The Beaux Stratagem: a non-stop laugh fest

Stratford Festival
Festival Theatre
Written by George Farquhar
Directed by Antoni Cimolino
Approximate running time: 2 hours and 36 minutes (with one 15 minute interval)
August 15-September 20
Toll-free: 1.800.567.1600
519.273.1600

STRATFORD – After opening the season on such a magnificently tragic note with Colm Feore’sKing Lear, it seems only fitting to debut the last show for 2014 featuring the same splendid actor showcasing his considerable comic skills in a theatrical laugh fest.

That’s exactly what happened Friday night with the opening of George Farquhar’s feast of chuckles and belly laughs, The Beaux’ Stratagem, one of the last great Restoration comedies and an endlessly witty satire that playfully pokes fun at all classes of society but with a sense of gentility and almost kindness.

For those unable to figure out the basic plot in the brief moments between the cascades of rapid-fire dialogue, pratfalls, stereotypical drunken husbands and some wildly outrageous sight gags, here it is in the proverbial nutshell:

Archer (Colm Feore) and Aimwell (Mike Shara), two fashionable young 18th Century gents posing as servant and master, have fallen on hard times. They plan to travel through small towns, entrap young heiresses, take their money and quickly move on. But there is a single but plot-altering snag in the first stop they make.

In the first town on their nefarious journey, Lichfield, they target Dorinda (Bethany Jillard) but as fate as would have it, Aimwell falls in love with her, dismaying Archer, who has his eyes on the wealthy Mrs. Sullen (Lucy Peacock).

The storyline, top heavy with genuinely funny interplay between all cast members and with its comic twists and turns, almost seems secondary to the company’s masterful performances. Director Antoni Cimolino’s pacing has the production’s two hours and 36 minutes seeming more like an hour of non-stop brilliant silliness and hilarity.

You leave starved for more.

With his legs sharply shooting out into space from the effects of the powerful ale selected by the chatty but suspicious landlord Will Boniface (Robert King), Shara brings down the house with his mastery of physical and verbal humour.

Feore, fresh from his heart-wrenching portrayal of Lear, shows he’s no slouch when it comes to broad and more subtle comedy, chewing up and spitting out his dialogue at an earth shattering speed. Peacock, unhappy in love, is delightful as she jousts with her oft-time drunken disinterested hubbie, Squire Sullen, brought to life by the wonderful Scott Wentworth.

Yet, in spite of the first rate work from the aforementioned leads, the play’s hands-down scene stealer is clearly the multi-talented Martha Henry, whose sword wielding Lady Bountiful is simply brilliant and guaranteed to lighten up even the most sombre of audience members. It is a character to remember well past the evening’s end.

To prove that even secondary characters can grab their share of the guffaws, Gordon S. Miller as the annoyingly ever-present Scrub turns the simple act of a cowardly retreat into an art, complete with an awe-inspiring leap from the floor into a bed, wrapping himself like a cocoon with one swift grab at the bed linen.

This was a magical night of comedy. Hats off to Cimolino and a picture perfect cast. This is how comedy is done properly.

5 out of 5 stars

Antony and Cleopatra

Antony and Cleopatra:  Marvelously complex Cleopatra carries tale of tragedy

Stratford Festival
Tom Patterson Theatre
Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Gary Griffin
Approximate running time: 2 hours and 50 minutes (with one 15 minute interval)
August 14-September 20
Toll-free: 1.800.567.1600
519.273.1600

STRATFORD – Equal parts tragedy, comedy, historical drama and social commentary, Antony and Cleopatra is arguably one of the most difficult Shakespearean works to label in a conclusive manner.

Yet one indisputable aspect of Stratford’s current production is that a genuine star has emerged from what is an excellent top-to-bottom company – Yanna McIntosh as a scintillating, seductive yet strangely heroic figure Cleopatra.

There is simply no trace of either McIntosh or director Gary Griffin being trapped by the traditional notion that the play is solely about the great general Mark Antony (Geraint Wyn Davies) tragically falling from grace into the arms of a nefarious Egyptian strumpet.

While a seductress, she is not a stereotypical villain.

McIntosh imbues her character with mesmerizing sensuality, coy playfulness mixed with regal power, grace of movement and even a measure of tragic heroism. Her Cleopatra is a full-bodied character – wonderfully provocative and enticing in her final love scene with Antony yet desperately isolated in her dying moments.

If there is a sense that the production may lack the necessary moments of passion at times or clouds some of the points Shakespeare was trying to make on a larger human scale, McIntosh’s performance leaves no doubt as to what an incredibly complex character Cleopatra was as a protagonist, not an antagonist.

Wyn Davies is her equal as Antony, boisterously rushing from one end of the intimate Tom Patterson stage to the other, seizing the moments of triumph with grandeur and majesty and then ultimately crashing to the ground in final despair, a man without love, country and his beloved Rome.

To say director Griffin keeps the production moving at a brisk pace may be a huge understatement, even though the play clocks in just under the three hour mark. There’s no question that the time allotment may in fact not be enough to properly address the number of political machinations, character interactions and grandiose battles envisioned by Shakespeare.

Yet, while not the perfect rendering, the cast is without fault. Ben Carlson is a delightful egomaniacal Octavius Caesar. Tom McCamus delivers yet again with Enobarbus, Antony’s closest ally and a man torn apart by his loyalty to his friend and his personal debate over abandoning him. And the always reliable Brian Tree as the rebellious Pompey.

With a minimalist approach to set design, an evocative array of costumes (particularly for some of Cleopatra’s attendants) and effective, yet not overwhelming sound effects, Antony and Cleopatra is largely a successful theatrical venture.

A complex work that may admittedly leave some still perplexed, the production offers audiences the chance to revel in delight, watching McIntosh astonishingly moving Cleopatra woo her tragic Roman lover to his tragic end.

4 out of 5 stars

Photo: Yanna McIntosh as Cleopatra and Geraint Wyn Davies as Mark Antony in Antony and Cleopatra by David Hou.

Hay Fever: Revels in artistic pretensions

Hay Fever
Written by Noel Coward
Directed by Alisa Palmer
June 19-October 11
Avon Theatre
Approximate running time: 2 hours and five minutes (with one 15-minute interval)
Contact: Toll-free: 1.800.567.1600
Local: 519.273.1600

Review by Geoff Dale

STRATFORD – When the curtain rose for the opening act of Noel Coward’s Hay Fever, it was obvious from the thunderous audience applause that Lucy Peacock might be sharing the spotlight for the remainder of the production.

Not necessarily with an actor, though the company was certainly up to the task, but rather to Douglas Paraschuk and his wonderfully cluttered set, with numerous art works strewn about the walls, knick-knacks littering the living space and all those carefully studied but untidy symbols of a well-to-do family steeped in their ridiculous bohemian artistic pretensions.

What a shambles but what a glorious way in which to introduce the truly eccentric Bliss family, their disorderly and high inappropriate of treating – or more to the point – mistreating their guests, their utter disdain for normalcy and convention and their complete lack of understanding of other seemingly normal folks that have the misfortune to spend time with this bizarre clan.

More of a cross between farce and a standard comedy of manners with a touch of theatre of the absurd, the three-act production takes place in the cavernous hall of the Bliss family home. Judith (Lucy Peacock), an on-again, off-action stage actress considering a theatrical return is all wild gesticulations, grandiose theatric statements and an equally odd desire to tirelessly flirt with young men.

Husband David (Kevin Bundy), a rather self-absorbed novelist and the creator of literary works not worth the paper on which his empty flowery phrases appear, like his wife simply doesn’t understand the norms of society – polite or otherwise.

Their culture-vulture son Simon’s (Tyrone Savage) greatest achievement appears to be sketching dreadful looking nudes, whilst lying about on the floor. Daughter Sorel (Ruby Joy) may be the most sensible one of the lot but judging by the standards set by the rest of the family, this is not saying much in her favour.

Entering into the foray are four guests – actually victims – invited individually by different family members for what appears to be an elaborate parlour game at their expense for the amusement of the hosts.

Sandy Tyrell (Gareth Potter), a young boxer and the attention of Judith’s theatric flirtations, is joined by Cynthia Dale’s wonderfully played socialite Myra Arundel; an innocent and confused flapper Jackie Coryton (Ijeoma Emesowum) and a stiffer-than-stiff diplomatist Richard Greatham (Sanjay Talwar).

Overseeing this motley crew is the ever-smoking, wisecracking working-class maid Clara (Sarah Orenstein) who, apparently because of class distinction, doesn’t deserve a last name. Without question, she symbolizes what sanity and common sense there is to find in this other-worldly household.

All cast members, particularly Peacock, Talwar and Potter, simply eat up their roles and, while it is in most cases a criticism, over-act to the max, gobbling up their juicy bits of Coward dialogue, spitting them out with relish at rather ear-piercing levels at times. Chaos in this particular world equals unabated laughter.

Dale does wonders with her meaty role, cast in a part that does not simply require glamour and a lot of posturing. No longer the play’s naïve flirty ingénue, she sinks her teeth into the character, shooting out witticisms and wise cracks at a rapid-fire place.

Peacock, once a well-respected operatic singer gets the chance once again to momentarily show off her still considerably impressive vocal prowess with her rendering of Oscar Straus’ Tout Paris m’a fait, ce soir, un accueil plein de gentillesse, sung with a strange mix of levity and authority.

While the play is still considered to be quintessentially English, many observers including the great Simon Fallow, say the inspiration actually came to Coward while visiting and staying with the actress Laurette Taylor, her husband Hartley Manners and their children in America.

Callow, writing for The Guardian in 2006, points out that their house parties were “notorious for the family’s eccentric behaviour, for the obscure and outlandish games to which the guests were subjected, and for the heady atmosphere of flirtation – much of which was imported wholesale into Hay Fever.”

Whatever the origins, the play is still loud, outrageous and, because pretentious behaviour never ceases to be a great subject to ridicule and laugh about, not the least bit dated.

Thanks to Douglas Paraschuk’s creative set design, it helps validate Coward’s belief that journeys can be taken by characters without having to frantically change scenes. The key here is one standout set and the work of a highly skilled cast, enabled by the sure hand of director Alisa Palmer.

The greatest pleasure audience members may derive from such a frenetically funny outing is that they, unlike the Bliss house guests, are not captive prisoners left to their own devices on how to escape. Laughter reigns supreme here, nabbing a solid four and half out of ***** stars.

This review also appeared online at Donald's Dish.

Alice Through the Looking Glass: Visually appealing but slightly hollow production

Alice Through The Looking Glass
Stratford Festival
Avon Theatre
By Lewis Carroll
Adapted for the stage by James Reaney
Directed by Jillian Keiley
Approximate running time: 2 hours and 15 minutes (with one 20 minute interval)
April 30-October 12
Toll-free: 1.800.567.1600
519.273.1600

STRATFORD – Perhaps it’s just the nature of the beast but the latest rendering of the magical riddle-laden Alice Through The Looking Glass comes off as both as a visually appealing but somewhat unfulfilling production.

Baffling at best, it certainly lays claim to some noteworthy achievements, most notably Jillian Keiley’s agreeably innovative direction, Danya Tekatch’s whimsical choreography and a handful of top flight performances including Brian Tree’s delightfully sarcastic Humpty Dumpty, Tom McCamus’ witty March Hare and Cynthia Dale beautifully over-the-top obsessive Red Queen.

Add to those theatrical ingredients, a sprinkling of clever musical numbers from Jonathan Monro and a handful of well-timed wonderful audience participatory elements highlighted by the airborne issuance of free jelly beans and you should have a winner.

Yet, while a magnificent sight for the eyes, sadly that is not the case. Outside of Dale’s marvelous Red Queen, the first act was often flat and tedious, seeming much longer than the one hour our watch informed us had passed by the interval. The quicker paced second act delivers the goods in more satisfactory fashion.

Newcomer Trish Lindstrom is agreeable as Alice, as she makes her initial journey through the looking glass into the strange new topsy-turvy world of odd characters, perplexing wordplay and the central symbol of the chess game, but with her stagey theatrical English accent and quirky almost lifeless hand movements, she’s very little more than that.

Her supporting cast fares better, beginning with the aforementioned Tree, McCamus and Dale. Ryan Wilkie is a memorably compassionate White Knight, Mike Nadajewski and Sanjay Talwar milk as many laughs as possible from the young audience members with their appropriately silly Tweedledee and Tweedledum and John Kirkpatrick handles his triple duties as Red Knight, Red King and Walrus with skill and charm.

There are plenty of grand and wondrous effects to keep even the most fidgety youngsters suitably entertained for more than two hours and all of them come off magically and without incident.

Even the most jaded will love the cascading bubbles, paper streamers and taking plants, animals and bugs and the clean-up of the remains of the late Humpty Dumpty with spatulas and over-sized frying pans is arguably the best scene in the production.

Yet beyond the dazzling visuals and Bretta Gerecke’s stellar designs, what else does Alice offer. One might expect considerably more attention being paid to the whimsical, often dark and complex work of Lewis Carroll, lovingly adapted for stage by James Reaney. Yet here, there’s a lot to see but little to think about.

While it is clearly a production more suited for children, Carroll’s sequel to Alice in Wonderlandbrims with challenging metaphors and symbolism focusing on the chess game with its central character the main pawn – as opposed to the first book’s theme of a card game. There’s potential for more on stage but it just doesn’t happen.

Even from a young girl’s perspective of life, there seems to be much room for exploration and Reaney’s clever adaptation, which premiered at Stratford in 1994, offers many avenues to embark on that kind of journey.

Perhaps too much to ask for but with such a rich bounty of jokes, riddles and thought-provoking word games, this production seems to be teasing us with the thought that there is more to be had from such an intriguing literary work.

Nonetheless the youngsters and plenty of adults will get the proverbial charge from the sights and sounds of the lively production and the actors, particularly Tree, seem to be having the time of their lives, so worth a look.

3 1/2  / 5 stars

This review also appeared online at Donald's Dish.

Photos: 1. Trish Lindström as Alice in Alice Through the Looking-Glass; 2. Cynthia Dale as the Red Queen in Alice Through the Looking-Glass. Photos by Cylla von Tiedemann.

A Midsummer's Night Dream: Great Fodder for Debate

A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Stratford Festival
Festival Theatre
Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Chris Abraham
Approximate running time: 2 hours and 46 minutes (with one 15 minute interval)
May 31-October 11
Toll-free: 1.800.567.1600
519.273.1600

Review by Geoff Dale

To be uncharacteristically personal about the latest version of Midsummer Night’s Dream – allow us to be blunt from the onset. This is a must-see production but for a wildly different reason other than just critical praise or even pure enjoyment.

This outrageously daring adaptation, directed with unashamed enthusiasm and genuine daring by Chris Abraham, has it all – good, bad and even ugly – particularly if you looking for a knock-down, drag ‘em out debate when the nearly three hour production has screamed its way to the glorious end.

At the close, as your humble scribe was briskly walking and trotting to retrieve the family car from the Festival lot, he overheard one exuberant couple – in complete agreement with one another – quite loudly and vigorously slamming the production for its basic set-up and most notably for its uniformly bad acting. The last comment, I might interject, is just plain wrong.

These excitable comments were overheard just moments after one learned gent inside the theatre noted that only an ensemble cast this talented could get away with treating a production like this in such a matter. So now, nearly 400 hundred years after the Bard’s death in 1616, the debate begins once again in earnest.

Just what about this particular production has some so up in arms, raging about its badness, while other sing the praises of a talented director and a gifted acting company successfully maneuvering the challenges of such a dicey risk-taking theatrical proposition. Isn’t that whatMidsummer Night’s Dream is all about? In fact, it and As You Like It, are always ripe for bold outings like this one.

Firstly, here are some of the chief and supposedly controversial ingredients. A play within the play, performed as a splashy (in later scenes, quite literally) wedding gift for a same-sex racially integrated couple. Reverse gender casting – Titania, played by the adventurous, Evan Buliung, Lysander in the hands of Tara Rosling and Puck, a wondrously mischievous Chick Reid, co-incidentally just the right size (Mickey Rooney would have been proud).

So with all of that firmly in place, one need not be surprised at the barrage of playful lesbian/ gay jokes, slapstick scenarios and risk-taking insinuations/double-entendres that will be hurled at the audience. Arguably, the timid and logically the more outspoken on the right-of centre-spectrum may take offence.

Well, take it with a grain of salt, lighten up and remember what the impishly sly Puck says:

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.

There is no question about the quantity of outright silliness in Abraham’s treatment but most of it works, at least superficially and certainly when it comes to generating guffaws from the audience. Yes, there were clearly far too many of those earlier alluded to water-splashing scenes, more frat house than purely Shakespearean but, with a little more restraint, even they were easily manageable.

Stephen Ouimette is effective as Bottom making the not-too-subtle ass of himself but starting off the proceedings as a backyard barbecue king was a vision better left to television hardware store advertisements. Perhaps worth a chuckle but not much more.

Jonathon Goad was an impressive Oberon, King of the Fairies, even managing to squeeze out a couple of ad-libs(?) – ‘How are those abs doing’ and Scott Wentworth as Theseus – well, does anyone out there seriously remember him giving a bad performance. Really?

The only scene that falls flat and is truly embarrassingly unfunny and terminally long is the wedding cake ceremony that quickly degenerates into a food fight that would make Jerry Springer wince with pain and have either Moe, Curly, Larry or Shemp of the terribly underappreciated Three Stooges rushing onstage with notes outlining how to do it right – with precise timing, proper facial appreciations and, of course, a suitably appalled regal grand dame.

Still there are enough other delights like onstage musician Thomas Ryder Payne and a suitably dreamy set to keep the production going at a nice pace. Besides, there are all those ample opportunities for plenty of heated and likely unresolved after-production discussions.

But remember it’s all a dream and when were they ever supposed to be guided by stringent rules and regulations. A night to remember for oh so many reasons.

3 1/2 stars out of 5

This review also appeared online at Donald's Dish.

Photo: Stephen Ouimette in the role of Bottom.
Photography by Don Dixon with digital art from Krista Dodson.

Mother Courage and Her Children: The Festival's Sleeper Hit

Mother Courage and Her Children
Stratford Festival
By Bertolt Brecht
Directed by Martha Henry
May 30-September 21
Festival Theatre
Approximate running time: 2 hours, 41 minutes (with one 15 interval)
1.800.567.1600
519.273.1600

If the mere mention of the name Bertolt Brecht or the phrase anti-war conjures up visions of a sombre night at the Festival, be not afraid of venturing into the Tom Patterson Theatre for a look of Martha Henry’s surprisingly buoyant and beautifully realized Mother Courage and Her Children.

While still very much true to the playwright’s intent – fired by his intense hatred of the German Nazi regime of his time, from which he found exile in several European countries – the work under director Henry re-discovers and exploits a great deal of its innate humour from a variety of sources – roaming minstrels, a touch of pre-performance mingling a la the Swinging Sixties with audience members and heart-felt, humanistic performances from the acting company.

Rather than create a work that plays out during the Second World War, Brecht set the play in Europe during the Thirty Years’ War (1618-48), a bloody conflict initially waged by Catholic and Protestant states over purely religious interests.

Mother Courage (a beautifully honest portrayal by Seana McKenna) is a tireless canteen woman, pulling her cart throughout war-ravaged Europe, aided by her three children – E.B. Smith’s sturdy Ellif, Carmen Grant’s mute Kattrin and Antoine Yared’s bookish, timid and oddly-named Swiss Cheese.

It’s an odd way of making a living, particularly in light of the fact Mother Courage makes no distinction over which army she does business with, alternately changing flags on her creaky vehicle and ultimately making a profit from the horrors of the seemingly endless war. At least superficially, she appears unmoved by the conflict, choosing neither side over her business interests.

McKenna is simply magnificent in the role – at one moment an earthy hard-bitten no nonsense businesswomen out to make ends meet for herself and her brood but yet, particularly in the revealing second act, displaying flashes of recognizing, almost recoiling at the brutality she either experiences or learns from second- hand sources. Death becomes considerably more personal as the play moves forward.

Smith, Grant and Yared are solid and effective in their key roles – offering more than simple one-dimensional characterizations, in effect, with their mother, underscoring the humanity of Brecht’s work.

The first act, offering considerably more of a humorous backdrop, also features a tidy selection of musical entries, under the guidance of musical director Franklin Brasz and a delightful sprightly band of instrumentalists/vocalists that both lighten the mood and offer a clever complement to the playwright’s words.

Supporting characters like Geraint Wyn Davies’ incurably ‘randy’ cook and Ben Carlson’s oft time confused chaplain are top-notch, while the regal vocal stylings of Stephen Russell as the stern regimental clerk adding the perfunctory sense of the all-pervasive military dictating the lives of all who come under its control.

For Henry, this is a triumph over what could have conceivably turned very much into a one-note production with simple musical interludes. Such is not the case. The blend of drama, tragedy, with splashes of humour is superbly handled, with the second act, particularly the poignant closing moments, evolving into an uncompromising visual poem that is truly moving.

Unquestionably one of the greatest anti-war plays ever written; this production bristles with life even if only barely visible amidst the rising toll of death and social disintegration. Mother Courage and Her Children may well be and quite frankly deserves to be the sleeper hit of the Stratford Festival 2014 season.

5 stars

Photo. Fom left to right: Seana McKenna, Geraint Wyn Davies and Ben Carlson. Photography by Don Dixon with digital art by Krista Dodson.

This review also appeared online at Donald's Dish.

Man of LaMancha: Quixote still dreaming the impossible dream

Man of La Mancha
Stratford Festival
Written by Dale Wasserman
Music by Mitch Leigh
Lyrics by Joe Darion
Directed by Robert McQueen
Music direction by Franklin Brasz
May 29-October 11
Avon Theatre
Approximate running time: 2 hours and 25 minutes (with one 15-minute interval)
Contact – 1-900-567-1600

Review by Geoff Dale

STRATFORD – Dale Wasserman’s unabashed ode to optimism Man of La Mancha doesn’t just pose challenges to producers, directors and their casts but also to the audience and, in this case, the reviewer.

Why – because the grandiose musical operates on two distinctly different levels, ultimately leaving one to rely on his or her imagination to determine whether the end result was a huge success or rather an enjoyable night at the theatre comprised of rousing numbers, boundlessly athletic choreography and most importantly, the play’s signature tune The Impossible Dream(The Quest) actually moving you and warranting several reprises.

Consider what Wasserman once said and that could help you draw your own conclusions:

 “To me the most interesting aspect of the success of Man of La Mancha is the fact that it plows squarely upstream against the prevailing current of philosophy in the theater. That current is best identified by its catch-labels–Theater of the Absurd, Black Comedy, the Theater of Cruelty–which is to say the theater of alienation, of moral anarchy and despair.

“To the practitioners of those philosophies Man of La Mancha must seem hopelessly naive in its espousal of illusion as man’s strongest spiritual need, the most meaningful function of his imagination. But I’ve no unhappiness about that. “Facts are the enemy of truth,” says Cervantes-Don Quixote. And that is precisely what I felt and meant.”

While obviously open for debate, it seems fair to say that for the most part director Robert McQueen has captured much of what the playwright had in mind. The current version, with its wildly imaginative yet somewhat cluttered set design by Douglas Paraschuk and a powerful and provocative lead performance from Tom Rooney, is indeed very pleasing robust theatre. The opening night crowd certainly welcomed it with thunderous rounds of applause after virtually every number.

Rooney, a strong vocalist with a keen understanding of the character, deals nicely with the duality of the man – real and imagined. It’s a tight-rope walk that he pulls off with nary a slip. Consider once again the challenge involved.

On the one hand is Miguel de Cervantes, an elderly playwright, poet and tax collector precariously drifting in and out of moments of clarity and lunacy who is unceremoniously tossed into a Seville dungeon for a supposed offence against the Catholic Church.

Awaiting the Inquisition’s kangaroo court, he first must endure a raucous prisoner-led trial. His defense is a fanciful play based on the exploits – an unfinished manuscript – focusing on the ‘mad’ knight Don Quixote and his faithful manservant Sancho Panza (Steve Ross), a big puppy dog of a man.

Quixote is a valiant knight-errant, noble champion and fearless defender of those wronged souls. Along the way his flights of fancy bring him into the realm of down-on-her-luck prostitute Aldonza (Robin Hutton) who, in his mind’s eye, becomes the virtuous woman of all men’s dreams, Dulcinea.

Both Ross and Hutton are key components of a solid company highlighted by Shane Carty’s thoughtful innkeeper, Shawn Wright’s delightful triple offering as Duke, Dr. Carrasco and the fearful Enchanter and Stephen Patterson’s Barber, a welcome – if only momentary – slice of comic relief, floating in the dungeon’s sea of misery.

Mitch Leigh and Joe Carion’s music, while deftly presented by music director Franklin Brasz, comes down to being a matter of taste. Some will doubtless relish the positivity of the dream-like The Impossible Dream and the lilting beauty of Dulcinea. Others could envision the numerous reprises of The Quest as unnecessarily ponderous. Let us be blunt – we get it already. Then there’s the overly cute, cloying I Like Him – enough said.

For your humble scribe, more attention paid to the gloriously melodic and technically proficient stylings of on-stage Flamenco/classical guitarist Kevin Ramessar would have been most welcome, possibly accompanied by a quartet of violinists, violists and cellists for a much appreciated intrusion of musical subtlety.

The Impossible Dream, you might say, but then one doesn’t have to be a Miguel de Cervantes to envision such possibilities.

A major plus for this version is that it is in no way remotely similar to the disastrous, disjointed and thoroughly unlikable 1972 cinematic mess starring a non-singing Peter O’Toole, the gorgeous but strangely-out-of-place Sophia Loren and the terribly miscast funnyman James Coco.

Thankfully, even with some of those aforementioned minor quibbles, McQueen, inventive set designer Paraschuk and company, both on and off-stage, offer up quality entertainment. It is a tad on the noisily rambunctious side at times but still a quest worth undertaking.

4 stars out of 5

This review also appeared online at Donald’s Dish.

Photos: 1. From left: Steve Ross, Robin Hutton, Tom Rooney. Photography by Don Dixon and David Hou; Digital Artist: Krista Dodson. 2. Robin Hutton as Aldonza in Man of La Mancha. Photo by Michael Cooper.

King John: Where burlesque and drama go hand-in-hand

King John
Stratford Festival
Tom Patterson Theatre
Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Tim Carroll
Approximate running time: 2 hours and 56 minutes (with one 15 minute interval)
May 28-September 20
Toll-free: 1.800.567.1600
519.273.1600

Review by Geoff Dale 

STRATFORD – King John may be one of Shakespeare’s lesser produced works in recent memory but that hasn’t stopped the Festival from staging it several times over the years – at last count four.

Now it’s Tony-nominated director Tim Carroll’s turn to try his luck with the troubling play and, while there are noticeable shortfalls, the overall sense is that it is an imaginative candle-lit effort highlighted by a number of thought-provoking characterizations, not the least of which is Tom McCamus’ startling interpretation of regal off-handedness mixed with grandiose fits of rage and madness.

 

As with all the Bard’s historic efforts there are generous portions of pure fantasy, much needed for a period of British history that appears to be rather confusing and often badly misunderstood by historians of considerable reputation.

One of the most welcome fictional additions is the character of Philip Faulconbridge, otherwise known throughout as the Bastard, reportedly an illegitimate son of Richard the Lionhearted.

Appointed in the early going by John as an officer in his army, the Bastard affords the immensely versatile Graham Abbey much opportunity to play about with the role in an almost burlesque fashion, bellowing, threatening and assaulting his foes both with cutting verbiage and swordplay.

One highlight is the glorious moment Philip matter-of-factly tosses the decapitated bloody heady of a foe into the lap of an unsuspecting but most likely delighted audience member. Howls of approval immediately arise from the crowd.

Now enjoying his second year in the Festival Company Noah Jalava gives a strong and at times commanding and self-assured performance as Arthur, the King’s nephew and apparent heir to the throne. With youthful enthusiasm and an obvious understanding of his role, he clearly provides one of the much-anticipated tragic elements of any Shakespearean production.

As is always the case, the playwright takes great liberties with historic fact, conveniently replacing some to suit his purpose – whether that be to create a foil for the leading character or simply to enliven the action when it lags. To the latter point, that does occur sporadically in both the opening and closing acts.

The simple reality is that fiction more often than not captures greater attention and Carroll does a fine job of accentuating these tastier little bits of John’s life. For example, while it is widely known that John was not actually poisoned by a monk at Swinstead, it’s fair to say this is far more theatrically pleasing than the fact that he actually died of dysentery while on a campaign.

While there is considerably less grandeur than the great works like King Lear and Hamlet, there is still an abundance of wonderful characters with which to play, oft times with wild literary abandon and unchecked poetic license.

Sean McKenna has a veritable field day with Constance, Arthur’s mother – a complex passionate figure of maternal majesty, fiery frenzy and ultimately lonely despair. Her speeches often ring more powerfully than her male counterparts:

“Thou shalt be punish’d for thus frighting me:
For I am sick, and capable of fears;
Oppressed with wrongs, and therefore full of fears.
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears;
And though thou now confess thou didst but jest
With my vexed spirits, I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.”

The always reliable Brian Tree is wonderful as the trouble making papal legate, Cardinal Pandulph, the man who excommunicates John but ultimately accepts the regal repentance. Wayne Best delivers John’s chamberlain Hubert as a troubled man beset with personal conflicts while Patricia Collins shows Eleanor of Aquitaine as a strong-willed woman of self-determination.

In the end Carroll, forgoing elaborate set designs and massive stage-cluttering battle scenes, leaves the fate of the production in McCamus’ hands as the oft times hilarious monarch who casts aside foes with the gentle flick of a TTFN wave, interspersed with uncontrolled bursts of sudden raucous, shrieking threats and gestures.

Often blatantly comic, McCamus brings John to life as a man with considerable human frailties, a monarch that one can easily see as having legions of both friends and foes alike. Clearly less majestic that some of Shakespeare’s kings; the character is nonetheless filled with the possibilities for explorations – both real and imagined.

What will always remain a mystery is why Shakespeare never refers, even casually, to John’s signing of the Magna Carta in June 2015. A small quibble perhaps but it is still one of several questions left unanswered by this curious but fascinating lesser-known production.

Powerful at times but likewise slowly moving, King John’s chief strength lies in its characterizations.

3 ½ stars

Photos: 1. Tom McCamus (centre, left) as King John and Brian Tree as Cardinal Pandulph with members of the company in King John; 2. Seana McKenna as Constance in King John. Photos by David Hou This review also appeared online at Donald's Dish.