Tag: Arts Club

Matchmaker embraces farce

Ric Reid and Nicola Lipman co-star in The Matchmaker, which is at the Stanley until Feb. 24. (photo by David Cooper)

If you are an aficionado of the absurd, an enthusiast of the exaggerated, a supporter of slapstick and an overall buffoonery buff, then set a date to see The Matchmaker.

Thornton Wilder’s work has taken over the Stanley Theatre with all the intensity and madness a play can muster and keeps farce fans delighted from opening curtain to final applause.

Matchmaker, which was first staged in 1955, is the retelling of Wilder’s original farce The Merchant of Yonkers and was a precursor to Hello Dolly!, one of the most popular Broadway plays of all time. It was made into a movie in 1969 starring Barbra Streisand in the title role of Dolly Levi.

Levi – played by Nicola Lipman in the Arts Club production – is the thread in the play that winds its way through four relationships of star-crossed lovers and would-be elopers. She’s a woman who “arranges things,” but is generally bored with life. The forceful matchmaker goes to Yonkers under the pretence of finding a wife for the crotchety Scrooge-like storeowner Horace Vandergelder (Ric Reid). Her real motive, however, is to snatch Vandergelder for herself.

Along the way, Levi tries to cement the relationships of Vandergelder’s niece, Ermengarde, and struggling artist Ambrose Kemper; milliner Irene Molloy and Vandergelder’s chief clerk, Cornelius Hackl; and Molloy’s assistant Minnie Fay and store clerk Barnaby Tucker. Quite a bit of work for one day, but Levi is ready to put in the effort if it will get her what she wants. She even goes so far as to make up an extensive story that she tells Vandergelder about a fictional 19-year-old potential spouse, just to keep him from marrying anyone else. And she tells Molloy that Hackl is a millionaire known in the best levels of society in order to ensure Molloy loses interest in Vandergelder. And that’s all just in the first act!

The second act brings all the characters together at the home of Flora Van Huysen, a friend of Ermengarde’s late mother, who Vandergelder hopes will keep Ermengarde and Kemper apart. But, it turns out the over-the-top opera-singing spinster is a romantic at heart and, despite a series of confused identities, manages to bring all the relevant couples together.

Now, it’s understood that a farce is comprised of ludicrous situations, improbable plot lines, absurd characters, exaggerated fashion and just about anything that falls under the categories of irony, satire and bad wit. Even so, I expect there to be some consistency within a person’s character, some personality traits that remain the same despite the nonsense of any given situation. I found that missing (or misdirected) in Molloy, one of the key characters, and an original love interest of Vandergelder.

Molloy is a hat-maker who admits to never having adventure in her life, and being very limited in her socializing. Yet, when she finally goes out to a restaurant, she acts like she goes out on the town every night, ordering the best food, telling people what to do, convincing the two clerks to sing in order to get a date.

Also, Molloy and Hackl supposedly fall in love at first sight. The feelings are clearly evident from Hackl’s actions, but it’s hard to get any sense of interest from Molloy.

It makes sense that Hackl, whose experience with women is so minimal, basically falls in love with the first one he meets and laments the fact that he has so little knowledge about the opposite sex.

“I’ll bet you could know a woman 100 years and never really know if she likes you or not,” he says, presenting an observation that many would say holds true.

Now, just in case you were wondering if this level of farce is your cup of tea, here are a couple of examples of the humour you’ll see. When Minnie Fay kisses store clerk Barnaby Tucker, he goes all “aw, shucks” and falls down. There’s a knee-slapper!

In another scene, they need some help from a cabbie, so they ask him, “Do you want to earn $5?” The cabman replies, “I don’t know; I’ve never tried.” (Cue the ba-dum-tshh post-groaner sound effect.)

If you enjoy these types of laughs, then Matchmaker should be right up your alley.

In a final note, kudos go out to set and costume designer Drew Facey for absolutely gorgeous visuals, and composer and sound designer (Jewish community member) Mishelle Cuttler for a score that complements the frenetic action on stage.

The Matchmaker runs at the Stanley Industrial Alliance Stage until Feb. 24. For tickets, visit artsclub.com.

Baila Lazarus is a Vancouver-based writer and principal media strategist at bailalazarus.com.

Curious Incident stellar

Ghazal Azarbad, as Siobhan, a special-ed teacher, and Daniel Doheny, as Christopher, who has Asperger’s, often work in tandem in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. (photo by David Cooper)

Left, right, left, right. Follow the red line. Left, right, left, right. Through the tunnel. Up the stairs. Left, right, left, right. Take the A-Levels, get an A star, become a mathematical genius. Left, right, left, right….

Such are the thought processes of Christopher Boone, a 15-year-old with Asperger syndrome, who is the central character in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.

Asperger’s is a developmental disorder on the autism spectrum characterized by repetitive, single-minded actions, inappropriate social interaction and highly focused interests. In Christopher’s case, those interests involve solving a mystery about a neighbour’s dog that was killed with a pitchfork; writing a story about how he solves the crime; and doing his A-Levels math exams because he wants to be a mathematical genius.

The story he writes becomes a play within the play performed by the staff at the special school he attends. The audience is taken on this journey by his special-education teacher reading from the text he wrote; by Christopher narrating events in the robotic fashion that is often symptomatic of Asperger’s; and by the actual events interwoven through the show in present-day and flashbacks.

The pace is frenetic, even mind-numbing at times, and works as a metaphor for Christopher’s view of the world – where things we take for granted don’t make sense to him and he has to create his own processes and order for self-protection.

Christopher can describe and explain a black hole to the smallest scientific detail, but cannot understand that he shouldn’t call his classmates “stupid.”

He can quote statistics at random – “You are most likely to be killed by a family member on Christmas day” – but doesn’t like yellow food.

Similar to the character in the TV program The Good Doctor, an autistic surgeon with savant syndrome, Christopher is a genius in his realm of specialty – mathematics – but must do things his way, which is constantly putting him at odds with the rest of world.

Protecting him from this outside harm is his father, with whom he lives in Swindon, England. As patient as his father tries to be, the challenge of dealing with Christopher’s proclivity to be single-minded, as exhibited in his investigation of the dog’s death, drives his father to rage, eventually leading to a physical altercation in which Christopher is hit. Nonetheless, Christopher cannot let go of this obsession. “Sometimes, you have to ignore what people tell you to do,” he says, which is characteristic of someone with Asperger’s.

One day, Christopher finds out that his father has lied to him about what happened to his mother. Up until this point, his father was one of the few people Christopher could trust, even to just touch him or hold him. When this trust is broken, Christopher sets out on what, for him, is a terrifying and difficult journey.

In one of the more dazzling, complicated and mezmerizing scenes of the play, Christopher must make his way through the complexity of the train stations, dancing in and around the other travelers, while avoiding touching them, and then figuring out the timing of how one actually steps onto the train car from the platform, which he’s never done.

He eventually finds what he’s looking for, but the result is not what had hoped for. He ends up returning to Swindon to take his A-Level maths, in an effort to get an A-star rating, and to try and rebuild the relationship with his father.

While local rising star Daniel Doheny is stellar in this challenging performance, and Todd Thomson is compelling as the tormented father, what really makes the play brilliant is the creative team. The direction, movement, blocking, timing, set design and lighting are remarkable. Jewish community member Itai Erdal was the lighting designer of the production. And particular mention must go to a simple but highly effective prop that lifts and drops part of the stage, turning it into a train platform for one scene, then lowering it to form the seat on the train in another.

As a caution, the actors bring everything to bear in this performance, so be prepared for very loud yelling, moaning and frenetic action – often by multiple actors at once, as the chorus works to amplify Christopher’s feelings and racing mind – as well as some swearing. A “relaxed” special performance runs Sept. 30 that includes lower sound levels, lights and projections that are more subdued, and a relaxation station in the lobby equipped with a live feed so audience members can take a break from being inside the theatre without missing what’s happening on stage.

Though this play can be troublesome, chaotic and even exhausting to watch, it is one of my favourites of the past year and I highly recommend it.

The Curious Incident runs until Oct. 7 at the Stanley Industrial Alliance Stage (artsclub.com).

Baila Lazarus is a Vancouver-based writer and principal media strategist at bailalazarus.com.

Once will be enough

Gili Roskies and Adrian Glynn McMorran in Once at Granville Island Stage. (photo by Emily Cooper)

Walking into the Arts Club Theatre’s Granville Island Stage and seeing a bar set up on stage is usually not a big deal. But when it turns out that the bar is a working bar for theatre-goers, well, that is a nice twist.

Not only can you go up on stage to buy your drink, the cast of the play (musicians all) hang out and mingle and eventually start playing instruments as patrons stand about chatting. Then, as audience members make their way to their seats, just a few movements on stage get the set ready for the first scene.

Once is set in Dublin’s music scene and opens with the male lead, known only as “Guy” (Adrian Glynn McMorran), singing and playing guitar despondently in a bar. “Girl” (Jewish community member Gili Roskies) admires his singing and starts up a conversation about his songs. He explains that he wrote them for a girlfriend who left him and moved to New York, and now he’s giving up his music and devoting his time to working as a vacuum salesman. Girl convinces him to fix a vacuum she has and, as payment, she’ll play piano for him. They end up at a music store where the two sing the breakout hit “Falling Slowly.” Girl, a Czech immigrant, cannot afford her own piano, so the music storeowner lets her use his.

After that, Girl insinuates herself into Guy’s life. She bugs him to go after his former girlfriend and win her back with his songs, she signs him up for an open-mic night and she even makes an appointment with a banker on Guy’s behalf to get a loan to book a recording studio. (Though broke, with no collateral, Guy gets the loan by playing a song for the banker. Ahhh, if only that happened in real life.)

As to be expected, the two fall for each other, but keep things platonic, as Girl is actually married and might reconcile with her estranged husband; and, eventually, Guy sees the possibility of getting back with his girlfriend, too.

Despite the romantic settings and interactions between the two main characters, I was never fully engrossed in this play. I didn’t find the chemistry between Guy and Girl to be that captivating and I think I got somewhat annoyed by the mixed messages and constant back-and-forth of emotions demonstrated by Girl for Guy. Guy’s feelings for her were clear; Girl was all over the map.

There are also several long, convoluted stories that seem only to end in lame jokes, and some odd dance routines whose choreography I just didn’t get. In this case, as with many productions, I found the backstory more interesting.

Once is based on a 2007 Irish film in the musical drama genre. The sleeper hit was made for only $150,000 US and grossed more than $23 million US. Part of its success was no doubt due to winning audience awards at both the Sundance and Dublin film festivals, the Independent Spirit Award for best foreign film in 2007 and an Academy Award for best original song, “Falling Slowly,” in 2008. The soundtrack was nominated for a Grammy.

The musical did even better, winning eight of 11 Tony nominations on Broadway in 2012, including best musical, as well as a host of other awards for productions around the world.

“Falling Slowly” was written, composed and performed by the film’s co-stars, Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová, specifically for the film and recorded by Hansard’s band, the Frames. Many of the other songs in the production were provided by Hansard and Irglová and gave them material to perform together in the years following the film’s release. The film’s director, John Carney, called Hansard and Irglová his Bogart and Bacall.

Unfortunately, that chemistry is nowhere to be found on stage at the Arts Club. Thankfully, their performance of “Falling Slowly” does justice to the original, and is one of the highlights of the play, as is an a cappella version of the song “Gold,” sung by the entire cast. The voices and musicianship are all of high quality and there is definitely sweetness in this play, but once was enough for me to see it.

Once runs until July 29 at the Arts Club Granville Island Stage. For tickets, visit artsclub.com.

Baila Lazarus is a Vancouver-based writer and principal media strategist at bailalazarus.com.

If you’re feeling down

Warren Kimmel and Cathy Wilmot in Arts Club’s Mamma Mia. (photo by David Cooper)

Warning: The song titles mentioned in this article have been known to cause stuck-song syndrome for several weeks. Read at your own peril.

So, let’s say it’s Friday night and the lights are low, and you’re looking out for a place to go. Is the music in your head yet?

Even if the simple mention of the name Mamma Mia doesn’t have you drumming up ABBA songs in your head that get stuck there for days at a time, don’t jump to any quick conclusions about whether you’ll enjoy this play. I am not a raving ABBA fan, but highly recommend it – for the singing, the characters and, very last but far from least, the outrageous closing number.

If, for some reason, this were the last review I were able to write, I would put down my pen feeling complete, having seen Warren Kimmel prance around stage in a hot pink jump suit singing ABBA. Does this man’s talent know no bounds?

It’s also worthy to see, at least once, the show that has had such lasting power and whose celluloid “offspring” has broken records.

The title of the 1999 musical was taken from the group’s 1975 hit. In London’s West End, it became the eighth-longest running show in history, as well as the ninth-longest-running show in Broadway history, closing in 2015 after 14 years.

In 2008, Mamma Mia became the highest-grossing film to ever be released in the United Kingdom, beating Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

But, if you’re not one of the huge Mamma Mia fans out there, you may not know the story.

We open on a Greek island, where Sophie and friends are planning for her wedding. Sophie reveals that, upon reading her mother’s journals, she may know the identity of her father, whom her mother left before Sophie was born. Sophie has narrowed the list to three potentials and, without telling her mother, invites them to the wedding.

When the possible dads show up, mom is more than a little surprised and curious that they all ended up coincidentally on her island at the same time, but even they don’t know at first the real reason they were summoned.

Dad potential Bill Austin (Warren Kimmel) is the early favourite, but the question of who the real father is stays up in the air – and please, no bribes this time. I’m not telling.

This is really the feel-good play of the summer. The singing is fabulous and many of the dance numbers (including seven guys doing a can-can wearing diving flippers) are highly entertaining.

If you’re a fan of Absolutely Fabulous, you’ll recognize a lot of Joanna Lumley’s character Patsy in Mamma Mia’s Tanya. One half-expects her to pull out a cigarette and bottle of booze and start tripping around the stage.

Even a mild ABBA fan will enjoy the music and the way the lyrics are woven into the story. Since the words of many of ABBA’s songs talk about relationships and life, they lend themselves well to being adapted into dialogue and plot.

I am left with two complaints, however. The first is the exaggerated movements and over-acting that permeate the first quarter of the production. It seems to be a fault of many musicals, as though every sentence that isn’t sung needs grand arm gestures or running around the stage for no reason. Once that dies down, however, you are free to sit back, tap your toes and enjoy the fun.

The second has to do with a dream sequence that completely lacks any esthetic cohesion. A chorus in full-body leotards, leaves on their heads and arms, left me with more questions than answers about what was going on.

But this is where the story ends, this is goodbye. I know some JI readers might think Mamma Mia is just going to be a silly romp. However, if you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down, if you change your mind, be the first in line … oops, there I go again.

Mamma Mia is at the Stanley Industrial Alliance Stage until Aug. 12. For tickets and information, visit artsclub.com.

Baila Lazarus is a Vancouver-based writer and principal media strategist at bailalazarus.com.

Peek behind the stage

Left to right: Ryan Beil, Megan Leitch and James Fagan Tait in Jitters. (photo by David Cooper)

Let’s hear it for the play-within-a-play, the vehicle that takes the audience from front-of-house to backstage dressing room, into the psyche of live theatre, chock-full of clever lines, employing slapstick that isn’t overdone and providing first-rate acting and laughs from beginning to end. Jitters is simply a great way to spend an evening.

Similar to Michael Frayn’s Noises Off, which ran at the Playhouse in 2004, Jitters – presented by Arts Club Theatre – follows the launch of a new performance (The Care and Treatment of Roses) from chaotic on-stage rehearsals to backstage conflict and confusion. But, whereas Noises relies on physical comedy, Jitters is more about the frailness and insecurities of actors, particularly Canadian actors who see the United States as a means to success.

In Jitters, the playwright, director and (almost) entire cast are hoping their play will be brought to Broadway by an American producer who may or may not be in the audience.

The play gets its name from opening-night jitters, as director George is doing his best to open Roses on time with the whole cast in attendance – not an easy thing to do when one actor ends up in hospital, another shows up drunk and a third simply walks out. Like a coach in the dressing room at half-time, George’s tactics include mollycoddling, pleading, motivating, scolding, ego-stroking, pacifying and all-around sucking up to get his actors in line. And each one needs a different kind of hand-holding.

Though she is fawned over as the star of Roses, diva Jessica (Megan Leitch) still has self-doubt, but George’s attempt to boost her confidence falls on deaf ears. “You look gorgeous,” he tells her in dress rehearsal.

“Liar! I look like a Barbie doll for octogenarians,” she hisses.

And, in a hilarious moment, George asks, “Can we discuss this like adults?” she answers, “We aren’t adults; we’re actors.”

Then there’s Phil (James Fagan Tait), the neurotic shlemazl who starts every sentence with, “I don’t want to burden you,” before complaining about his wardrobe, his hairpiece, his life and the fact that there is no prompter (as he tends to get ulcers at the thought of forgetting his lines); Patrick (Robert Moloney), the acrimonious, jealous co-star who would rather be a big fish in Canadian theatre than risk failure on Broadway; and Tom (Kamyar Pazendeh), whose novice uncertainty is a refreshing contrast to the other actors’ cynicism. Tom is going to be a great actor because “he’s got the right combination of empathy and self-absorption.”

Meanwhile, the playwright Robert (played by Jewish community member Ryan Beil – a dead ringer for Eric Idle in this role) is a nervous wreck, wincing and arguing every time his script is changed to indulge the actors.

While Jitters doesn’t highlight physical comedy, as seen in Noises Off, the verbal jousting is far better. The script pillories the treatment of Canadian actors (“Where else can you be a top-notch actor all your life and still die broke and anonymous?”) but it also examines the complexity of the characters who one moment are insulting and backstabbing each other and the next moment hugging in understanding.

The neuroses, capriciousness and insecurities of the actors allow for wonderfully fun performances, but I didn’t find the quality equal across the board. I thought Tait’s hapless encounters and expressive reactions stole the show, while Leitch seemed to be overplaying the part she’s supposed to be overplaying.

Final kudos must go to the set design. The stunning detail of the dressing room after the 360-degree turn of the stage before the second act was so unexpected, it actually drew applause from the audience, which I have rarely seen.

Two jittery thumbs up.

Jitters runs at Stanley Industrial Alliance Stage under the direction of David Mackay (who, by the way, also starred in Noises Off) until Feb. 25. For tickets, visit artsclub.com.

 

Baila Lazarus is a Vancouver-based writer and principal media strategist at bailalazarus.com.

A toast to love, Onegin

(photo by Baila Lazarus)

Josh Epstein raises a glass to toast lyubov (love) in recognition of the theme of the hit play Onegin, in which he plays a jealous lover. In a rare opportunity, theatre-goers are actually encouraged to bring their drinks with them into the auditorium in order to join the cast when they toast. Onegin, which is a musical with comedic overtones, has been brought back to the Arts Club after a successful showing in 2016 and runs until Dec. 31 at the Granville Island stage. For tickets and more information, visit artsclub.com.

Bittergirl is seriously funny

In Bittergirl, Cailin Stadnyk, Katrina Reynolds and Lauren Bowler play women who have just been dumped by their boyfriends – maybe they can get back their men if they lose some weight? (photo by Emily Cooper)

Have you ever taken part in an aerobics class and wondered how many of the women in it were trying to lose weight to get a boyfriend back? The sad truth is, there are probably many, eagerly trying anything to return to the way things were, even if the way things were wasn’t all that great.

Bittergirl: The Musical takes aim at countless breakup truisms from the perspectives of three different women, reminiscent of the sharp wit in Mom’s the Word and the relationship charades of Sex in the City. Their varied responses to being dumped are hilariously insightful.

The progress of the play loosely follows the five stages of death: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. The stages of the breakups are denial (he made a mistake), second-guessing (I could have done something differently), manipulation (I’m going to make him love me), reflection (I should have seen the warning signs) and acceptance (I’m over him, I’ve moved on).

The three women – played by Lauren Bowler, Katrina Reynolds and Cailin Stadnyk – are known only as A, B and C, as though these trials and tribulations are those that belong to every woman, not a specific person. Jewish community member Josh Epstein plays D, all three of the dumpers – the husband who wants to join the RCMP, the live-in partner who just “has to go” and the boyfriend who’s lost his “magic.”

Epstein delivers the stereotypical reasons why he needs to get out of each relationship: “I feel trapped,” “I can’t give you what you want” and the ridiculous “We’ve got to be birds flying higher.”

The lame rationales elicit howls of laughter at the familiarity, especially when one of the women initially thinks that the “talk” her boyfriend wants to have will lead to a proposal.

Not surprisingly, the women stand there, stunned into silence, not demanding further explanation, but meekly mumbling things like, “I understand,” even though they don’t – another conventional reaction it is sadly not surprising to see depicted.

After their men leave, the women think about what they might have done differently to save their relationships – “Maybe if I wore plum eyeshadow,” “Maybe if I didn’t talk to my mother so much” and “Maybe if I worked out more.” This last statement segues into an hysterical scene of the three women working out with various gizmos and in different types of classes in a desperate bid to get in shape and win back their men.

photo - Katrina Reynolds and Josh Epstein in Bittergirl, at the Arts Club Granville Island Stage until July 29
Katrina Reynolds and Josh Epstein in Bittergirl, at the Arts Club Granville Island Stage until July 29. (photo by Emily Cooper)

The women also reflect on the warnings signs they missed. He wears socks with sandals. He cries at Celine Dion songs. He growls during sex.

Especially comical is a scene where the women run into friends and they are forced to admit they were dumped. The standard, “You’re better off without him” or “If you guys couldn’t make it work, what chance do the rest of us have?” hit the mark on how insensitive people can be, much to the enjoyment of the audience. The rapid-fire delivery of the lines, the women playing off each other brilliantly, is a sight to see and hear.

As the musical progresses, classic girl-group songs of the 1960s and ’70s complement the dialogue. Thinking about their first dates leads into “And Then He Kissed Me.” The initial breakups prompt a rendition of “Mama Said There’d Be Days Like This.” When the women hope they’ll have a chance to renew the relationship, they sing “When Will I See You Again?” And who hasn’t felt the difficulty of moving on because there’s “Always Something There to Remind Me”?

The strength of the play is in how the writing spotlights those moments we all know so well and that sound so absurd when depicted one after the other. Being reminded of one’s own failed relationships, watching the play is like watching a good comedian – often funny and, despite being cringeworthy at times, you want to stay to the finale.

As with the different stages of death, the women finally accept their situations and move on with their lives, singing such lyrics as “you don’t really love me; you just keep me hanging on,” there are “too many fish in the sea” and “I will survive.”

Bittergirl is actually an autobiographical play written by three Toronto actresses who had, indeed, just gotten dumped by a husband, live-in boyfriend and short-term partner. The positive reaction to the play led to the 2005 book Bittergirl: Getting Over Getting Dumped. After that, the writers added the songs, accompanied by an all-female band onstage, and the musical was born.

Besides the sharp, insightful writing, these women (and Epstein) can all belt out a tune, making the performance a hit from the beginning to the (not so) bitter end.

Bittergirl runs at the Arts Club Granville Island Stage until July 29. For tickets and more information, visit artsclub.com.

Baila Lazarus is Vancouver-based writer and principal media strategist at phase2coaching.com.

A coming-of-age story

Nolan Fahey plays the title character in Arts Club’s Billy Elliot. (photo by David Cooper)

There are no big surprises in Billy Elliot, no bizarre twists or jaw-dropping turns of events, no mistaken identities or star-crossed lovers. But what you do get is class struggle, a feel-good story and exceptional singing, dancing and acting all with high-octane energy from start to finish.

Given that the musical is based on the 2000 movie of the same name, most people will already know the story. But even if you haven’t seen the film, you’ll likely figure out beforehand that Billy Elliot traces a coming-of-age-dusting-off-the-dirt-of-this-town tale of a young boy wanting to be a dancer. He sees an audition in London as a way out of the coal-mining misery that has made up the lives of his father and brother.

Living in England’s County Durham, 11-year-old Billy stumbles across a ballet class when he’s supposed to be taking boxing lessons. The 50p his father gives him to learn jabs and upper cuts goes instead to Mrs. Wilkinson to teach him pliés and pirouettes.

Meanwhile, his father, brother and neighbors, part of the National Union of Mine Workers, are struggling to make ends meet as they head out on strike protesting the closure of the coal mines during Margaret Thatcher’s reign in the 1980s.

The contrast of the gruff, angry, mob-like miners, the police at the picket lines and the young girls and Billy in their dance outfits illustrates how far apart their worlds are. One of the best dance numbers brings these three groups together to sing “Solidarity,” with the ballet dancers flitting in between the rows of men as they stomp about the stage.

As Billy moves between these two worlds, he has to conceal his desire for dance, for fear of reprisals and embarrassment.

photo - Warren Kimmel, left, Nolan Fahey and Caitriona Murphy in Billy Elliot
Warren Kimmel, left, Nolan Fahey and Caitriona Murphy in Billy Elliot. (photo by David Cooper)

When Billy’s father – played by Jewish community member Warren Kimmel – finds out where his son has been spending his afternoons (and his money), he’s furious. Even though Billy’s teacher thinks her young student has a chance to get into the Royal Ballet School, Billy’s family has other plans.

In the end, Billy’s dad has to choose between earning money as a scab in order to send Billy to his audition, or support his brothers on the picket line.

Throughout the play, the scenes shift between the lighthearted dancing and the sombre mood in Billy’s home and on the picket line. With Kimmel front and centre as Billy’s father, his despondent singing is evocative of his performance of the policeman Javert in Les Misérables last year and, indeed, the storyline – and songs – of class struggle in Billy is reminiscent of the same in Les Mis.

On the dancing side, Billy has touches of the studio work and audition of Flashdance and the off-the-wall anger dancing of Footloose, while tap-dancing men in drag bring a bit of humor to the show.

All in all this play flies by. The level of performance of Nolan Fahey as Billy, Caitriona Murphy as the dance teacher Mrs. Wilkinson and Kimmel as the dad, along with a strong cast that can shuffle and slide as well as they croon, makes this a standout production.

Billy Elliot – with music by Elton John and lyrics by Lee Hall – debuted in London’s West End in 2005, garnering critical acclaim, winning four Laurence Olivier Awards in London, followed by 10 Tony Awards in New York.

The work is not John’s first foray into musical theatre. In the 1990s, he and Tim Rice collaborated to produce the soundtrack for The Lion King, for which they won Academy and Tony awards, including best musical. Then, in 2000, they collaborated on Aida, which won them each a Grammy.

Billy Elliot runs at the Stanley Industrial Alliance Stage until July 10. Tickets can be purchased from artsclub.com. Parents wanting to take their kids should note that the show includes a lot of swearing.

Baila Lazarus is a freelance writer and media trainer in Vancouver. Her consulting work can be seen at phase2coaching.com.

Glimpse into The Valley

Daniel Doheny and Kerry Sandomirsky in The Valley, which tackles the subject of depression. (photo by Emily Cooper)

As The Valley opens, a young man addresses the audience with the words, “Encounters with the police No. 1.”

It’s a stark opening, as the character – Connor – stands in a spotlight on a circular stage, with the three other actors behind him in the shadows. The monologue represents both the beginning and end to the play. It establishes a sense of the past – about what brought the characters to their current situation – as well as the present, when they are revealing themselves in a healing circle. Each of the players eventually gets to speak directly to the audience in turn, and the drama of the performance unfolds between the monologues.

Essentially, the play is about the effect of depression in two different families – a police officer (Dan) and his wife (Janie), who has just given birth and has a history of depression; and a mother (Sharon) and son (Connor), who has an episode when he’s 18. Amazingly, all the action takes place within the circular stage – a relevant choice for the performance.

“The show is a very intimate show, though the Granville Island stage is not considered intimate,” set designer Amir Ofek explained. “We wanted it ‘in your face,’ not hiding behind a proscenium arch.”

When faced with the decision of whether to use a more literal interpretation of the play for the set design, Ofek said he wanted to avoid switching between the staging of homes of each family, the police station, the Skytrain and other locations in order to keep the intensity going.

“As a designer, I have to delve into the play to find a unique way of doing things,” he said, adding that he tried in the design to convey the protagonists’ characteristics of intensity and fragility by having part of the set jut out of the stage, as though it might fall on the audience any minute.

“There’s a sense of brutality in the play, as well,” Ofek said. “It’s reflected in the edginess of the material of the set.”

Intense, brutal and fragile are perfect words to describe the characters. When Connor quits university after wanting to go for so long, his mother Sharon is at a loss. She tries so hard to change his mind – pleading, cajoling, trying logic and guilt. She is helpless against an illness that has yet to even reveal itself. When an “incident at Joyce Station” takes place, her lament to the audience is heartwrenching: “What to expect at 18 years, three months – your child will break in two.”

In the other household, Dan struggles to be supportive of his wife when she is having depressive episodes, but he has his own demons to bear from being a police officer.

“Every holiday you’ve ever looked forward to – they’re all on our s–t list,” he says, referring to the increase in crime and misdemeanors around holiday time. “Hookers, jumpers, pushers, junkies, racers, strippers – hundreds of things you don’t want to hear about.”

Ironically, it was through his work that Dan met his wife, helping get her clean and off the street. Their struggle is particularly disquieting to watch as it’s so clear how much they love each other, but seem to be always living on the edge of a breakdown.

When Dan arrests Connor in the “incident at Joyce Station,” there’s a struggle that sends Connor to the hospital and results in months of being housebound in his depression, unable or unwilling to listen to his mother, who is constantly on him to do something.

Eventually, Dan and Janie get an invitation to a healing circle to help Connor deal with the aftermath of the incident. But, like his refusal to pay attention to his wife’s bouts of depression, Dan refuses to hear anything about a healing circle. Janie goes on her own and is able to connect with Connor because she shares his ailment and understands what he’s going through. Through Janie, Sharon finds out something that allows her to let go of her own anger.

This play is not easy to watch but it’s an important one to see, if only to get a bit more understanding of how people suffer with despair and hopelessness – sometimes for months or years at a time. It’s estimated that 10% of adults in Canada will experience a serious depressive episode in their lifetimes.

The Valley stars Daniel Doheny as Connor, Kerry Sandomirsky as Sharon, Pippa Mackie as Janie and Robert Salvador as Dan. It’s directed by Mindy Parfitt, with lighting by Itai Erdal, and runs at the Arts Club (artsclub.com) Granville Island stage until May 7.

Baila Lazarus is a freelance writer and media trainer in Vancouver. Her consulting work can be seen at phase2coaching.com.

 

Is life all about luck?

Colleen Wheeler and Scott Bellis in Good People. (photo by Emily Cooper)

It’s always a treat to see Colleen Wheeler on stage, as her performances never disappoint. And she keeps the track record going in Good People at the Arts Club. However, the overall feel I came away with after the play didn’t match the level of enjoyment I had for the acting.

Wheeler plays Margaret, a feisty, mile-a-minute talker who can finagle her way into anything, except work.

Living in South Boston, a dense, lower-class neighborhood, Marg blames her situation on bad luck – growing up without the guidance of parents, not being able to go to a better school or get a better job. She fears she will end up like former classmate Cookie McDermot, an alcoholic living on the street.

As the play opens, Marg is being fired from a cashier’s job at a dollar store after coming late several times. The single mother is often late because she has to tend to a daughter who has mental health issues – a daughter for whom she gets no child support and who may or may not be the child of a former high school flame.

She commiserates about life over McCafés in bingo parlors with her friend Jeanne (Jenn Griffin), former supervisor Stevie (Ben Elliott) and landlord Dottie (Patti Allan), who is supposed to watch Marg’s daughter but often forgets to show up. One day, Jeanne mentions that she ran into Mike, an old boyfriend of Marg’s who has become a doctor, so Marg sets out to talk her way into a job.

Within minutes of walking into Mike’s office, she profanely insults his secretary and comments on her physical appearance. She insults Mike himself, saying he’s not a “Southie” anymore, that he now lives “lace curtain.” And she passive-aggressively follows up every abuse with the disclaimer, “Awww, I’m just bustin’ your balls.”

Despite all of this, her mastery at twisting Mike’s words and actually making him feel guilty for the altercations get her invited to an upcoming party. When Mike calls her later that week to cancel because his daughter is sick, Marg begins to think he doesn’t want her to attend – and goes anyway. It is in this scene where Marg, Mike and his wife, Kate, face one another that the skeletons of the past are unleashed.

It starts out as a respectful interaction, with Kate being the gracious host, despite Marg’s rough demeanor and colorful language.

“How’s the wine?” Kate politely asks.

“How the f–– should I know?” Marg retorts, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the question.

But the discussion deteriorates, as expected, as Mike tries desperately to get Marg to leave. When details of past affairs and questions of “Who’s the baby’s father?” come up, Marg pulls out the claws and tries to tear strips off Mike, lashing out at him for having had the luck he needed to rise out of the South End, the luck to have parents who pushed him, the luck never to have to really struggle.

In much of the play, we are listening to people arguing, complaining and name-calling, which gets tedious. At one level, Marg is a likeable, even inspirational, character. Consider how often we pretend to be aficionados of art or wine or food, just to be accepted. Marg makes no apologies for not knowing how wine should taste.

But, for most of the play, Marg is insufferable. Her constant stream of talking is exhausting. She resorts to, “I’m just bustin’ your balls,” to cover up insults based on her true feelings. And she is stuck blaming everyone and everything around her for her situation. We should be provoked into asking ourselves, how much does luck actually play in success in life? The problem was, I didn’t care by the end, and I think it’s because I just disliked Marg.

However, I did like the set. Wonderfully thought out and detailed, the modular rooms rotate into, out of and around the stage, with beautiful precision. You could hear the audience’s “oohs” and “aahs” as the curtain rose on the second act.

Good People was written by David Lindsay-Abaire and is directed by Rachel Ditor. It runs until April 24 at the Stanley (artsclub.com).

Baila Lazarus is a freelance writer and media trainer in Vancouver. Her consulting work can be seen at phase2coaching.com.