Macbeth -- Bard on the Beach

Story in 2 sentences:

Three witches tell Macbeth he's going to be king, so he kills his way to the throne.  His wife is a piece of work.

People who should see this show:

People with deep voices

People who need a nap

Well, someone must have said it backstage. 

Macbeth.  Macbeth Macbeth Macbeth.

I had been looking forward to this one.  I enjoy Colleen Wheeler and Duncan Fraser, I think Lois Anderson is the bomb, and I have always liked this play.  Hubby had also been looking forward to it; it's short. Amazing how the perfect ingredients can still make a horrible dish.

Let's start with the performances.

Colleen Wheeler has a lovely resonant voice, and she certainly knows it.  By her second line, I had begun to understand what had annoyed me so much about the witches:  she had laid down the gauntlet and they had accepted the challenge.  They were having a resonant voice contest.  Combined with Bob Frazer's incredible dramatic technique - look noble and speak slowly (I once heard a director accuse an actor of being a black hole on stage, which perfectly describes Frazer's performance) - their scenes were interminable.  I swear they ran out of underscoring. 

The rest of the cast had their problems as well:  Anton Lipovetsky's wide- eyed Malcolm, for example.  I had been pleased to see him cast in a Bard show, having liked his performance in Rent a few years ago, but he was a disappointment as Malcolm:  uninteresting histrionics combined with focus- pulling mugging.  Speaking of mugging, John Murphy, playing several smaller parts, firmly believed he was the only one onstage.  His cookie-cutter porter was annoyingly out of place in this plodding dramatic work.

Plodding, you say?  Let's talk about direction.  First of all, a purely technical note:  the stage is a thrust, and it was blocked for a proscenium.  Which alienates half of the audience.

Artistically, it was uninspired. 

Everyone knows Macbeth.  We've all studied it.  The reason to see it at Bard is to see something you haven't noticed before, and, hopefully, a special little twist that gives you a new insight.  The new thing I noticed was that there are an awful lot of monologues.  Seriously.  That's it.  The design was similarly uninspired.  In that there was basically no set design and the drab costumes (meant to highlight the somber mood of the piece) highlighted only the boredom one felt as one waited for intermission.  And then curtain.  No one would ever put up with this if it were a contemporary playwright, but it seems that every year there is at least one Bard director who doesn’t see the need to do any real work.

Don't bother.  Save your money for The Merry Wives of Windsor.  Plays until September 20th.

Some highlights:

Craig Erickson's Banquo:  by far the strongest of the cast.

The witches turning invisible:  that was pretty cool.

Banquo's ghost scene:  really well done, and the only reason I came back for the second act (turned out there was nothing worthwhile to see after that, though).

The Merry Wives of Windsor -- Bard on the Beach

Story in 2 sentences:

Falstaff tries to seduce Mistress Page and Mistress Ford.  Instead, they fuck him up.

People who should see this show:

Anyone not from Windsor

Anyone from Windsor (but you might get a little annoyed)

Note:  This is an amazing show and I highly recommend you see it, despite the inaccuracies.

Let it be said that I loved this show, but not as much as my husband did.  You see, the production has been set in Windsor, Ontario, and that is also where the first decade and a half of my life was set.  His enjoyment was not handicapped by reality.

The direction was phenomenal.  The performances were almost all incredible.  The problem, and it's a large one for me (and everyone else from Windsor that I've told about it), was Johnna Wright's concept.

When I think of Windsor in the 1960s, I think of the two categories of story told by my family from that era:  Motown (Windsor is across the river from Detroit), and the Ford (and Chrysler and GM) auto plants.  When I heard that the only play Shakespeare wrote that starred the middle class was going to be set in Windsor, I looked forward to seeing what would be done with the fact that two of the main characters in the play were Mr and Mrs Ford.  When I found out that there would be live music, I immediately started mentally flipping through my dad's LPs, searching out the perfect Motown songs.

Instead, I was presented with country music - well performed, and yes, I like country - but as far as Windsorite music preferences go, I am an anomaly - for the completely reasonable dramaturgical position that Johnna Wright likes country music from the 60s.  Nothing was done with the name Ford, which is even more ridiculous:  I have never gone through a day in Windsor without at least one conversation about someone working at Ford's.  Or Chrysler's.  Or GM.

Pam Johnson and Drew Facey's design followed the conceptual folly:  cowgirl outfits and a country bar.  Characters wandering through with curling brooms - our trashy Canadian sport is bowling, thank you very much.

These were the thoughts wandering through my mind, distracting me from the best production I have seen at Bard since Henry V. 

You should go, though, unless you're from Windsor.  You won't know the difference, and it truly is a gem.  One small annoyance:  if you are a woman who doesn't like being brought onstage, don't sit in the front row.  Plays until September 21st

Some highlights:

 Patti Allan's Mistress Quickly:  comic genius, brilliant facial expressions without ever pulling focus, and an easy rapport with every scene partner.

Alex Rose's vocals:  he's good.

Katey Wright and Amber Lewis's scenes:  there are a lot of them (cause they're the title roles), so good that they work well together; Wright is a little less forced, and more enjoyable to watch, but Lewis holds her own.

David Marr's French stereotype:  pure gold.

The Importance of Being Earnest -- Arts Club

Story in 2 sentences: Jack Worthing pretends to be his brother, Ernest, when partying in the city, and finds love. His friend Algernon pretends to be Ernest when partying in the country, and also finds love.

People who should see this show:
People who enjoy light comedy.

Gays who enjoy looking for hidden meaning, but don't want to work too hard at it.

Well, we knew we were in for a treat when the woman across the aisle from us pulled out a glass, some ice and a mini-bottle of scotch from her oversized handbag, and poured her husband a drink before fixing one for herself. We judged her, though we would have judged her less if she had offered us a drink as well.

The worst part about seeing a play in Vancouver is the pre-show commercial, and the Arts Club is horrible for it. Every performance, the same officious guy (reminds me of a former boss) comes out, thanks the sponsors and then acts surprised when some idiot starts them all clapping. No thank you. I turn commercials off at home; I refuse to applaud for one when I'm at a show.

I read the director's notes. I shouldn't; it generally sets my teeth on edge. David Mackay's did, this time by denying any homosexual (he says 'uranian' -- he's very educated) undercurrents in the play. OF COURSE there are homosexual undercurrents.

1. Bunburying -- leading a double life

2. A rakish confirmed bachelor

3. An incorrigible brother who dies in Paris

4. Algernon's obsession with cucumbers

5. THE GUY IN THE DRESS whom you cast as Algernon's Aunt Augusta, Mr. Mackay.

After the silent prequel scene, (a bit of unnecessary hocus-pocus, no doubt trying to get us in the mood for melodrama), the curtain rose on a disappointing set. Amir Ofek obviously didn't want to be stuck with Downton Abbey-like drawing rooms and gardens, so he, of course, treated us to a giant top hat and mirror, followed by a sort-of garden, and finally a pile of suitcases. Imaginative? Possibly, although I wasn't really excited by it -- seemed sort of half-assed Alice in Wonderland -- but definitely detrimental to the blocking. Rather than people sitting around having tea, Mackay had them standing in a line talking to one another. To allow us to concentrate on the words, no doubt. Bah.

The performances ranged from pretty good to really good.

Ryan Beil, as Jack Worthing, was spot-on. He really was made for intelligent comedy. His counterpoint, Charlie Gallant, was less so. He played the foppish Algernon with too much sincerity in the first half, though he warmed up after intermission. Amber Lewis, as Gwendolen, was solid, but the real star of the young lovers was Ella Simon as Cecily Cardew. I was prepared to hate her; after the first two lines, her accent had already ranged through half of northern Europe, then paused in southern California. However, she won me over with her innocent comic timing -- sincerity fit her part perfectly.

Of the smaller roles, Deborah Williams's Miss Prism was the standout. Her flawless timing, perfect voice and brilliant physicalization made it difficult to take my eyes off her. I found myself wishing she were in more scenes. Allan Zinyk as Lady Bracknell was a bit too restrained for my taste, especially in comparison, and Simon Bradbury's Reverand Chausible and Allan Gray's Lane/Merriman were both cases of actors working really hard to make small parts memorable. They sort of succeeded, but not in a good way.

It was a good time. Plays until April 15th.

Some Highlights:

Lewis and Simon's oh-so-polite catfighting over tea: the best written scene in the piece, played perfectly.
Beil and Gallant's muffin fight: genius.

Williams's rapturing over her handbag: creepily hilarious.

The drunk lady who finished off Ryan Beil's last line for him.

Ignorance -- Old Trout Puppet Workshop

Story in two sentences:

Cavemen were depressed. Modern humans are depressed.

People who should see this show:
Deaf people who can't lip-read
Non-English speakers who can't hear high pitches
Stoned college students with intellectual pretensions


To be fair, I did get roped into watching this show. A friend had to see a professional show for school (and bring the ticket stub and program back as proof). So we hunted until we found a cheap one that was fairly close to us.

But I do have a soft spot for puppets of all types. One of the best shows I have seen to this day is a puppet show, and who doesn't like Avenue Q? I get a little worried when puppeteers consider themselves artistes, though, so was feeling a bit worried. The fact that few enough tickets had sold that we were shifted from our fairly bad seats (with easy access to an exit for our patented daring escape moves) to fairly good seats (exit only accessible by walking across the stage), coupled with a notice that there would be no intermission in the 75-minute show.

"It might be so bad that we can laugh our ways through it," offered our friend weakly. I glared at him.

As the lights went down and a sad-looking puppet started chasing a balloon before killing himself, our friend started laughing and we all started texting each other.

Technically, both in the sense of technique and technology, it was actually pretty good. The puppets were pretty cool (except the sad men -- they were creepy without being interesting), the puppetry was well-executed, and the projections on the wall of the cave (ugh) were kinda cool. Artistically, it was horrible.

Well, maybe I mean "intellectually." The premise of the show was that humans cannot be happy because we always want more, and that this congenital misery began when our ancestors first gained the capacity to imagine that which was not. I take issue with this premise. First of all, because it is incorrect, and secondly because it allows people to say "it's all part of being human, so we can't help it" and never actually work on the real problems, be they individual or societal.

But more than that, it is the sort of drivel that comes from taking a single philosophy course to satisfy the requirements of your theatre arts diploma, then forgetting about it for twenty years, or going on a few dates with a philosophy major in college, and never bothering to actually think your way through the information that was presented to you. Drives me crazy.

The set was ok, the costumes were not good (long johns are an invitation to visible ass-crack sweat), and the sound was inoffensive.

Don't go. You can't anyway, I think I saw it on closing night.

Some highlights:
Many of the puppets really were good, particularly the cavemen.
Watching a puppet parallel park (although the angst with which he reacted to his own anger mitigated my delight).
Ummm. . . that may be it.

Henry V -- Bard on the Beach

Story in 2 sentences:
Hal is sick of partying, so he conquers France. He's really good at it.

People who should see this show:
Everyone. Get off the computer and get to it right now.

At last: a show I knew well enough not to have to read up on beforehand. Henry V, England's greatest king (I like his son better), and one of Shakespeare's favourite historical subjects. The play comes smack in the middle of the histories, and was written just in the middle of Shakespeare's career. Rousing speeches, well-written characters and lots of action, against a backdrop that Elizabethans must have enjoyed ("We beat the French").

I loved it. Even though when I think about it, I might actually be on the side of the French (next on my summer reading list: Henry V, War Criminal? by John Sutherland and Cedric Watts), I was totally rooting for Henry.

I loved it so much that I didn't mind waiting for hours ahead of time. Even the commercial before the show was kinda fun. What a difference good direction makes. Meg Roe's staging was flawless.

I must admit, we went about it the wrong way. We should have seen Falstaff first, as probably everyone else is going to do. There were a few scenes that we knew would have been more powerful if we'd seen the back story more recently, rather than just vaguely remembering it. But they were still emotionally satisfying, and I'm hard-pressed to see how I could have enjoyed the show more.

The play is narrated throughout, much more so than any of Shakespeare's other plays (according to Wikipedia, anyway). Collen Wheeler's Chorus achieves admirably the very difficult task of making me use my imagination during summer vacation as she instructs my mind to picture vast sets and cast of thousands before me. Her commanding presence, combined with Pam Johnson's simple and effective set, and the brilliantly choreographed battle scenes (thank you choreographer Rob Kitsos and fight director Nicholas Harrison) made me always willing to believe that the battle had just occured in front of my eyes.

All the performances were great, but most important in this one is obviously Henry's; he has to carry the show. Alessandro Juliani did a brilliant job. One slight problem I have had with other Henrys is knowing that he has been, as prince Hal, a party boy for his whole life, but that as soon as his father dies he suddenly becomes the serious king who conquers France. Juliani's performance maintains Henry's youthful demeanor; we see the change starting during the play itself, but the transformation is only fully realized at the end of the play. I enjoy that. His rousing speeches are not the studied rhetoric I've seen before; they are impassioned pleas made by a guy who used to party with the commoners.

As we left the tent, we thought pityingly of the poor suckers at the mainstage, stuck watching Antony and Cleopatra for another half-hour. If I had it to do over again, I would have skipped it entirely in order to see Henry V twice.

Absolutely see it. I'll go with you. Plays until September 24.

Some Highlights:
Kevin McNulty's history lesson as the Archbishop of Canterbury: the perfect way to begin the show, he made the most boring part of the piece hilarious.
Rob Kitsos and Nicholas Harrison's battle and marching scenes: pure brilliance. Normally I put fight-dances in the same category as dream ballets -- embarrassing and best ignored completely. These were amazing, and actually heightened the drama of the piece.
Josef Gustafson: totally held his own with the adults on the stage. Really well done.
Amber Lewis and Kayla Doerksen's scenes: very funny.

Antony and Cleopatra -- Bard on the Beach

Story in 2 sentences:
Octavius Caesar takes advantage of Mark Antony's midlife crisis. Cleopatra does too, but in a different way and with less long-term success.

People who should see this show:
People who don't think you should mess with Shakespeare.
People who like over-enunciated words that are disconnected from any meaning.
People with nothing better to do.


We worried a bit before the show. Would we get there on time? Would we get good seats? Would Haig Sutherland be in it? We couldn't answer the first two questions, but the last required only a few clicks of the mouse: yes, Haig Sutherland would be in it. Crap.

We tried to be positive. Maybe he would interpret this part differently. Maybe he would not have as much stage time this year. Maybe he wouldn't ruin the show. But in our hearts, we knew it was going to be a long night.

Made even longer by Bard on the Beach's insistence on sticking with their "first-come-first-served-put-your-name-on-a-chair-to-reserve-it" system. Seriously, just have assigned seating or not.

This system makes the lineup interminable, and generally in the middle of the sun. Neither Hubby nor I enjoy lines or sunshine, so we sat in the shade and judged audience members as we waited. Judging people is definitely something we enjoy. We pointed out to each other who hated Shakespeare but was being dragged there, who hated Shakespeare but pretended not to, who would be nodding along sagely with the actors, and who had bad hair.

At last the lineup began to move, and eventually we joined it. Our seats were fine. Back row, centre -- the back row is still really close to the stage. We then went to get some coffee (Hubby is one of those people who gets dragged there, and needs a little help to get through the evening). The harried volunteers at the concession stand were running about, brows creased as they counted out change, looking for work to do. An enjoyable prelude to the evening.

We milled about for a while, then went back to our seats. The guy came out to do the commercial (grr), everyone applauded (except me -- I don't enjoy commercials) and the show began.

Apparently, there is a standard interpretation of Antony and Cleopatra: sensual, feminine Egypt represents one part of Marc Antony's personality, and austere, masculine Rome the other. Certainly a valid interpretation, however boring it may be. Possibly it was not boring when it was first interpreted that way. Very boring now, particularly when no other intellectual work goes into the production, and the creative team instead concentrates all their energy to emphasizing the stereotypes.

This was a standard production. Standard set (the best part was gazing through the hole in the tent at the mountains when Haig Sutherland started talking), Standard costuming (with the exception of a few of Cleopatra's accessories), standard direction, and generally standard acting. It was sort of like watching an Olivier movie, without the Olivier.

Antony and Cleopatra was one of Shakepeare's later plays, and disregards the rules of unity; action occurs in Egypt and Rome, it spans quite a long time, and there's a lot goin on. Fine, I don't care much for rules, but without careful direction it makes for a busy play. Scott Bellis wasn't all that careful. While the play itself converges to a unified story, his direction did not. To the last scene it was disjointed.

The performances, as I said, were standard. Haig Sutherland, as Octavius Caesar, over-enunciated every word in a quizzical voice as though he were stoned. Sort of like a confused Charlie Brown's teacher. Jennifer Lines, as Cleopatra, was excellent. She played both the comedy and tragedy of the role to perfection, but couldn't save the show. Andrew Wheeler as Mark Antony was fine. Unfortunately, the stereotyped standard interpretation made most of the smaller parts quite forgettable: John Murphy's cartoonish Alexas stands out, but not for good reasons; Shawn MacDonald's messenger was funny.

Hubby and I discussed it on our way home. Next year we'll look at the casting before we buy tickets.

See the show if you must, but I wouldn't if I were you. Plays until September 24.

Some Highlights:
Knowing that the rest of the Bard shows are going to be better than this one.
Jennifer Lines' scenes with Shawn MacDonald: both are good, but the second was the funner.
Jennifer Lines' Cleopatra: she's great.
The sea-battle scenes were kinda cool.

Around the World in 80 Days -- Gateway Theatre

Story in 2 Sentences:
Phileas Fogg goes around the world in 80 days. Wow.

People who should see this show:
The employees of the theatre. Cause they have to.



There was just nothing good about it. At all. The story seems like it could produce something worth seeing, but it never did. It was a series of uninteresting anecdotes, bad slapstick, and uninspired dialogue made difficult to understand by bad accents. Parnelli Parnes, playing Passepartout, certainly acted his heart out, but it was to no avail. I have been in his shoes, acting my heart out in what I knew in the depths of my soul was a horrible, horrible show, and I cannot blame him at all for what I saw. Nor can I blame Ted Cole, playing Fogg, who, it seemed, was directed by Simon Johnston to never show any emotion. Possibly this made him an amusing character to read about in the book. Certainly it made the production incredibly boring. I do, however, blame Keith Martin Gordey for his horrible slapstick, horrible accents and horrible characterization as Detective Fix and other characters.

We wanted to leave about 3 seconds into it, but there were people blocking our way. We held out until intermission (at least there was an intermission -- we'd wanted to walk out of Drowning Girls the previous month, but were stuck in the back row with no escape possible outside of running across the water-covered stage), grabbed our things, headed to the door -- and ran into an associate of hubby's, who has something to do with the production. We cheerfully lied and avoided eye contact, then made excuses about going to the bathroom and ran out of the theatre, never to return.

Seriously, never. We got season tickets as an experiment, and understand now what a mistake that was. The Gateway is not a good theatre. It just seems that it's the only thing going in on Richmond.

Some Highlights:
The trick with the elephant (although it was ruined immediately by a fart joke).
My daring escape at intermission.