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.