaga’s “I’m on the right track baby, I was born this way,” and Pamela Gordon nails it.  

Bobby’s onstage companion and fellow narrator (Melissa MacPherson), sweetly dazed, libidinous, and no respecter of boundaries (including taste), has evidently embraced her inner stoner chick. You may tire of this chirpy character in the course of the evening and even perhaps fantasize about nailing a sequined tarp over her. She is, however, a veritable archive of old and mouldy nudge-nudge jokes in a new package.

Pamela Gordon (centre) in Vegas Live, Mayfield Theatre. Photo by Ian Jackson.

Anyhow, an ensemble cast of 10 with major musical endowments (including taking a turn or two on banjo, trombone, trumpet, violin) throw themselves into a huge repertoire in every style. And they’re accompanied by an expert five-member band (musical director Van Wilmott). The sound, as always at the Mayfield, is impeccable. 

The visuals are striking. All of the above co-habit, in assorted permutations, a glitzy two-level set, one of the Mayfield’s biggest ever, designed by John Dinning. It speaks to the improbable, a Vegas specialty: a fantasy showroom framed by a glowing translucent neon proscenium that changes colours, translucent walls, gilt palm trees. And there’s an upper-level balcony stage surrounded by flashing lightbulbs (lighting design by Leigh Ann Vardy) across which Matt Schuurman’s ever-inventive projections dance, sometimes in abstract designs, sometimes in shadow play. 

And the songs (and Ivan Brozic’s costumes, all glitter and Spandex) keep coming.  

Kudos to choreographer (and, with Wilmott, co-director) Robin Calvert, whose inspirations are detailed, and amusing in every scene. Justin Timberlake’s Can’t Stop The Feeling probably has the show mantra wrapped up, “Ain’t nobody leaving’ soon so keep dancing….” Honourable mention to Garth Brooks (Brad Wiebe): “ain’t goin’ down ’til the sun comes up.” There’s even a barroom brawl as the Act I closer. This is a very busy, versatile cast.

Highlights, to pick a few, include Devra Straker digging into Cher’s If I Could Turn Back Time, Gordon having her way with Alan’s Morissette’s You Oughta Know, Sam Jamieson with Britney Spears’ Toxic, Sheculski with Hozier’s clever Take Me To Church, amusingly staged with a six-member robed choir. 

The most audacious choice, arguably, is Elton John’s The Circle of Life, from The Lion King though, to be fair, that musical has actually played Vegas in a shortened form. To me, setting Pink’s open letter Dear Mr. President (“how do you sleep while the rest of us cry?”) to projections of the current war in Ukraine is a misstep: it exhorts a Bush presidency long gone.

No one has ever accused the Mayfield of being stingy with music; this is a fulsome song list and like Vegas itself an evocation of the shiny spirit of showbiz. And there’s going to be a part 2 next year. What happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas. As Hozier tells us, “I’m a pagan of the good times.”

REVIEW

Vegas Live

Theatre: Mayfield Dinner Theatre

Created and compiled by: Van Wilmott and Gerrad Everard

Directed by: Van Wilmott and Robin Calvert

Starring: Jahlen Barnes, Trevor Coll (Gabriel Antonacci Jan. 10 to 22), Pamela Gordon, Amelia Hironaka, Sam Jamieson, Melissa MacPherson, Larissa Poho, Nick Checulski, Devra Straker, Brad Wiebe

Running: through Jan. 22

Tickets: 780-483-4051, mayfieldtheatre.ca 

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Face the dusk: off the couch everyone, and into the theatre this weekend

Daniela Vlaskalic in Dora Maar: the wicked one, GAL Productions with Hit & Myth. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Our outdoor colour scheme has gone monochromatic; something weird has happened to the evening lighting. There is an obvious fix: face the gathering darkness, arise from the couch and go to the theatre.

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There’s been a heartening proliferation of new plays so far this month (with more to come). And three of them are ending their runs this weekend, so it’s the moment to show some hustle. 

•At Workshop West, a new Beth Graham and Daniela Vlaskalic play, Dora Maar: the wicked one, gets an exceptionally  charismatic performance by Vlaskalic as the French photographer — a brilliant innovator in her own right, who finds her wings melted by a relationship with the most famous artist in the world, Pablo Picasso. As Dora Vlaskalic single-handedly conjures the exuberant, glittering world of Paris in the ‘30s, on the brink of a cataclysmic darkening toward the end of the decade. And then, the artist who inspired and documented Picasso’s great anti-war painting Guernica found herself tumbling into obscurity. A riveting story, elegantly staged by Blake Brooker in a GAL/ Hit & Myth production. The 12thnight review is here, and an interview with the co-playwrights and director Brooker here. It runs through Sunday. Tickets: workshopwest.org.  

Davina Stewart in Squeamish, Northern Light Theatre. Photo by Ian Jackson, Epic Photography.

•At Northern Light Theatre, Squeamish, a creepy solo thriller, has its doubts about the much-vaunted quest for self-knowledge. It’s a bona fide 90-minute tour de force, starring Davina Stewart as a therapist sitting in the shadows tells the story of her own first-hand experience of the aftermath of a funeral. And it escalates — from unsettling to disturbing to horrifying. Aaron Mark’s play is an experiment in seeing what words, storytelling, can do to your equilibrium. 

Read the whole 12thnight review here (and an interview with Stewart, director/designer Trevor Schmidt, and stage manager Liz Allison-Jorde here). It runs through Saturday at the Studio Theatre in the ATB Financial Arts Barn. Tickets: northernlighttheatre.com.

Steven Greenfield, Andrea House, Elena Porter in The Wrong People Have Money, Shadow Theatre. Photo by Ian Jackson, Epic Photography.

At Shadow Theatre, Reed McColm’s The Wrong People Have Money — the title, admit it, a phrase we all regularly use and sigh — spins a comedy from a university class assignment that gets co-opted by big money. The proposition: relocating Greenland a couple of thousand miles south in the Atlantic to a more hospitable tourist-friendly location. The fun is in the comic performances, led by Julien Arnold as the star professor, Andrea House and Steven Greenfield as his go-fers, Linda Grass as the mysterious and glamorous capitalist, and Elena Porter as a lawyer with ethical concerns that are ignored by everyone in the play. Read the full 12thnight review here, and an interview with the playwright here. It runs through Sunday at the Varscona. Tickets: shadowtheatre.org, 780-434-5564.

AND

playwright Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman. Photo by Hannah Endicott-Douglas.

A new Canadian holiday musical starts previews Saturday at the Citadel, the theatre that commissioned it, in a Daryl Cloran production. Almost A Full Moon is by the notable playwright Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman, a triple-generation story set to the songs of Hawksley Workman’s 2001 Christmas album of the same name. 12thnight talked to the playwright here. It runs through Nov. 27. Tickets: 780-425-1820, citadeltheatre.com.

At the Mayfield, Vegas Live! is up and shaking its sequins (through Jan 27), with a new holiday Will Marks/ Gerrard Everard gathering of hits from the pop, rock, soul, country repertoires. Tickets: mayfieldtheatre.ca, 780-483-4051.

The Thousand Faces Festival turns the big one-o with CanNatyam: Classical Dance, a showcase of five styles of Indian classical dance, tonight (Nov. 4) and Sunday at La Cité francophone. Tickets: TIX on the Square (tixonthesquare.ca). 

At Concordia University’s CUE Theatre, the run of Meg Braem’s Chrysothemis, a student production directed by Patricia Darbasie, ends on on Sunday. See history’s most famous dysfunctional family, the House of Atreus, from the perspective of Electra’s older sister Chrysothemis, the obscure sister who didn’t even get her own Greek play — till now. Tickets: TIX on the Square (tixonthesquare.ca) or at the door.  

 

 

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Capturing a complicated holiday: a new Canadian musical by Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman, with songs by Hawksley Workman

playwright Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman. Photo by Hannah Endicott-Douglas.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

“It’s the first snow of the year/ Guess it happens once a year….” from Almost A Full Moon, Hawksley Workman

“Christmas is a complicated holiday,” says playwright Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman, pausing to consider the multiple facets of that show-stopping calendar centrepiece. “So so complicated. Well, it’s about family. And family is complicated.” 

It’s the raison d’être of Almost A Full Moon. the new Canadian holiday musical commissioned by the Citadel, where it officially premieres next week in a production directed by Daryl Cloran. It’s set to the evergreen 20-year-old Christmas album of that name, a sort of seasonal song cycle by Canadian indie rocker/ singer-songwriter Hawksley Workman. And it has lured Toronto-based Corbeil-Coleman, one of the country’s younger generation of playwriting stars (Scratch, The End of Pretending, Guarded Girls), into the world of musicals for the first time. Ah, and into writing about a holiday with which, as she says, “I have a very complicated relationship myself….”

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“That for me was THE most nerve-wracking part of signing on to this project,” Corbeil-Coleman says. Hers is a holiday history steeped in sorrow. “My mother (novelist and arts journalist Carole Corbeil) died when I was young. And what had been this really magical holiday became all about really missing someone, about grief.”

And both the idea and the circumstances of creating a multi-generational show about family — finding one, having one, being in one — have been “transformative” in redeeming the beauty and joy of the holiday season for her, as Corbeil-Coleman explains in her exuberant way. A joint inspiration of the Citadel artistic director Daryl Cloran (who’s talked about his family’s annual bonding with the album) and Workman, the notion of the musical floated her way in 2018. 

For her, its creation is part of a birth and rebirth story. She smiles. “Having a child really did transform Christmas,” says Corbeil-Coleman, who’s married to Globe and Mail theatre critic Kelly Nestruck. “I found out I was pregnant when I had my first official meeting,” she says. “I pitched Daryl and Hawksley my idea. And they were so excited, so generous, so I just went for it!” Four months after the birth of her son Dash in 2019, she wrote the first draft of Almost a Full Moon. “And we’ve been developing it ever since,” she says of a show history that has included five weeks with the late lamented Canadian Musical Theatre Project at Sheridan College, a Zoom workshop as part of the Citadel’s Collider Festival and a live Christmas concert version last year. 

And now, as opening night approaches, Corbeil-Coleman, pregnant again and due in February, laughs that she is making a second baby in addition to a first musical. And actually she has a second musical (with Greg Morrison of Drowsy Chaperone fame) in gestation, too. 

Hawksley Workman. Photo supplied.

One of the draws of an Almost A Full Moon musical for her was that she is by her own description “a huge Hawksley fan… I saw him in concert when I was 17 or 18, and it transformed me. I became obsessed. His sound, his writing … there is something in his music that really spoke to me.” Later in the playwriting program at the National Theatre School, he was her creative soundscape. “I wrote to his music…. If I could go back in time and my 20-year-old self (got told) I’d be writing a musical with this person some day, I’d have lost it!”

Corbeil-Coleman was both an actor and a playwright when she co-wrote (with her best friend Emily Sugarman) and performed in her first play The End of Pretending in 2001. She grew up surrounded by writers and theatre artists (her dad is actor/director Layne Coleman). “But it was the death of my mom (in 2000) that really made me a writer,” she thinks. “It was for me a real coping mechanism at the beginning…. It was the tool I had to express myself, and I really needed to express myself.” 

Post-NTS, she pretty much stopped acting (“I was much happier writing”). An exception, though, was her contribution this past year to Year of the Rat, a series of original solo pieces commissioned by Factory Theatre, and streamed live from each playwright’s own home. Corbeil-Coleman’s Want Now (a title borrowed from the immediate demands of toddler Dash) had to do with living in a house bequeathed to her by her surrogate mother, playwright/actor Linda Griffiths (who passed away in 2014), always wondering if she’s “acting” her life. “When I’m telling my own story, being the face of it … I’m interested in that kind of storytelling.” 

What is it about Workman’s music that appeals so strongly? “I felt very familiar with his voice…. It’s a sense of humour that really aligns with my humour,” she considers. “And leading with the heart: that also runs in my work.” 

“He captures a feeling really really well,” she says of Workman’s gift for storytelling through music. And, as his history as a cabaret performance artist attests — witness his cabaret The God That Comes — Workman is a musician strikingly tuned to theatricality, and to characters as the ‘voices’ of his songs. “I was really able to feel the story coming off of them.. I did a lot of listening, a lot of imagining and letting the images come!” 

In short, “I knew this was a match that could work,” she says. “Now I’ve listened so much to his music. And I wake up every morning with another song from a musical in my head!” The song list from the musical — 10 actors strong with a six-member band — is joined by songs from elsewhere in the Workman canon. “Always room for discovery!” 

“When I was pitching my idea, I explained that I had different relationships with Hawksley’s music at different stages of my life.… That’s what so wonderful about music. About any art, right? You can explore it when you’re a teenager, and in your 20s or 30s it changes….”  

That thought has found its way into the structure of Corbeil-Coleman’s new musical, with its weave of generations, of three stories from different time periods. “I was interested in having people share songs in different times, and having it mean something different….”   

For the playwright it’s been important that the musical capture the holiday, “in all its beauty, the complications, and yes the sadness…. I wanted people to be able to bring all their feelings to the musical and feel they were seen a little.”

As for three-year-old Dash, who’s visiting from Toronto for a week, he’ll be bringing his own excitement to the theatre — though perhaps not to the house seats. ‘We’ll bring him in for part of the music rehearsal,’ says Corbeil-Coleman, who doesn’t quite trust Dash yet not to talk and ask questions out loud all the way through the show. “Because he just loves music. Ryan (musical director Ryan DeSouza) is going to take him down to the pit to meet the band. I’ll be great!”

PREVIEW

Almost A Full Moon

Theatre: Citadel

Written by: Charlotte Corbeil-Coleman

Music by: Hawksley Workman

Directed by: Daryl Cloran

Starring: Alicia Barban, Felix deSousa, Chariz Faulmino, Peter Fernandes, Kayden Forsberg, Kendrick Mitchell, Amanda Mella Rodriguez, Luc Tellier, Lyne Tremblay, Patricia Zentilli

Running: Nov. 5 to 27

Tickets: 780-425-1820, citadeltheatre.com 

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Love takes us backstage at a kids’ TV show: Die-Nasty lathers up for a new season of Monday night episodes

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Suds alert: We’re backstage at DNTV, a television studio where tensions are on red alert and the real drama happens in this age of streaming. 

TV executives, actors both human and puppet, camera people, script writers and doctors, directors, production assistants, make-up artists, assorted showbiz egos are working up a lather. Studio boss Sidney Caulfield (Tom Edwards) is clutching his two top shows: Helping Hands for kids and the reality show Thirst Trap Island for, you know, the seekers of guilty pleasures.  

What could possibly go wrong, right?

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Die-Nasty, Edmonton’s deluxe Canadian Comedy Award-winning improv company, returns Monday night with a new season. And like its immediate predecessor Die-Nasty’s 32nd year of live all-improvised serial soap, Love, Death, and Doctors divides the season into three eight-week mini-series. The first, which runs Monday nights through Dec. 19) is set backstage in the TV studio, “a cross between 30 Rock, Sesame Street and Noises Off.” The second, Death, is a murder mystery lit in noir-ish tones. The third, Doctors, is something medical, which implies that the odd corpse may be involved.   

In uncertain times, improvisers (who tend to come from the theatre in this theatre town) are way more able to commit short-term, as the company’s new co-artistic director Jason Hardwick (who shares the gig with Delia Barnett) explains. And “after a rocky two years” of pandemical hard-scrabble it makes sense to start with Love, he says. “Die-Nasty has always been such a fun-loving place and it had started to feel like ‘real work’. I just want to get that family feeling back…. I want this to be a fun place to be.” 

Hardwick, a dancer and tap-dancer specialist by trade (and a Grant MacEwan musical theatre grad “in the Tim Ryan years”), laughs. “I learned everything I know about acting doing Die-Nasty with (the likes of) Jeff Haslam, Cathleen Rootsaert, Stephanie Wolfe….” He first guested on Die-Nasty in “the Italian fashion year,” as Bob Fussy. And “the Tennessee Williams year” was a Hardwick favourite too. 

What he and Barnett are after, he says, is “soapy layers,” a mingling of drama and laughter. “We’re funny, we’re serious, we’re funny because we’re serious.… It can be over the top, big choices, a heightened sense of reality.” Ellen Chorley is the director of Love. And she’s a perfect fit: a playwright, the director of Nextfest and the artistic director of both a kids’ theatre company (Promise Productions) and a burlesque troupe (Send in the Girls). 

The idea of puppet characters mingling with human characters was his. “Bonkers,” he admits cheerfully. “All of us love puppets!” he says of the discovery at preliminary workshops that the ensemble is full of people who live with them. “Who knew?” His own blue wide-mouthed puppet, featured on the poster, may well turn out to be a production assistant, or an ingenue. 

The prevailing idea of Die-Nasty that sets it apart, is a dramatic storyline, made up on the spot before your very eyes, that plays out in weekly instalments. It’s so fluent, so expert, that you sometimes have to wonder if it’s scripted and rehearsed: it’s not. 

Hardwick and Barnett are planning a new website (“with a catch-up feature: what happened last week?”) and a newsletter. Every Monday night, after the improvisers briefly introduce their characters (“the hot 30s”), he’s thinking of a “Previously On … with three lines from the previous episodes. Yup, stolen from Netflix.”

In the new year,  after Love, mystery novelist Janice MacDonald returns to direct the murder mystery series Death. Everything about Doctors, the finale 8-week mini-series, is to be announced. 

Die-Nasty star Stephanie Wolfe has long referred to Die-Nasty as “bowling night.” Hardwick laughs. “This is bowling night, with a bowling trophy.”

PREVIEW

Love

Die-Nasty: The Live Improvised Soap Opera

Directed by: Ellen Chorley

Starring: Stephanie Wolfe, Kristi Hansen, Jason Hardwick, Vincent Forcier, Nikki Hulowski, Kelly Turner, Delia Barnett, Joey Lucius, Gordie Lucius, Kirsten Throndson. With special guests

Where: Varscona Theatre, 10329 83 Ave.

Running: Mondays (starting Oct. 31) through Dec. 19, followed by two other 8-week mini-series

Tickets: dienastysoaps.com/tickets or at the door

     

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Flying too near the sun: the hunger for artistic inspiration in Dora Maar: the wicked one, a review

Daniela Vlaskalic in Dora Mar: the wicked one, GAL Productions with Hit & Myth. Photo by Ian Jackson, Epic Photography.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Images of fire, flames, burning, melting are everywhere in Dora Maar: the wicked one, a compelling new solo play by Beth Graham and Daniela Vlaskalic (The Drowning Girls, Comrades, Mules) presented by Workshop West Playwrights Theatre to launch their new season.

At its centre is an insight into the high price tag on artistic inspiration. We meet an artist who plays with fire to be near a heat source.

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The most famous artist in the world, both a heavy-hitter and a celebrity, is in the play. But Picasso isn’t onstage. The stage, bare save for two photography lights, belongs to Dora Maar, an innovative French photographer, 29 when she met the 55-year-old star painter, at the start of her own bright career. Ah, as she says at the outset, the moment “when life was a hydrogen balloon, going up and up and up.” 

Dora’s story loops back, again and again, to the Greek myth of Icarus, who leapt into the wild blue yonder on his wax and feather wings, flew too close to the sun, thrilled by its beauty and his own freedom — and plummeted into the sea.  

It’s not easy to capture the heat of inspiration onstage (as we know from the deadening experience watching characters with furrowed brows bent furiously over their computers or in front of their easels). In Dora Maar, best known since the 30s and 40s as Picasso’s lover, model, and muse, Graham and Vlaskalic have fashioned a character irresistibly attracted to the seductive energy of creation, in herself and in others. She expresses herself in playful, extravagant ways. “He burns so brightly,” she says of Picasso. “We drink to the agony of creation … we drink to the shape of my earlobe!” she laughs, reporting the high-wattage of her new relationship.  

The mercurial character we meet in Vlaskalic’s alert, charismatic performance has a kind of confident sparkle at the outset; she exults in her world — her friendships with the big shots of Surrealism, her experiments in marrying photography to Surrealism in original montages. Even her commercial photographs, for high-end fashion and booze clients, have bold weirdness to them: severed limbs, bizarre contortions, a ceiling that’s a floor, human chandelier, a Chanel-draped model with a cut-out star for a head. Dora wants to surprise, and she “likes being seen.” 

Daniela Vlaskalic in Dora Maar: the wicked one, GAL Productions with Hit & Myth. Photo supplied.

Additionally (and perhaps this is the photographer in her), she brings a leftist spirit to her aesthetic. She’s hip to the dark political drift to the right in the late ‘30s and feels the responsibility of expressing that in art. The play’s multi-faceted portrait of the artist — photographer, painter, documentarian, poet — is in sync with Picasso’s celebrated portraits of Dora Maar — all intersecting planes, fractures, distortions, in profile and full-face simultaneously. She seems to look in several directions at the same time, and inwardly too. So does this new play, that premiered this past spring at the High Performance Rodeo in Calgary.

One of the appeals of the play, and of Dora Maar as its amused observer, is the eloquent capture of a City of Light milieu and period that seems fantastical to us now. Paris in the ‘30s, “another party, another chateau,” more champagne, more sex, outrageous influencers who were actually talented, Man Ray emerging from a birdcage where he’s been “taking pictures of his penis … again!” An astonishing array of groundbreakers, where the answer to every question is “why don’t you ask Gertrude Stein?” There is, as per Dora Maar’s fascinating survey of a world soon to be at war, a lot to lose. Peter Moller’s evocative modernist soundscape, with its ominous undercurrents, glints with memories.

As Blake Brooker’s elegantly minimalist staging conveys, Dora Maar had found her light, in the cross-beam of two lamps. And her fall from sky into the darkness of a full-fledged breakdown, is a tragic one, as we see vividly in Vlaskalic’s performance. It’s an image captured by the stage’s sole embellishment — two birds, one with melted wings by T. Erin Gruber, and by the dramatic lighting designed by David Fraser. After a decade in which Dora Maar has supported, even propelled, Picasso through dangers and terrors of the Occupation, their passionate, tempestuous relationship (“beyond sex, beyond love, beyond comprehension”) stops.  

Having supplanted both his wife (the Russian ballerina Olga Khokhlova) and his mistress (Marie-Thérèse Walter, the mother of his daughter) as lover and muse, Dora, feisty and outspoken, is replaced, brutally, by a younger more compliant woman. The cruelty of an artist who needs fresh young blood for inspiration is shocking. Picasso the bull is a beast. And the insight into artistic creation and the magnetism of power, fame, and ego is tough-minded, to say the least.

The vivacious young artist, who revels in new ideas, seems almost physically reduced, to the vanishing point. Vlaskalic’s performance lingers in the mind.

The playwrights and director Blake Brooker talked to 12thnight in a PREVIEW. Check it out here.

Dora Maar: the wicked one

Theatre: GAL Productions with Hit & Myth, presented by Workshop West Playwrights Theatre

Written by: Beth Graham and Daniela Vlaskalic

Directed by: Blake Brooker

Starring: Daniela Vlaskalic

Where: The Gateway Theatre, 8529 Gateway Blvd.

Running: through Nov. 6

Tickets: workshopwest.org

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Theatres are haunted places. A ghostly meet-and-greet in Dead Centre of Town XIII

Dead Centre of Town, Catch the Keys Productions. Photo by Mat Simpson.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Imagine, if you will, a place where where live people are haunted by imaginary people. Where they inhabit the lives of others, and stories come to life when the lights are out. A place of strange rituals, where “break a leg!” is a slogan of good luck….  

Yes, theatres are genuinely eerie places. They’re inhabited by ghosts — of people who existed and people who were imagined by people who existed.

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Catch the Keys Productions knows where the bodies are buried. For their 13th nocturnal excursion into our our civic history Dead Centre of Town takes us into a real theatre, the vintage Capitol Theatre on 1920 Street in Fort Edmonton Park. It’s a beautiful reproduction of a theatre (c. 1929) that was once to be found on Jasper Avenue, in the heart of a lively entertainment district that is no more.  

It’s one of their best. Even when theatres are dark, they’re never really empty, after all. There’s always a single ‘ghost light’ hanging over the stage, just to make sure the resident phantoms feel at home. 

Fort Edmonton at night is a shivery spot; you’re walking into the graveyard where the secrets of our macabre civic history lie slumbering. And, as playwright Megan Dart has found, stories can come to life. As always in Dead Centre of Town, you start around a bonfire under the dark sky, the traditional gathering place of ghost stories and their tellers.  

Colin Matty, Dead Centre of Town, Catch the Keys Productions. Photo by Marc J Chalifoux

Expertly managed by pale spectres (Christine Lesiak and Adam Keefe look freshly dug up, so to speak), and narrated by tall lanky Colin Matty, Beth Dart’s production immerses us in the mysterious world of theatre. It’s crammed with theatre stuff, old costumes, ropes, heads where wigs once stood (designed by John and Kat Evans and Ian Walker). We loop from onstage to backstage, through the dimly lit hallways of the theatre labyrinth the audience never gets to see into prop rooms, the shop where sets were made. We see the view from the house seats, we hear the ghostly sound of two hands clapping. Where’s the laughter coming from? (designer: Michael Caron). We find ourselves in the lobby, the portal to the so-called “real” world. 

And we meet the unruly theatre ghosts who never sleep because, as we all know, theatre is all-consuming. There’s the projectionist at the Garneau Theatre who may have met a terrible fate (Jake Tkaczyk); the ‘princess’ of the Princess Theatre (Sarah Emslie); the undead fireman (Murray Farnell) who haunts the ex-firehall Walterdale Theatre; the ghost of the Bus Barns (Max Hanic) where the Fringe now creates theatre. And we meet an uncanny little girl (Dayna Lee Hoffman) who seems to know every nook and cranny of the Capitol. 

“Edmonton’s only live action thriller” has found its natural home. You have till Sunday to catch it there (7:30 and 9:30 p.m. nightly).  Tickets (which can be bundled with Dark): fortedmontonpark

12thnight talks to playwright Megan Dart in this preview.

 

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‘Everyday horror’ mined for comedy: that’s Girl Brain, and they’re back

Caley Suliak, Ellie Heath, Alyson Dicey of Girl Brain, in the luxury bathroom at Theatre Network. Photo by Brianne Jang, bb collective.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

There’s nothing like a pandemic to make a sketch comedy trio revel in being together again — in person, in a spanky theatre, rehearsing a new show, with a fog machine. 

“Where are we?” says Ellie Heath in something like wonder. “The delight! The excitement! We’re like little girls at a sleepover putting on a show for our parents….”

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Where Girl Brain is this weekend, Thursday through Sunday, is the beautiful Lorne Cardinal black box theatre at Theatre Network’s Roxy. Where Heath, Alyson Dicey and Caley Suliak were to be found Monday afternoon is in their separate apartments, in the living room called Zoom sharing a screen. 

It’s especially sweet to be doing a live in-person full-length show, says Suliak, after a summer of busy-ness in which the three had very separate gigs, positive reinforcement for the link between sketch comedy and theatre. Both she and Heath had solo Fringe shows, The Paladin and Fake n’ Bake respectively, the one at La Cité francophone and the other at the Roxy. Dicey got bronzed out in the sun in a perpetual motion multi-tasking assignment running the KidsFringe. They’ve been writing sketches for the new show ever since. 

Togetherness, just hanging out, seems like a treat. “So great to be collaborating with my besties,” Suliak says. “Having somebody to pump you up backstage … after doing a solo show and being by myself in the dressing room,” the very definition of solitude,   

After a couple of years of bizarre, often lonely, and far from comical, pandemic separateness, they wondered (as we all do) who they are and what still makes them laugh in the fall of 2022. “The heart of what we do remains intact!” she says. 

Caley Suliak, Alyson Dicey, Ellie Heath of Girl Brain, at Theatre Network. Photo by Brianne Jang, bb collective

The three actors/ writers/ best friends who share Girl Brain specialize in mining the “ordinary” absurdities and hypocrisies of the world. Which, unsurprisingly, have not gone away. You know, those familiar moments of life when, as Dicey says, “you wish you could just dissolve into the wall.” Or moments of maximum irritation when regular people overstay their welcome and turn into  “nightmare people.” And as for dating? An endless treasure trove of embarrassment, aggro … and sketch possibilities. 

All of the above find their way into the Girl Brain show we’ll see at the Roxy, a mix of the new and “the re-vamped and improved,” as Dicey says. In honour of the spooky season, they’d originally thought of “true crime” as a through-line. Now it’s a a riff on Halloween that she calls “everyday horror.” 

Naturally, Dicey’s thoughts turned instantly to costumes. ‘What is my biggest pet peeve? I’ll dress as that…. People who don’t follow through with the promises they make to you.” Costume concepts don’t come more impossible than that. Not going to happen. Incidentally, feel empowered to attend Girl Brain wearing a costume yourself; there’s a costume contest, with prizes, every show.

“All our shows are scary, kind of spooky in a way,” Dicey laughs, “because we’re always talking about the things that annoy us, things in life that are scary…. Yup, everyday horror.” 

“The Overstayers,” for example, was inspired by her brother’s experience on a joint cabin holiday retreat with another couple and their kids who more or less moved in, ate all the food, drank the booze even though they had their own cabin. And how’s this for everyday horror? “The ex- of the guy you just started dating shows up at a party, and you think, at the moment, ‘this is the worse moment of my life’…. Later, it’s ‘what was I thinking? If only I could have seen how silly it really was’.”  

Suliak plays “a lot of men in the show,” she says. “Which is not horrifying to me, but might be them!” (laughter all round). “One sketch took me quite a bit of time to write because it was actually very personal, dredging up those feelings…. How do I make this funny? I don’t want to revisit this. But I should. Because I think it’s relatable.” 

And “relatable” is a veritable mantra with Girl Brain. As Heath says, “it’s fun to find parts of our every day lives that get under our skin…. In rehearsal, we get together and have creative conversations about the little things that make us laugh….” It’s how Girl Brain came into being in the first place. 

They play a wide assortment of characters in the sketches they write, sometimes for themselves to play and sometimes with each other in mind. Heath’s specialty, she thinks, is “high-strung female characters. I like really wacky, crazy characters. Kooks…. Actually I think we all do. That’s probably why we get along.”

Favourite characters in the show? For Dicey it might be the woman who’s unstoppably excited about her Bosch washer and drier, “Inspired by my mom but bigger and sillier!” For Suliak “there are so many lovable, ridiculous, and yes hatable characters in the show that I can’t pick just one.”  

As for Heath, it’s “The Weeping Vag,” a recurring sketch she narrates, à la Masterpiece Theatre, “as a storytelling nymph.” Her Girl Brain cohorts nod their assent. For the new show designer Tessa Stamp has fashioned them a handsome historical tome, a volume apparently direct from the medieval period. It looks “so ancient, so precious,” as Dicey says, “containing the stories and traumas of womanhood we need to pass on.…” 

Stamp wondered if she might decorate the grand volume “like an ornate vagina,” Heath reports. “Absolutely!” Then “is a tampon string hanging from it too much?” Nope, “great!” was the response.

“With a book mark that’s furry,” smiles Heath sweetly, and pauses. “Yup, we’re back!” 

[And they’re back again at the Roxy with another new show Dec. 16 to 18, too]. 

PREVIEW

Girl Brain

Starring: Alyson Dicey, Ellie Heath, Caley Suliak, with special guests Natasha Lyn Myles (Oct. 27) and Tiff Hall (Oct. 28 to 30)

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

Running: Thursday through Sunday 

Tickets: theatrenetwork.ca

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A cutting edge artist in her own right: Dora Maar: the wicked one, at Workshop West

Dora Maar: the wicked one, Workshop West. graphic by db photographics

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

In the solo play that launches the Workshop West Playwrights Theatre season Thursday you’ll meet a remarkable artist, a multi-media groundbreaker in the ‘30s and ‘40s. She was a cutting edge photographer with commercial cred and a unique vision, an accomplished painter, a leftist political activist, a poet.

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You might not know her name. 

In a Paris cafe in 1935, Dora Maar met the most famous artist in the world, Pablo Picasso, and fell in love. And both their lives changed.  

In Dora Maar: the wicked one, by the playwriting duo of Beth Graham and Daniela Vlaskalic (The Drowning Girls, Comrades, Mules), the woman herself, played by Vlaskalic, talks to us. The production, the work of the playwrights’ GAL Productions and Calgary’s Hit & Myth, is directed by Blake Brooker, a playwright of note himself and the co-founder of the zestfully experimental performance theatre company One Yellow Rabbit. The three made time to chat on Zoom on a break from rehearsals in Calgary. 

The play, which premiered at the delayed spring edition of the High Performance Rodeo in Calgary, isn’t the first time Graham and Vlaskalic have put Dora Maar onstage. She was one of the five talking paintings in The Last Train (Shadow Theatre, 2003), a Nazi train filled with looted “degenerate art” including Picasso’s fractured portraits of his lover and muse, and bound for possible oblivion. 

“We weren’t done with her,” says Graham of their undimmed attraction to their subject. Dora Maar “is one of those artists.… We were intrigued by her sensibility, her photos and her art work” — her paintings in a striking variety of styles, photographs that marry the eye of the camera to Surrealism. “One of the few women working in that medium at all, she bridged the two worlds and she was commercially successful. Such an interesting woman.… We wanted to crawl into that mind, that world. And we’d just scratched the surface.” 

Daniela Vlaskalic in Dora Maar: the wicked one, GAL Productions with Hit & Myth. Photo supplied.

What interested the playwrights, too, was “how that vibrant, exciting new artist disappeared,” says Vlaskalic. “If people know her at all, it’s for The Weeping Woman and other multi-angled faces in Picasso paintings. But they don’t anything about the woman.” Only in the last few years, as she notes — a 2019 exhibition at the the Pompidou in Paris and the Tate Modern in London — has Dora Maar’s independent profile as an artist has started to be visible on the international stage.

Ah yes, a liaison with Picasso that has left him with Maar’s photo-documentation of his masterwork Guernica and her with the label ‘muse’. Graham, whose play Weasel premiered at Studio Theatre two weeks ago, says “one of the things that interested us was her relationship with fame…. Picasso was already famous when she met him and entered into that relationship. She already had this artistic identity; how does it bump up against someone that famous? How does she navigate that? Such an interesting thing to explore.” 

“Who’s the most famous and powerful artist in the world now?” Brooker wonders. The answer isn’t obvious. “Who’s the Picasso … Banksy? Jeff Koons?” Drake maybe? “But Picasso and Maar were in the same medium, and that’s different,” as Graham points out. 

“They deal with this (question of fame) in such a fascinating way,” says Brooker of the playwrights. “Original, idiosyncratic, very pleasing.” The setting, too, 1935 to 1945 in Paris, is resonant. “A time of great upheaval in the Western world… And here we are, finding ourselves back at a moment, or series of moments, of great upheaval. The terms and conditions of this play cleave into notions of artistic creation, censorship, warfare, occupation, the rising right….” 

Ring any bells? The leitmotif of the play, as Brooker puts it, is the Spanish Civil War, and the fit with the moment, including the brutality in Ukraine, is unmistakeable. “Part of the beauty of Dora Maar,” says Graham, “was the way her art work was responding to the politics, the rising fascism, of the time.” 

“These guys,” he says affectionately of Graham and Vlaskalic, “have caught this. And I think it’s lightning in a bottle… not least of which is finding a personality as magnetic, as storytelling-worthy, as Dora Maar.” 

Daniela Vlaskalic in Dora Maar: the wicked one, GAL Productions with Hit & Myth. Photo supplied.

“So many dramatic angles,” he says of the multiple facets of Dora Maar’s story. “The City of Light in black-out, the pressure-cooker of Occupation….And everything about her story is so sexy. An incredible artist, friends with all the cool Surrealists (like) Man Ray and Marcel Duchamps. Love, heartbreak, obsession.… A snapshot of 10 years in 78 minutes! It deserves a mini-series.” Vlaskalic laughs and nods. “A lot does happen within the world and within the art.”  

Vlaskalic, whose play Sleight of Mind, premiered this month at Western Canada Theatre in Kamloops, explains that Dora Maar: The Wicked One is the joint cross-country work of the pandemic. “A Zoom-created play I guess,” originally scheduled for the Rodeo’s original January slot then delayed for COVIDian reasons till May. She and Graham, the one Toronto-based and the other in Edmonton, enlisted One Yellow Rabbit’s Brooker, who has a long and distinguished history with new plays. He’d directed a version of The Drowning Girls for Vertigo Theatre. He’d directed Vlaskalic in Karen Hines’ Drama: Pilot Episode. 

“He’s really pushed us to find the voice of the piece,” says Graham, “the voice of the character and what we want for our voice within the piece.” 

For his part, Brooker says “I consider these two among the finest dramatists on the scene in Canada … an almost undiscovered treasure of beautiful writing and ideas. And I also consider them to be very intuitive and accurate with the zeitgeist.”

“This play comes to grips with really serious notions around a creative life, and also the ongoing, amazing danse macabre, the crazy energy between men and women that drives the world…. There is nothing more interesting than observing another human being concentrating and going through problems. We love to watch the concentrated presence on stage.” 

PREVIEW

Dora Maar: the wicked one

Theatre: GAL Productions with Hit & Myth, presented by Workshop West Playwrights Theatre

Written by: Beth Graham and Daniela Vlaskalic 

Directed by: Blake Brooker

Starring: Daniela Vlaskalic

Where: The Gateway Theatre, 8529 Gateway Blvd.

Running: Thursday through Nov. 6 

Tickets: workshopwest.org

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Who am I really? Squeamish, a scary solo thriller from Northern Light. A review

Davina Stewart in Squeamish, Northern Light Theatre. Photo by Ian Jackson, Epic Photography

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

There’s blood, a lot of blood, dripping and pooling and trailing through the macabre one-woman thriller you’ll find in the near-dark of the Studio Theatre in the ATB Financial Arts Barn. You can practically taste it.

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Which is weird, since Squeamish is a story. And the storyteller, Davina Stewart in a bona fide 90-minute tour de force, is just sitting in a chair in the shadows, talking. There’s atmosphere aplenty in Trevor Schmidt’s production. The room has an eerie sort of elegance, beautifully designed by Schmidt. Chris Dela Cruz’s lighting, which brings colour to the dark, is a virtuoso display of unease in itself, with its single light source.

Side note: never let it be said that Northern Light Theatre doesn’t embrace the spirit of the season. In 2020 about this time of year, in honour of scaring the people, they premiered Trevor Schmidt’s solo gothic thriller We Had A Girl Before You.   

In this ever-creepier monologue by the New York playwright Aaron Mark (who seems to specialize in such matters since Squeamish is the third of a trilogy), Sharon, an Upper West Side therapist, has arrived at the home of her own therapist in the middle of the night.  

Sharon hasn’t seen Dr Schneider for five months, but this is an emergency, and “I’m a totally different person.” Just back from Texas and the funeral of her nephew Eddie, who’s committed suicide, she’s telling her fellow shrink what’s been happening to her, culminating in the fateful trip. For one thing she’s discovered the disturbing coincidence that Eddie died bleeding out in a bathtub, covered in cuts — just the same way Sharon’s own suicidal mother was found years before. Is it in the blood?  

As Stewart’s virtuoso performance conveys, Sharon may look confidently Upper West Side (black dress and shoes, chic silver coif, expensive purse), but she seems anxious, rattled, breathless. She talks, spontaneously, in a volley of fragments, add-ons, and cavils as  details occur to her. Her hands, pale and lit in the dark, are in constant motion, fluttering, gesturing, signalling. Listening to anxious smart people is anxiety-producing, don’t you find? 

Davina Stewart in Squeamish, Northern Light Theatre. Photo by Ian Jackson, Epic Photography.

Davina Stewart in Squeamish, Northern Light Theatre. Photo by Ian Jackson, Epic Photography.

Anyhow, we learn that Sharon — recovered alcoholic, extreme hemophobe (a mosquito bite throws her into a frenzy of revulsion), and coffee junkie — comes from a family with a history of mental illness, suicide, and addiction. Inspired by the oddly serene Eddie who’d visited her in New York months before, Sharon’s taken herself off the psychotropic drugs she’s been on since she was 13. “I needed to find out who I really am. Now. Without dependence on some chemical substance….”

That’s the (blood) red-alert state in which Sharon arrives in Lubbock, from whence she’d fled to New York and a professional career decades before. A certain morbid sense of humour attaches to her views of Texas. “Maybe it’s not sad to die in Texas,” she reflects. The Lubbock chamber of commerce will not be using this slogan any time soon. 

Stewart conjures the characters, including her blood relatives, that Sharon meets, with minimal but telling adjustments of voice and hands. Cara, Eddie’s girlfriend, is warm and empathetic, and shows up later by the pool in the hotel where Sharon is staying. “We’re kindred spirits,” says Cara, a consoling sort of person who counsels balance and eats only healthy food.   

And secrets about Eddie begin to unspool. I can’t tell you more particulars about the story of Squeamish. Except that it escalates — from unsettling to disturbing to horrifying. If you feel queasy and have to avert your eyes when they extract a routine blood sample at the lab (guilty), you’ll think of the title often. I did.  There was one walk-out on opening night, and I suspect that’ll happen at every performance.   

Squeamish is not about the fear of the creeping stalker with the knife. Fear lives closer to home than that (and it suggests, vividly, that there are worse addictions than caffeine). In his notes the playwright argues that phobias and compulsions are two sides of the same coin; I’d have to think more about that. But this play speaks to that view (or rather, it whispers that in your ear). “I wanted to find out who I really am,’ says Sharon to her shrink. “Now I have my answer…. I am a horror.” 

It’s in the blood. 

REVIEW

Squeamish

Theatre: Northern Light Theatre

Written by: Aaron Mark

Directed and designed by: Trevor Schmidt

Starring: Davina Stewart

Where: Studio Theatre, ATB Financial Arts Barns, 102330 84 Ave.

Running: through Nov. 5

Tickets: northernlighttheatre.com

   

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