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However, the language is important to the play, which unfolds with as dynamic a display of theatre as I have seen in a long time. The detonations of bombs, the scream of aircraft flying from north to south over the arena, the constant flashes of explosions are effectively jarring, and the use of music is dramatically dynamic. It's a very masculine production and by the time it was over, I wasn't sure if the ten actors hadn't been loaned to the production from the Black Watch itself. While the production demanded great efforts from the actors, they responded with strength and precision, whether it was in drill or dance, or some of the excellent choreography that had them flying from one end of the stage to the other. Without pictures in the program it was difficult to discern who was playing which character, but the ensemble was uniformly good, particularly the roles of the officer and the disillusioned private who refused to return to the Regiment when his time in Iraq was ended. The story has many threads, but its main thrust is a mournful dirge for the disappearance of the famed Black Watch into a generic highland regiment after more than two centuries of service to Britain. As a former member of the Royal Canadian Air Force, I can sympathize with the death of a loyal service. The military men that sat next to me in the arena understood this as well. Everything about Black Watch gives a spiky surge to the Toronto Festival of the Arts, particularly the welcome to the National Theatre of another country when, for many years, we have been seeking longingly for a National Theatre of our own. Black Watch plays at Varsity Arena from June 6 to 15. Please see Luminato.com for schedule of performance times. For ticket events, purchases can be made through ticketmaster at 416 872-1111 or 1-866 577 4277 or online at luminato.com; In person at T.O. TIX at Yonge-Dundas Square.
Dirty Dancing is like being back in the '60's again. Bergstein who wasn't able to use all the pop songs from that era in the film, has been able to include them this time. While gift sellers in the lobby boutique tout everything from compacts to baby bibs, I recommend the CD of the London production which gives you all of the original motion picture songs as well as all the others others used in the stage version. The Diamonds, Eric Carmen, The Chantelles, ah!, the sweet sounds of yesterday. While the stars of the show are Britta Lazenga as Penny, a zinging dancer and good actor, with legs as long as Texas, and Monica West as the wide eyed high school activist 'Baby' Houseman, who loses her innocence to Johnny Castle, played by muscular Jake Simons, it's set designer Steven Brimson Lewis who is a star of another order, responsible for making the stage version seem more like a movie than the actual movie. A curved wide screen upstage is all consuming with its rolling videos of camp life, lapping lakes and undulating trees, sometimes opening in the centre to show off the Houseman's car rolling into the Kellerman summer resort for their two weeks of holiday time, at other times Johnny Castle's car which never seems to go anywhere. The script of Dirty Dancing follows the film almost religiously. The Houseman family, Dr. Jake Houseman (Al Sapienza), his wife Marjorie (Victoria Adilman) and the two girls, the nubile, junior sex goddess Lisa (Natalie Krill), and Baby (Monica West) who hasn't earned her full name as yet (it's Francis), have finally bowed to Max Kellerman's request to spend vacation time at his resort. Kellerman's is a replica of the upscale Jewish resorts in the Catskills during the 1950's and 1960's where the the Borscht Belt comedians got their start. At Kellerman's it's wannabe comedian is Stan (played by Tyler Murree), the whoop it up resort entertainment director whose enthusiasm generates everything from urging the guests to dance The Mashed Potato to having lectures by a visiting Rabbi on The Psychology of Insult Comedians, to organizing camp fires and singing This Land is Your Land. In between those activities - and late at night - more personal entertainment takes place. Max Kellerman, played Victor A. Young, is a businessman above all else and his separation of the classes - that is the wait staff and entertainers from the guests - is rock solid. He would like his cocky nephew, played by Dylan Trowbridge, to make some headway with the super smart Baby, a doctor's daughter. That doesn't stop the feisty Baby from wanting to mingle with the other half at their nightly get togethers where she first catches sight of Johnny Castle, a dancer from the other side of the tracks. His surliness (and Jake Simons does surly very well) and his lower status, immediately makes him forbidden, that is, desirable. Before you know it Baby is learning how to do the mambo in private lessons and in time graduates to becoming Johnny's partner when Penny Johnson becomes pregnant and with Baby's help is able to pay for an abortion. Dirty Dancing is a coming of age story that is at least refreshingly feminine and at times moving. Baby, as everyone knows, flowers into womanhood - and responsibility - when she falls in love with Johnny and begins a sexual relationship with him. Unlike the film version, this baby, a charming Monica West, seems older than the character was in the film version, but allowances have to be made. In Johnny's room, a raised platform which gives the lovemaking scene a kind of bedroom intrigue Hollywood style, is not so much loss of innocence as coming to grips with your hormones. But with more applause from our youthful cheering section in the balcony, one can't argue with its impact. The best thing about Dirty Dancing is its exuberance and spirited choreography by Kate Champion. There are of course the intrigues between the older sexy woman and the ambitious waiter, the girls who are hungry for marriage to a good Jewish boy and will do anything for a commitment, the fathers of the girls who would rather keep them home bound and innocent until the right match comes along. There's nothing much that's new in the story. Baby, that is Francis, gets her guy and finally learns how to do a lift at the right spot in the Mambo, Dad is reconciled to her new maturity and even apologizes to Johnny, and the fairy tale ending comes to a rousing finale with what else,The Time of Your Life. For a lot of young women in the balcony, it really was. Dirty Dancing is directed by James Powell, and runs until Aug. 31, 2008 at The Royal Alexandra Theatre, 260 King St. West Toronto. Call TicketKing 416.872.1212 or 1.800.461.3333 to book.
On a minimalist dimly lit three sided box set, the only visuals are Ben Chaisson's arresting videos projected on the sides and back walls, the most memorable: oceans with undulating waves as blue as the sky that may or may not be programmed on a computer, the world that was; the most frightening: the enormous shadows that emulate human forms. We never see daylight or any facsimile of it in this home where five people cohabit, Hamm, the father (Richard Clarkin) Gwen (Fiona Highet) the mother, their young daughter Fifi (Jenny Young) who is suffering from some unknown ailment herself, teenaged son Joe (Joe Cobden) and Hamm's own dying father played by Geza Kovacs). Light seems to stream in from somewhere outside the barren family room but when family members enter and exit from the two doorways on either side of the stage, they walk like in and out of the light like zombies. No one speaks much in this family; questions and answers are short and to the point. The only real emotion comes from Gwen, whose backbreaking care for her common law husband's dying father, earns no kudos or thanks. Her husband Hamm refuses to talk to his father, their children refuse to face death. Gwen is his caregiver and his sole contact with the members of the family. Brooks' absurdist take on a bereft family who no longer communicate with each other fits right into the literary corners of Beckett, Ionesco and Genet, except that theirs is a parallel universe; a family whose disintegrating relationships mirror an ill nourished universe outside their door. Struggling to survive in what seems a hopeless situation, Hamm is a pontificating intellectual who hasn't a clue how pompous he is, a wheel chair ridden, bitter man whose wife has come back to care for him after leaving the family for another man. She's maternal and loving to her children, but physically exhausted. No wonder. Her husband is cold to her, and while he seems to care deeply for his his children, especially his artistic daughter who tries to earn his affection by behaving childishly, his dialogue is textbook driven. "Find a solution instead of escalating the situation, " he lectures his son when the two kids begin to argue. Oh dad, poor dad. Complementing the minimal set and minimal conversation there's minimal humor. In a flashback scene when Hamm recalls a fishing scene with his father, the conversation goes something like this: "Fish are smaller this year." Answer: "Maybe we should dump viagra in the lake." The hour and 40 minute play (without intermission) moves slowly and deliberately; little is said but much is conveyed. All five actors do commendable work though Fiona Highet's Gwen is the more blessed with a touch of humanity that rises above Richard Clarkin's cool articulation as Hamm. Compelling - not always, but Hamm's warning that the complex eco situation"will destroy us unless we learn how to survive," cuts to the quick of The Eco Show, and that's where we sit up and take notice. The Eco Show runs to June 1 at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre. 12 Alexander St. Box Office: 416-975-8555 or www.totix.ca / Information : www.necessaryangel.com /
The Canadian Stage Company finishes its season with Moore's adaptation of Misery which runs until May 31 on the Bluma Appel stage. One can't argue with the abject horror emphasized in the production, directed by David Storch, though it wears thin after a while. The almost two and a half hour production stars the talented Nicola Cavendish as Annie Wilkes, an ex-nurse who lives in an isolated house in the Colorado mountains, a locale where the writer Paul Sheldon, played by Tom McCamus, has come to finish his new novel. Annie saves Sheldon's life after his car crashes in a blinding snow storm. Retreating with the severely injured Sheldon to her house, the play opens like a Agatha Christie novel, then takes a sharp turn toward the school of gothic horror; The two person play takes place in one room where Annie, enamored of the heroine named Misery in Paul Sheldon's romance novels, has prepared her nursing station to care for Sheldon who is confined to a make-shift hospital bed. The phone lines are down, the nearest neighbors are miles away, and Sheldon, at the mercy of Annie where he's more a prisoner than a patient, is continually drugged to kill his pain. There's no blood and gore spared either though that happens later on when Annie punishes Paul for trying to escape. The set itself seems suspended in space, the outer walls or what serves as walls are thin vertical strips of a shiny substance designed by Bretta Gerecke. It enables Annie to slip in and out of Paul Sheldon's prison effortlessly while Paul himself can only navigate slowly in a wheelchair, enough, however, to locate Annie's stash of painkillers which he cleverly hides in his own secret place. On the minus side, there are several onstage set permutations, too minimally disguised in the dark and only remind us that there really isn't anything else beyond that wall of vertical slats except stage hands. Misery only becomes a cat and mouse game toward the end. At the beginning of the play we're alerted quickly to Annie's severe mood changes, her hysterical screaming fits and the dark recesses of her mind where paranoia and even murder of her former patients lurk as evidence of her severe personality disorder. Cavendish starts out so strongly as a shrill and nerve wracked Annie that it leaves little doubt in our mind as to her motives and fails to do what the film did so well: breed suspense. Annie, Sheldon's "number one fan" of his wildly popular 18th century heroine, Misery, in his bodice ripping romance novels of the same name, becomes his editor, co-writer and jailor. Forced to continue with yet another Misery novel which Annie demands after discovering that Paul had planned to kill Misery and turn to other avenues for his stories, Paul learns as every prisoner of war does, that to live he must comply with the wishes of his captor. And so it continues, amid James Fisher's spooky background music, until Paul, maimed by Annie in a scene worthy of the cartoon horror of Evil Dead:The Musical, devises his own method of retaliation. The nervous laughter in the audience during several spots in the latter part of the production, testify to the dramatic allure of the horror genre, not seen very often in live stage productions except when it's done satirically. As Paul Sheldon, Tom McCamus has a difficult road to travel from being a grateful and trusting survivor to play acting a grateful and trusting survivor, and more chillingly, an ersatz friend. Annie's fantasy life, her dependency upon the luster of Sheldon's heroine, Misery, to make her own life complete and worthwhile, if nothing else reminds us that there are still monsters around in human guise, number one fans who seek out their larger than life heroes and heroines in order fulfill some need in themselves, and will do almost anything within their power to have it. Misery continues until May 31 at the Bluma Appel Theatre, 27 Front Street East. For tickets and information, contact416-368-3110 or canstage.com/
My Name is Rachel Corrie is based upon the writings of Corrie, the 23 year-old American who went to help Palestinians whose homes were being destroyed in the Gaza strip, and was killed by a Israeli Defense Forces bulldozer as she tried to block the destruction of another home. Corrie had kept a diary from the age of 12 recounting all her experiences of her young life and continued on as a young woman, e-mailing her parents and friends during her time in Rafah, documenting her experiences befriending and sometimes living with the Palestinian families in Rafah, babysitting their children and even helping when homes were destroyed. My Name is Rachel Corrie is a powerful one-woman show based upon her writings, edited by Alan Rickman and Katharine Viner. The show made its debut at the Royal Court Theatre in London (directed by Rickman) and subsequently played in Edinburgh, New York, across North America, Peru, Sweden, Greece and recently Israel and Palestine. Starring a remarkable Canadian performer, Bethany Jillard, it plays at the Tarragon Extra Space in Toronto until June 29. The play begins with Corrie as a young girl swaddled in a messy bed in her own room at home, then takes us through several of her growing up stages, the friends she had, the boyfriend she lost, all with a keen perception of her own personality. "Colin always wanted to walk faster and I wanted to trudge and identify ferns." She is a much loved daughter in a happy family, and even in Palestine you feel the close ties she had with people back home, especially her mother and father, through her constant and often colorful correspondence. Directed by Kate Lushington and simply designed by Astrid Jansen, a stage wide blackboard on which Corrie will write bits and pieces of information as thoughts cross her mind, and where Cameron Davis' videos will merely augment the life of Rachel Corrie, there is one video of the child Rachel Corrie swinging in the backyard, carefree, happy, the whole of her life ahead of her. It's played twice and at the end of the 90-minute play when Rachel has already died, it's a heartbreaking sight. Born in Olympia, Washington, the Corries, like most American families, had nothing by sympathy for Israel. After Rachel's death, anxious to experience what their daughter had, the family traveled to Gaza and ate, played and traveled with the family whose home Rachel had tried to protect. But My Name is Rachel Corrie is less a political drama than a cry for the world to understand that it will always be the innocent people who pay the highest cost in a contentious war. What directed Rachel Corrie to Gaza isn't clearly specified in the script. Even as a young girl in one of the wonderful videos again, Rachel was deeply interested in 'causes'. During a school trip to Russia she experienced some of the deep seated problems in that country, but there is no real continuity from her girlhood, to her college days to her working days in an Olympia mental health care centre, to Gaza. Still, Bethany Jillard paints a telling portrait of a young and spontaneous girl, vulnerable, artistic, a born writer, who had no inkling of what she would find in Gaza, yet when she did, consumed the whole experience like "a fire in my belly." She grows from naivety to wisdom, perception and strength. In the end when she willingly goes in front of the bulldozer, knowing the dangers and the probable outcome, it's as courageous an act as one would ever see. Jillard gives us the whole picture in a mere 90-minutes and in the end we know Rachel Corrie. My Name is Rachel Corrie plays until June 29, at the Tarragon Theatre Extra Space, 30 Bridgman Avenue. 416.531.1827 or www.totix.ca
'Night Mother has never been a favorite play of mine, though I've admired Norman's work as a well constructed piece of theatre, almost faultless in its delineation of its two characters, a mother and a daughter, and their final time together when the latter confesses to her distraught mother that she will be committing suicide within 90 minutes. Written in real time, it's a harrowing play to watch, but moreover difficult to accept from a humane point of view. The younger woman in question, Jessie Cates, 40'ish, is attractive, intelligent, dearly loved by her mother with whom she lives. She has been prone to epileptic seizures - her mother calls them 'fits', and can't hold a decent job because of them. Her husband has left her and her son is a a thief and probably a drug addict whom Jessie has no desire to see, though she still loves her ex-husband. It's no great surprise to learn that Jessie isn't happy, but neither is she outwardly depressed; she simply hasn't much to look forward to any longer and sees no reason to keep on living. The hour and a half production, produced by the Soulpepper Theatre Company, plays until June 21st. Director Alisa Palmer has cast mother and daughter Megan Follows and Dawn Greenhalgh in the roles of Jessie and her mother, Thelma. Both women are consummate performers, but to see Greenhalgh as Thelma break down toward the end of the play when she realizes that she has run out of ways to sway Jessie and stop her thinking of ending her life, is performance informed by something deeper. While Norman has written Jessie as a super organized woman who knows where every plate and piece of cutlery is, who knows when the milkman comes and what order, who has every important phone number listed, who has ordered double supplies of medication for her mother so she won't have to worry after she's gone, is to paint a portrait of someone so clear headed that you shudder in anticipation of what's to come and how she has got to this point in her life. Indeed, Norman propels the play to its ultimate shattering climax by having Jessie go through all the motions of someone preparing to leave town on an extended vacation instead of locking herself in the bedroom and putting a gun to her head. In between the lists and phone numbers and instructions on how to get along without her, Jessie and Thelma exchange memories. An underlying hint of Thelma's annoyance that her daughter and late husband have shared something special leaving her out of the picture, only becomes melancholic. Thelma has never had the upper hand in their small family unit and still doesn't. You feel much more sympathy for her than you do for Jessie. The play has been called "uncluttered naturalism," and amid Ken MacDonald's mellow set design with its catalogue furniture, cheery slipcovers and immaculate kitchen, you can see the find hand of Jessie's orderliness. While Thelma enjoys her life, her knitting, her friends and her gossip, Megan Follows plays Jessie resolutely, coolly, removed from ordinary mortals. Still, the shot at the end of the play hits you like a hurtled knife, not because of Jessie, but because of Greenhalgh's anguished cry, and ultimately, her final acceptance and the grieving process that will surely come. Marsha Norman wrote the play after a close friend had committed suicide. As many others in similar circumstances have discovered, Norman couldn't make sense of the tragedy. 'Night Mother doesn't try to answer why, only that Jessie, with all her rationale, will still leave a void in someone else's life with her death. 'Night Mother plays at the Young Centre for the Performing Arts until June 28. The Historic Distillery, 55 Mill St. Box office: 416-866-8666.
Directed by Jim Warren, the three sisters Rosensweig don't quite resemble Chekhov's famous trio intent on returning to the big city after a dowdy country life. In fact two of them have come from far and wide to a trendy London townhouse where they will be celebrating the 54th birthday of their eldest sister, Sarah, who lives there. Their dissimilarity is apparent right from the start. All may have spring from the same wonky mother who was a diehard individualist and, according to the sisters' recollections, may have been something of an embarrassment, but their physical resemblance to each other is is nil. Their one common ground is that they all defend the lifestyles they have chosen, though appearances can be deceiving. Sarah, the eldest, is bright, almost brilliant, attractive and a powerhouse exec. Happily divorced, she's the first woman to lead an international Hong Kong bank and has no intention of giving up her freedom and very comfortable income despite her sisters' urging to find someone compatible. When the play opens in her elegant oyster colored living room designed by Philip Silver, the birthday celebrations are just beginning. Sarah's youngest sister, Pfeni Rosensweig, is a travel journalist about to embark on another trip to an exotic locale. Low key and pleasantly plain (Sarah Dodd under plays her to perfection and for her reward is the most accessible of the three), she has brought her longtime boy friend Geoffrey Duncan, with her for the birthday party. If I didn't mention that the sisters also have something else in common by choosing the wrong mate, now is the time to do it. Pfeni's beau is a famous London stage director who is terribly fond of her, but terribly gay. Outrageously played by Steve Cumyn who almost makes you believe that all London stage directors are flamboyant and articulate at the same time, Geoffrey tries to become the lover, perhaps the husband, that Pfeni craves, but his need for men wins out. Middle sister, Gorgeous Teitelbaum - she the holder of the most fantastic name for a seemingly bourgeois Massachusetts housewife - is more glossy than gorgeous, but Linda Kash even overrides that with a shrillness that sounds like chalk grating on a blackboard. In her less grating moments, Gorgeous admits that her perfect, golden marriage to a once wealthy lawyer, has become onerous with her husband bankrupt and suffering from a personality disorder that finds him spending nights prowling the streets pretending he's a famous gumshoe. But Gorgeous doesn't let her sudden monetary depletion interfere with her purchase of pricey Manolo Blahnik shoes. Not surprisingly, Sarah is the most interesting of the three and the one who merits the best dialogue which Wasserstein invests generously. She's verbal, where Pfeni is contemplative, glamorous where Gorgeous is just shiny, and cool despite a need to be loved. Rosemary Dunsmore is all of that but still manages to make Sarah very human. You want to cheer on when she meets Mervyn Kant, a New York furrier who is not her match intellectually, but is clever enough and intuitive enough to know which buttons to push. As Mervyn, Richard Greenblatt's unprepossessing Mervyn is a joy to watch though he begins to sound more and more like Wallace Shawn with each passing play. Michael Hanrahan does a nice turn as Sarah's waspish male friend who can't quite disguise his biases. The Rosensweig Sisters takes place just as the Soviet Union has fallen and is based loosely on Wasserstein's own family, the character of Pheni an obvious twin to Wasserstein herself. Politics are treated lightly in the play - Sarah's daughter (Sara Farb) and her boyfriend Tom (Andrew Craig) are set to run off to Vilnius to celebrate its independence - as is the Jewish theme which pits Sarah's irreligiousness against the blatant piety of Gorgeous. But it colors the script more than informs it. The Rosensweig Sister is about family ties, choosing your own destiny and learning to live with it. Come to think of it, it's not such a long way from Chekhov after all. The Sisters Rosensweig plays until June 21 at the Jane Mallett Theatre, St. Lawrence Centre for the Arts, 27 Front Street East. 416.366.7723. For more information visit. www.hgjewishtheatre.com
Ben Elton's musical which has been playing in London for over 6 years, has a legitimate claim in incorporating all the qualities of a rock concert. It uses the music of Queen, one of the great rock bands of the 20th century whose popularity has never waned because of its hit songs and its flamboyant star, iconic lead singer and Queen pianist, Freddy Mercury, who passed away in 1991. Not only does We Will Rock You have its own larger than life hero called Galileo - many of the characters names have been lifted from Queen's songs, If you listen closely, which isn't difficult due to the pumped up volume, you'll hear some actual recorded segments from the real Queen and master Mercury. While We Will Rock You has all the trappings of a mega rock concert, it's more than that with its fantastical story, a giant sci fi comic book come to life with a plot that's straight out of Marvel. There is a young hero called Galileo with a voice that raises the rafters (Yvan Pednault), who is so naive he hasn't a clue why he hears scraps of rock songs in his head that seem to come from nowhere. But in this futuristic country where rock music is forbidden and all music has been homogenized to complement the vapid atmosphere created by a giant corporation called GlobalSoft, there has to be someone who hears the 'real music', a dreamer who will awaken the rebel Bohemians and take back the music. The opening number Radio Ga Ga danced and sung by a robotic chorus line which sets the pace and prepares us for the entrance of GlobalSoft's formidable leader, Killer Queen, played by Alana Bridgewater, who reminded me of Matron Mama Morton in the film Chicago. In charge of all thought appropriation, Killer Queen can pulverize anyone's brain who crosses her, (i.e. Another Ones Bites the Dust),.and with the help of her chief henchman, the Armani-suited silken voiced Kashoggi (Evan Biuling), she does. Dressed in Tim Goodchild's eye-popping costumes, this queen is really much larger than life especially with giant videos of her face occupying the entire upper part of the stage. A lot of credit for the sleekly designed stage with its outstanding background graphics goes to Mark Fisher and Willie Williams. One knock-out scene features a line of computer generated heads that sing in tandem with the performers. Nothing surpasses that in the show and this is a show with a lot of impressive high end graphics. When Galileo finally meets his Scaramouche (Erica Peck),a cheeky punk feminist who has been jailed because of her insubordination, the two escape and find the outlaw Bohemians who recognize Galileo as the dreamer who will bring the music back. The Bohemians are an underground lot, so enamored of the famous rock bands that they have appropriated their names after reading them on left over old posters and yellowed magazines. Their two leaders, Oz and Burton (Suzie McNeil and Sterling Jarvis), along with the the rest of their colorful crew have more flash and dash than Galileo or Scaramouche but dressed like early Madonna and Kiss and sounding like Soho in the '60's puts you in a distinctive class compared to everyone else in this Ga Ga planet. The real spokesman for the Bohemians, however, is an old hippy named Pop who bears a striking resemblance to Don Francks but is really veteran actor Jack Langedijk. Lengedijk more often than not steals the show with Pop's hidden archives, his 1960's treasure trove of videos and tapes, and his malapropisms. The show's ending is victorious with the Bohemians recapturing their music and instruments which had been buried at Wembley Stadium, the venue of Queen's greatest concerts. No surprise there. But then the real star of We Will Rock You isn't the plot, but the music. It's delivered with power and close harmony by a fine ensemble chorus who know very well that the audience has come to hear the Bohemian Rhapsody (it's done as an encore), We Are the Champions, and We Will Rock You, all sung like an anthem to its creators. The two young stars of the show Yvan Pednault and Erica Peck are simply delightful, if that term can be used in this much hyped rock musical aimed at the baby boomers. Pednault's Galileo is vulnerable and sweet natured but it doesn't stop him from delivering the knock out We are the Champions like a true champion, while Erica Peck, at the ripe age of 20, has all the makings of a major Canadian talent with Saramouche's rendering of Somebody to Love. There
are 32 Queen songs in the 2 1/2 hour show, with music supervised
by Queen lead guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor. Both
were along on the splashy opening night to take their bows alongside
creator director Ben Elton. It was a night to remember for all Queen
fans, and for everyone else who likes unbeatable entertainment,
like Mercury said, it was Made in Heaven. We Will Rock You closes at the Canon Theatre on May 11, and will re-open beginning July 16, 2008 at The Panasonic Theatre – 651 Yonge Street.
For tickets: TicketKing at: 416-872-1212 or 1-800-461-3333
What one can say with much certainty however, is that The Way of the World, which is given a splendid production by Peter Hinton and his cast at the National Arts Centre, well supported by Carolyn M. Smiths set that evokes a land of fantasy and creative playfulness, is at first also rather difficult to follow. There are so many characters mentioned in the opening discussions that it seems almost impossible to connect them all. Right from the start the thrust of the intrigue appears to be blurred, Congreve's fault, not Hinton's. Nevertheless, between the excellent notes, the explanations and plot descriptions in the programme, and a staging that emphasizes the inherent artificiality of this world where everyone is masking his or her real feelings, the audience quickly grasps the thread of a story played out by these strange characters who are so brutally thrown into our midst. The transformations are an integral part of this world. The first scene is moved from the17th-18th Century Chocolate house to the 1950s Hugh Hefner Playboy mansion where Mr. Fainall (C.David Johnson) is explaining the monetary issues revolving around Mrs Millamants unsavoury choice of lovers. The hypocrisy of hidden lives emerges when we learn that Fainall is also indulging in his own private adultery on the sly. The plot quickly thickens because it soon becomes clear that although Mr Mirabel (played by an extremely seductive Mike Shara), loves Mrs Millamant (Caroline Cave) passionately and has been wooing her for a long time, she will have nothing to do with him. So it would appear, and appearances are everything in this Hintonesque world. She tosses away his affections, laughs like a coquette, toys with him and reduces all his good intentions to dust at her feet. Cruelty? Vengeance? Disdain for human feeling or just the conventions of the Restoration play? All of the above and more. Caroline Cave performs Millamant's shifting moods with great brio, suggesting as well some of her own inner conflict - and almost stealing the show - until her Aunt, Lady Wishfort (incarnated by a majestic Tanja Jacobs) sweeps into the picture and literally carries away the evening. Lady Wishfort adds both comic relief and insurmountable obstacles to the life of the tragic-comic couple who can't seem to decide if they love or hate each other. In fact, Lady Wishfort will disinherit the young woman if she marries Mirabel because he was supposed to have had feelings for her. The complex web of relations tightens. Lady Wishfort even tries to concoct a scheme that has her witless nephew Sir Witwould (John Jarvis), replace Mirabel for Millamant's affections. But this drunken nephew is so useless that he becomes more comic relief than a serious plot device. In the same way, the other Witwould and his friend Petulant, friends of Millamant (Damien Atkins and William Webster) with their high camp farce, are in fact the emblematic Hinton creatures as they heighten the theatricality of it all. Faced with this parade of outrageous characters, the emotional dilemma of Millamant and Mirabel seems much less important when Lady Wishfort comes out in her shocking pink wig, and her gaudy high fashion gowns transformed into ghastly but colourful kitsch, parading around like an aging Madonna. Sitting in front of her mirror in her fluffy boudoir, Lady Wishfort becomes the epitome of the ultimate state of performance and Tanja Jacobs sustains the comedy throughout it all. Constantly shifting between gaudy kitsch and Yves Saint Laurent haute couture, Lady Wishfort is at once the image of a decadent aristocracy that has to pretend to be what it no longer can sustain, and, a more contemporary parody of a high fashion model in a slick magazine, strutting around in her flashy undies, screeching for her lady in waiting. It is all about style and appearance, and it is clear that this modern rereading captures the meaning of the play quite beautifully. Even class distinctions are conveniently blurred by these outlandish antics as 17th century Restoration theatre is subjected to contemporary chaos. It's all very marvelous fun, the result of a clear artistic vision and a perfect cast that rose to the occasion. Mainly, Hinton imposes a style that brings together raucus laughter with bits of thought provoking human psychology and questions of social conflict that blend together in a contemporary rereading of a comedy of manners, a fast paced performance that never ceases to flow. The production lasted three hours, but the time flew by as the play became a constant voyage of breathless and outlandish fun. The Way of the World is a co-production between the National Arts Centre English Theatre Company and Soulpepper Theatre. The production opens in Toronto at the Soulpepper Theatre,Young Centre for the Performing Arts, Toronto, Distillery District, 55 Mill St. on July 3 to August 3, with previews on June 30 and July 2. Box office: 416-866-8666.
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One of the most controversial productions in Luminato will likely be Black Watch, a bold creation from the National Theatre of Scotland. It's playing at Varsity Arena with some of the poorest acoustics that could plague a production in desperate need to be heard. I am told they have toned down some of the Scots dialect, but some may find the language a bit rough. These battle-hardened soldiers of the famed Scottish Highland Regiment use the “f”-word with wild abandon. If they paid me fifty-cents for every time it was spoken, I could have seen this show for free. At least the audience was warned before curtain.
Film buffs who loved the original film 1887 Dirty Dancing may not find the stage version as warm hearted as the original but they will find it a good deal livelier. Scenes shift in split seconds, dancers fill the stage at the drop of a hat and the hit parade pop songs of the 1960's are played with such gusto over loud speakers that they sometimes muffle the dialogue. You don't really need a lot of dialogue in Dirty Dancing. Eleanor Bergstein's story is so well known that as soon as 'Baby' Houseman and Johnny Castle begin their first dance together, parts of the audience, especially the young women many of whom were too young to even know what Dirty Dancing meant when the film was released, break into cheers. The power of cult films. 
The people in Daniel Brooks' new work The Eco Show, aren't your ordinary centre hall plan family. They're facing a world with limited water, electricity and food. They don't live in a Third World country and they haven't faced a catastrophic event. They're in North America - somewhere, sometime in the near future, and the world is facing an ecological disaster.
Fan adulation isn't a new phenomenon. Movie stars and their agents have cultivated fan bases since the days of the silent films. But what happens when the letter writing and stalking turn to something more deadly? In Misery,the king of horror stories, writer Stephen King, turned to fan adulation as a jumping off point for his 1987 novel about a popular writer of romance novels who is held captive by a lonely, emotionally ill woman. Its publication was followed a few years later by the award-winning film version directed by Rob Reiner, with a screenplay by William Goldman. Two years later, Misery the stage play adapted by Simon Moore (Traffick) premiered in London. It was the first time for any King novel to have been double adapted, from novel to film to play.
There's a point midway through Theatre Panik's production of My Name is Rachel Corrie where you feel a sudden deja vu. Here is a young woman, Rachel Corrie, a volunteer with the International Solidarity Movement in war torn Raha, Gaza, trying to make sense of the horrors around her as one by one, Palestinian homes are destroyed and people are killed. Yet, despite her increasing condemnation of the acts being committed against innocent, unarmed people, Corrie believed that the survival of communities, families, people, meant the survival of humanity, and that the world should not turn its back. It brings to mind the words uttered by Anne Frank, the Jewish teenager from Holland whose famous diary survived her internment and death in a Nazi concentration camp and whose final words "Despite everything that has happened I still believe that people are good at heart," have the same prepossessing sense of what is good about the human race must endure.
For many people, death and dying are the ultimate trauma, said Dr.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross who pioneered the model of the five stages for grieving (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance). In a unique reversal of the dying patient's reaction to trauma, playwright Marsha Norman in her 1993 Pulitzer Prize winning drama, 'Night Mother, has looked at the trauma of impending death not from person dying but to the person it will affect the most. In 'Night Mother, it's the mother herself who is victimized by her daughter's clear headed intent to commit suicide. 
Wendy Wasserstein's 1993 hit play The Sisters Rosensweig has taken a long time to play Toronto. In choosing it for their second production of the season, the new Harold Green Jewish Theatre Company has made a sound choice for the show's Toronto premiere. On the heels of their inaugural show, the delightful, touching one-woman comedy, Rose, The Sister Rosensweig is a likely successor, if not for its humor than for several good performances that the production offers. 
Rock
concerts with their high tech glitz, booming sound and larger than
life personalities are a phenomenon of our times. It's no wonder
that so many stage musicals compete with rock concerts in their
presentations to appeal to today's live audiences. P.T. Barnum said
it all with Follow the Band. If you've never seen a star quality
rock concert and want to see what you've missed, then We
Will Rock You will - well, rock you, and then some.
In 1698, Jeremy Collier, an indignant English clergyman, expressed great concern about playwright William Congreve's ‘smutty language' and the fact that Rakes and Libertines were portrayed as heroes in his plays. In reaction to that morale crusade, Congreve is supposed to have approached The Way of the World (written two years later) with a more critical attitude, showing that Mrs Millamant's cruel toying with men's feelings, and Mr Mirabel's sexual exploitation of women were not really all that funny. The net result is a bittersweet comedy where honest emotions prevail. And it is surely not for nothing that the heroine's name - dissected into French as “mille amants” - shows us that this young woman, with her thousand lovers, is far from the innocent young thing we might expect her to be. 
