Overlap bridges languages and critiques society

by Thomas MacDougall

Satellite théâtre’s Overlap in the Black Box Theatre for NotaBle Acts. Photo credit: Matt Carter

NotaBle Acts’ second Mainstage show of 2019 comes from the city of Moncton. Overlap was written by Céleste Godin, directed by Marc-André Charron, and produced by Satellite théâtre.

At a party spiraling into the night, a group of friends discuss the foibles of their city, its interconnected nature, and the harsh lines of separation between populations and their language. While that is technically the premise, Overlap is embodied by a showman’s personality. It’s a physical theatre piece, with dynamic movement and alluring performer choices recited entirely in French that dips into multiple Acadian dialects and, occasionally, English.

The stage is lit by designer Claire Seyller with a frame of spotlights that ignite and fade as if they were the sparking bulbs on a Broadway marquis. The actors are dressed in sleek black formal attire with accents of red. They interact with the audience like the hosts of a regal casino event. This personality is essential to the show, as much of the dialogue boils down to gripes and paradoxes about their Moncton home. If it weren’t for the tenacity of performance, it would seem like the writer was complaining with no solution.

Yet the solution ends up being the introspection. These figures are drunken partygoers and their critiques of society are framed as questions with no hope of answers, systemic or personal. To solve their problems, they would need to leave the town they so dearly love. Despite the irony of them now performing the show in Fredericton, the message has clearly transcended their region and allows all audiences to be introspective toward their own homes and cultures.

Je suis désoleé. Je ne comprends pas le Français. Credit is due to the company for preparing English surtitles to accompany their show. Even in this bilingual province, it would be a miracle to see the same courtesy extended by an Anglophone show. Moreover, as the intersection between languages, dialects, and culture is a focal point of the performance, the surtitles’ purpose transcends accessibility or pandering. Staying true to its diverse NB audience, Overlap puts in a little extra effort.

Though Overlap features some of the best uses of the Black Box’s projections, having your surtitles displayed far above the action creates a disconnect, and even experience-breaking whiplash. Though one could very likely construe the performers’ meaning from tone and expression alone, Godin’s writing is clever enough (even translated) to warrant a peak upwards for full context.

I struggle with how much of the dialogue is spoken by the entire cast simultaneously. The initial idea for the show described by Charron was to frame Moncton as the Greek concept of “The City.” So one could assume these ‘all together now’ moments are to replicate the methods of the Greek Chorus. However, this removes much of the distinguishing features of each of the performers. Though the show itself has a clear identity and goal, characters with defined characteristics and perspectives on the issues tackled, as in Socratic Dialogue, would certainly help add conflict to a show that perpetually seeks to have us ‘all on the same page’.

Hurdling over the language barrier, Overlap is an easily accessible show with enough charm and camaraderie to make any audience snap to attention. The best love letters in showbiz are the critical ones. I really hope Moncton was listening and is proud of their stars.

NotaBle Acts’ Theatre Festival and Satellite théâtre’s Overlap ran July 26 to 27, 2019 in St. Thomas University’s Black Box Theatre.

Fruit Machine blends our dark past with emotional physical theatre

by Thomas MacDougall

Reading the news in Fruit Machine. Photo credit: Matt Carter

NotaBle Acts kicked off this summer’s festival with Fruit Machine, a simultaneously personal and widely encompassing physical theatre production that brings to light LGBTQ+ representation in Canada’s dark and forgotten history. The show is directed by Alex Rioux, but created and brought to life by the collaborative efforts of Rioux, Samuel Crowell and Solo Chicken Productions’ coop. This is the fourth edition of Fruit Machine, the first of which had its debut in 2018 at Saint John’s Perspectives Festival. Since then, the show has been refined with each new performer taking on the roles.

Using ‘found text’, Fruit Machine displays the harsh mistreatment of homosexuals by the RCMP and Canadian Military during the 1950s and 60s. Most of the lines spoken by the five actors are the direct quotations of an intolerant government or the testimonies of soldiers and officers who’ve had their lives damaged by this “decade long witch hunt.”

Additionally, much of the found text comes from within the actors. It is the emotional performances, the quivering dance that communicates the pain and originality of the piece. These figures hide, lie, force relationships out of fear and wrestle with themselves, or worse.

First, there is something to be said about physical theatre and how it forms a story. In Fruit Machine’s case, the approach was less ‘ink and keys’, more ‘feeling and evolution’. The piece was written using a process called “devising.” Given the focus on the physical space, and full use of the Black Box Theatre, this method is appropriate for the piece. The genre could be, at first, hard to follow for the inexperienced, but it finds its groove soon. Still, the art of storytelling holds true, and an emotional through line emerges in the performances of the actors, particularly Dustin Forbes.

It is unclear if Forbes or any of his cast mates are supposed to be playing the same characters throughout, but it is clear that it does not matter. Nor does it need to. Had the piece decided to give Forbes the name “Joe Fresh,” with typical story subplots and quirks, the grand scale of the national injustice would have been lost. It is imagery and emotion; it’ll hit you hard with either memory or empathy, or it’s just not your thing. The arc of the story is a collective tale, a shared traumatic experience that must be acknowledged.

Because the actors are exclusively accompanied by titillating light and audio cues (Chris Saad), it does make the show feel more like a showcase of grander moments. While memorable in their own right, these moments suffer from a lack of consistent transitions. For a show that is, in action, so fluid; when a scene ends, it does so by suddenly evaporating into an empty Black Box theatre.

However, some of those moments are pretty exciting: the soft spotlight adorning a Mountie as he relays the horrid statements of our government becomes a crimson glow cloaking him in our sinister national rouge; the actors physically struggle to discard their bruised pieces of fruit, because the sheer metaphor is far too strong to deny.

It is an intimate experience, coming directly from the heart. There is a clear goal and message to the piece; all it asks is that you listen and join them in recollection of a much darker time.

NotaBle Acts Theatre Festival and Solo Chicken Productions’ Fruit Machine ran July 23 to 25, 2019 in St. Thomas University’s Black Box Theatre.

 

 

Bard in the Barracks’ Dream is sweet in Odell Park

by Thomas MacDougall

“Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew’d thee once: / The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid / Will make or man or woman madly dote / Upon the next live creature that it sees.” Oberon (Alex Rioux) shows Puck (Rebekah Chassé) “this herb” in Bard in the Barracks’ A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Photo Credit: Matt Carter

This summer, Odell Park plays host to William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The production by Bard in the Barracks, directed by Len Falkenstein, celebrates the fourteenth season of Bard shows to be performed in our beautiful Fredericton exterior locales. This is the second time Midsummer has been chosen for performance in Odell, with the previous rendition occurring in 2009.

Known for its diverse ensemble of characters and multiple surreal plotlines, Midsummer tells the story of four would-be lovers, a bumbling band of mechanicals, and the fairy monarchy that lurks within the wood manipulating their passions in secret. Love is misplaced, a man becomes an ass, and in the truest form of Shakespearean comedy, all is well in conclusion as if it were all just a pleasant nightmare.

If you find yourself unfamiliar with the classic there is no better way to experience it than with a stroll through Odell, though, even the bravest should prepare for bugs, sun, rain, roots, and a bit of a walk between the six scenes. This certainly isn’t the Globe Theatre.

It isn’t hard to see why Odell was paired with this show again. The park offers a unique setting for the theatre experience, which fits no play better than Midsummer. This is best exemplified when trickster fairy Puck (Rebekah Chassé) emerges from a hollow tree to begin an unrestrained frolic through the unconventional terrain. The blocking ranges from creative and resourceful to “unfortunate tree placement.” Each time you choose a seat, choose wisely.

The show boasts an additional aesthetic that is established within an altered synopsis. Though none of the text has been noticeably changed, Falkenstein, costume designer Lynn Addleman, and the production team frame the city of Athens as a movie studio and the traditional “lords and ladies” cast as 50’s-era Hollywood actors.

Unfortunately, this set dressing fades away as the audience is led through the wood. While the lovers and mechanicals maintain their Hollywood attire, the Fairies (sans the leopard-printed Puck) have a seemingly more “prom” inspired-look that could have suited the setting better. Upon the show’s return to civilization, one expects to find Athens Studios and the film props to wholly return, but the nature of the delightful “Pyramus and Thisbe” finale is as it is traditionally: a satire of theatre, not cinema.

Lucas Gutierrez-Robert’s execution of the player-turned-donkey Bottom is deeply true to the play’s intent. His and the lovers’ performances are ripe with adorable moments of charm and gaffs almost as natural as the theatre space. It’s performances like this that ensure this play hits it target demographic. It’s no surprise there were children in the audience entranced by the colourful nature of the characters and the heart of the musical accompaniment (Hannah Zamora, Mackenzie Johnstone).

You start to feel the length of the show as night falls. Although the renditions of classic songs like Judy Garland’s “Good Morning” are cute and contextually appropriate, it could have been sped along, propping them up only during the intermission or walking segments.

Nevertheless, if you find yourself in Odell this summer, take a moment to rest your head and enjoy the sweet dreams of Bard in the Barracks.

Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, produced by Bard in the Barracks, opened on June 22and runs on alternating days until July 7 at 7:30pm in Odell Park.

Measure for Measure measures metre and #MeToo moment in sunny Barracks Square

by Thomas MacDougall

Escala (Tilly Jackson) and Angelo (Miguel Roy) spar in Bard in the Barracks’ production of Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure. Photo Credit: Matt Carter

This summer’s production of Measure for Measure, directed by John Ball and produced by Bard in the Barracks, celebrates the fourteenth anniversary of classic William Shakespeare shows to be displayed in Barrack’s Square in downtown Fredericton.

Prompted by apparent boredom, the Duke of Vienna (Liam Browne) elects to leave his duties to his deputy Angelo (Miguel Roy). Rife with power and a belief in puritanical governance, Angelo cracks down on the sexual promiscuity “plaguing” his town. Among the many jailed, trialed and sentenced, a young Claudio (Alex Fullerton) incites his sister and novice nun Isabella (Kira Chisholm) to plead with Angelo. In the play’s most memorable and controversial twist, Angelo offers Claudio’s freedom for a sinful night of pleasure with Isabella.

Measure is one of Shakespeare’s “problem plays” in that it raises more questions than it answers. Shakespeare’s works are no stranger to poorly aged scenes, but Measure seems a bit teasing as it shines a light on the issue, but has no intention of righting any wrongs. It clears the way for a tragedy and chickens out to become a comedy, which is somehow even more depressing.

Ball is aware of this, of course. The comparison of the piece to the “#MeToo” movement isn’t surprising, but it’s a tad pessimistic. While the play’s beats do technically play out like current cases, it’s undercut by a lack of comradery and hope that the movement inspires. Of course, the play was written centuries ago, but the female characters are underwritten to non-existent. The play and its final point would benefit from Chisholm’s Isabella getting the protagonist status she deserves.

Though the classics of Shakespeare have been ingrained in our culture, it is not uncommon for their dense poetic form and metre to go unappreciated. Honest heresy here: Shakespeare has a reputation of being ‘boring’. If that is your belief, see it performed live and eat your words.

Expect no less from these professionals then for the Bard’s heavy rhetoric to roll off the tongue. The energy and enthusiasm present in this production indicates a deep love and respect for the work and its language. Even if it is a lot of similar, yet linguistically impressive, sex puns.

It’s a trend to see these Shakespeare productions with the slightest of modern twists and Measure proves it’s a trope worth keeping. In the first moments, the Duke calls in Angelo using a bright, red-corded phone and then hands him his orders in the form of a paper-airplane. It soon becomes clear this tone and aesthetic will continue as seasoning.

Browne’s jaunty delivery is contagious. He and others maintain the personality of that single goofy paper plane choice and infect the show with a jolly pace.

Chisholm and Roy present a keen understanding of not only the play’s dense metaphors, but also the human characters within. They nail the nuances, but compared to the goofy side characters their subtly is actually quite apparent.

Lucio (Scott Harris) and Pompey (Michael Holmes-Lauder) would be two traditionally ‘fool-like’ figures, but the pair’s delivery is delightfully specific. Harris in particular performs so uniquely to his co-stars, beginning as a drunken rambler and eventually becoming a driving force of tension relief. Holmes-Lauder follows closely, constantly reinforcing the modernized setting with a Hawaiian shirt and his general spunk.

The circumstances of the stage create logistical issues. There isn’t much diversity of seating, and if you miss out on the front two rows you’ll at the very least enjoy a great audio drama. It would be ludicrous to request Bard in the Barracks to move the sun, but the placement of the stage within barrack’s square and timing of the show means that for at great portion both audience and actor must persevere through a blinding sunset.

It’s funnier than you would imagine, and darker as well. Measure isn’t Shakespeare’s most frequently produced feature so head downtown while you still can. The play itself might have its issues, but the production is committed to bringing it life. Bring sunglasses.

Bard in the Barracks’ production of Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure runs from June 21 on alternating days until July 7 at 2:00pm in Barrack’s Square.

‘#Swipers no swiping’: Rom-com interrupted, immersive theatre ensues

by Thomas MacDougall

Masters in Sociology student Carissa (Sophia Hébert) raises couple issues with millennials Gabe (Jason McIntyre) and Maddy (Syd Stuart) owing to their (and our) hopeless submersion into social media in the world premiere of Corenski Nowlan’s #Swipers. Photo credit: André Reinders

Theatre St. Thomas’s third production of the 2018-19 season, #Swipers, is a show written and directed by Corenski Nowlan and produced by Theatre St. Thomas. Early ads were dedicated to promoting this “romantic comedy for the Tinder generation” on posters and press releases, the latter of which added content warnings. Subsequent marketing, like an interview with Grid City Magazine, proclaimed the production to be a “convention breaking” and “potentially terrifying experience.”

At best, #Swipers is “experimental.” However, when proper precautions are not taken, experiments tend to fail. Warning: Spoilers follow.

In a nondescript millennial bedroom, Maddy (Syd Stuart) discovers her boyfriend Gabe (Jason McIntyre) has been using Tinder to arrange a polyamorous relationship with her and sociology grad student Carissa (Sophia Hébert). The exchange between the three would-be-lovers rarely wavers from a high-volume screaming match.

This is followed by a group of four masked terrorists, led by Rex Adams (Alex Panier), entering the theatre space, hitting chairs with metal baseball bats, and threatening to murder everyone in the room. They announce they are the cult terrorist group “Virex” and that their mission is to destroy the internet. Nowlan himself occasionally enters the aisles for some mask-to-face threatening. It is here that his hand is finally shown and the show’s true intent becomes clear. This is a stunt.

The Black Box is the perfect space for the unconventional presentation of theatre. This weekend, however, too few chairs (there were 52) are scattered in awkward lines on the floor facing a smaller stage that no one (but the front row) can see. For the first thirty minutes, the audience strains to crane their necks around each other just to catch a glimpse of an actor. In the latter half of the show, we become dizzy as the cast wanders around the perimeter. Some creative lighting choices are the play’s highlight, but the use of a fog machine and projector are excessive and strangely theatrical, despite the play’s supposed point.

The first thirty minutes are surprisingly tense and mean-spirited despite its “Star Wars!” and “Cell Phones!” buzzword-based insistence that we are supposed to be watching a comedy. Each actor screams their lines and that trend, unfortunately, carries throughout the rest of the hour-and-a-half runtime. McIntyre and Hébert make interesting choices, but Nowlan’s script only drags out their characters’ repetitive arguments until they are unrecognisable.

The second two-thirds of the show has another batch of problems, abruptly transitioning into performance art akin to a YouTube prank show. The audience is ordered to record the incident on their phones to post on social media “#Virex.” The terrorists’ goal is to track down a particular audience member: a YouTuber, Flip Thompson (Bryan Leger), known for his cringe-inducing online rants, yet Virex’s mission statement is, for some reason, a nearly identical anti-establishment/technology ramble.

The actors performing in #Swipers are repeatedly interrupted by a mysterious YouTuber. Photo credit: André Reinders

It becomes clear at this point that Panier and Nowlan have little control over the audience as, apart from a single enthusiastic participant, the crowd meets their threats with uncomfortable grimaces and pleading eyes for this all to be over.

The use of planted actors as audience members makes for several abrupt and awkward monologues that mark the end of all believability for Nowlan’s ruse. Once the plants speak their part, there seems to be nothing for them to do but drift off into the background and occasionally scream on cue.

The complaints Nowlan articulates over the course of the production are especially critical of Social Media and popular culture, but they cannot be taken seriously as they routinely become self-congratulatory of Nowlan and his ‘Avant-garde’ approach. Problematically, Nowlan’s mouthpiece character is ringleader Rex who is an irredeemable terrorist.

The play despises crowd-pleasing works like Star Wars, using them as bit references. While this could contribute to the overall counter-culture point, it’s played for cheap laughs even in the #Virex portion. Despite the ironic use of “Bae,” “Hashtag,” and “Fleek,” the millennial aspects of the play become a safe haven when they are the only words emphasized, and therefore audible, amongst the noise.

The intent of #Swipers is to confront the audience with the implications of the show’s scenario. The shocking result: uncomfortable people. It’s disheartening that this theory had to be tested, that so little care was put into the execution of a mock terrorist attack.

Though some marketing contained a vague prophecy, a proper Content Warning or disclaimer outside the theatre is ethically expected [ed. note: Ushers verbally offered the content warnings provided in the press material]. Once the show fires the trigger on its gimmick (and pulls a gun), it has nowhere to go. In fact, it cries itself hoarse, running into circles until it just stops. The audience is told to leave the theatre, and upon exit, one of the non-terrorist characters gives us a wave saying, “That’s the show.”

It is important to remember that the central function of this play is provocation. That being said, an audience being successfully provoked is not grounds for calling this play “a win.” It is insensitive given Fredericton’s recent experiences, not to mention unnecessarily violent. One would think the ideas of this play might have been better expressed if “shock value” wasn’t the only ill-conceived goal.

If the intent of #Swipers’ “play within a play” is for it to have repercussions in the rest of the show, or reality, then this has been lost in the commotion. The use of one of the “actors” as an audience POV or guide through the experience might solve many of the issues with lack of focus and sheer chaos.

Even then, the point would still be lost. The terrorists have anti-internet monologues and yet the supposed message of the initial play seemed to also be anti-technology. Props from the first act lie around aimlessly, collecting dust as the show forgets to utilize set ups, pay offs, foreshadowing, or plot.

Perhaps #Swipers is intended to be “realistic” without story structure or definable characters, but the result is a very loud, meandering, and surprisingly boring display of violence and insensitivity. Shame.

Theatre St. Thomas’s production of the world premiere of Corenski Nowlan’s #Swipers ran in STU’s Black Box Theatre May 2-4, 2019 at 7:30pm.

During a rehearsal for #Swipers, Rex Adams’s makeshift group Virex seek vigilante justice for the death of Rex’s sister, Vi, who was killed in a car accident when popular YouTuber “Flip Thompson” drove while distracted by his cell phone. Photo credit: André Reinders

 

The Despot delivers humanized rulers from our past and present with levity and brevity

by AJ Alward

Margaret Thatcher (Dustyn Forbes) and Logan Paul (Ben Smith) tangle in the coop and the Drama Concentration’s production of the collectively devised play The Despot.

A stunning mix of levity and brevity, the coop and the STU English Department’s Drama Concentration present The Despot, a play loaded with precise, militaristic movement and intelligent monologues that tackle themes of isolation, the pressure of being in the political spotlight, family, and business. It’s an absolute treat for millennial viewers everywhere, as many of the characters are those that pervade millennial culture.

Conceived of by the coop back in 2017, here the audience experiences a new, fresh play packed with original material written and delivered by STU’s Drama Concentration’s Advanced Acting and Theatre Production students, directed by Lisa Anne Ross. The plot itself is difficult to describe as it is character-driven, but the paths of each character highlight their own individual journeys toward self-enlightenment.

The use of stage space lacks much set design except for a string of chairs that manifest into a tower by the end of the play. However, if there were a more rigid set, it would hinder the mobility of the actors on stage who use their bodies effectively and efficiently to occupy the entirety of the stage. Most exemplary of the use of space would be Dustyn Forbes’s portrayal of ‘The Iron Lady’ Margaret Thatcher, with her tight, rigid movements popping with a restrained power that draws the audience in to her cutting actions. The restraint she expresses at her inevitable collapse is borderline heartbreaking, and it becomes second-nature to empathize with her despotic, right-wing character.

Beside her, most frequently, is Sarah Palin (Sydney Hallett), the despot of American democracy lacking brain power but possessing crippling anxiety surrounding the pressure of performing as a female politician. Her poses indicate that her role is performative, smacking on a smile in between movements and glaring at the audience.

Contrary to expectations, the play humanizes each ‘despot’. Most predominant is Ben Smith’s portrayal of the infamous YouTube star Logan Paul, where the character (perhaps giving Logan Paul more credit than he is due) expresses his remorse over mocking the Suicide Forest in Japan. The pressure of social criticism is clear in the dialogue, riddled with profanity and condemnation of his actions. His main action is a dog who chases its tail; it is a pertinent portrayal of the circular reasoning of Logan Paul, a cycle he cannot break himself until he is interrupted by the backlash of his viewership.

Lastly, the person responsible for Robin Williams’s (Mackenzie Currie) monologue/comedic bit on cocaine needs to be given an award. Revealing both layers of Williams’s depression through dark jokes about doing cocaine allows the audience’s hearts to break for the man: his struggles are clear as he dons an orange jumpsuit.

The lighting is perhaps the most stunning component of the entire play. Not one person sets a toe out of line of the spotlight, and the actors’ awareness of the stage space is mesmerizing. Choreographer Lesandra Dodson exposes her supreme knowledge of bodily control to a group of very willing participants and their efforts translate clearly to the viewers.

In addition, the music remains contemporary, with a great blend of hip-hop, pop, and even The Chicken Dance. The dubbing over of the celebrities’ voices in a conglomeration of cacophony was unsettling yet entertaining, as it generates the same feelings of claustrophobia the characters seem to experience.

A brief play, The Despot packs a punch with the quickness of dialogue, the effective use of bodily movement, layers of sound, and lighting to bring an unforgettable experience to a bewildered audience. The lasting power of the play is irrefutable, and something that returns to the minds of the audience members post-hoc.

Overall, this play is a must-see for any person in-the-know about pop-culture and history.

Collectively devised and presented by Solo Chicken Production’s the coop and the STU English Department’s Drama Concentration, The Despot ran at STU’s Black Box Theatre April 5-6, 2019.

 

Theatre UNB’s production of The Country Wife evokes laughter and some cringes

Horner (Robert Joy) entertains the bewigged Restoration ladies in Theatre UNB’s production of William Wycherley’s 1675 play The Country Wife. Photo Credit: Maria Ingrahm

by Olivia Stymiest

Theatre UNB’s production of William Wycherley’s classic Restoration comedy The Country Wife teems with sex, manipulation, and dark humour and is destined to evoke both laughter and a few cringes from the most cynical of viewers.

While many of the play’s revivals, such as that of Jonathan Munby’s Chichester at Southwark Playhouse, have been updated to portray the couples in a more modern light, director Len Falkenstein chooses to run the show with all of its original components—a choice that is both safe, in a sense, yet risky in terms of doing the original justice. There is a delicate balance that must be achieved in order to pull off the quick rhythm required for the type of banter this play contains, and at the moment, I am still uncertain whether or not the cast meets the tempo with accuracy. An attempt is certainly made, but I feel I missed certain big lines, whether it be from a lack of enunciation or the absence of time after the lines for the humour to register.

With that said, the cast’s portrayal of their characters is spot on, for the most part. While I must admit I found myself somewhat uncertain of Mr. Horner (Robert Joy) at the start, I have since come to realize this disdain is due to Joy’s accurate portrayal of the sly and shifty persona that is Horner.

Lady Fidget (Kate Aldacosta) carries herself exactly as a Victorian belle would, exuding pride through her body language and facial expressions. Furthermore, I can’t recall another production with actors that appear to be as content as Mr. Harcourt (Patrick Heffernan) and Mr. Dorilant (Chris Rogers). If these two are not best friends in real life, then they certainly have me fooled.

Finally, Mrs. Margery Pinchwife (Mary Walker) also maintains a substantial devotion to her role. Although there are moments when her projection overpowers that of her castmates, she maintains an unparalleled level of enthusiasm, as well as a decent accent. Special recognition also deserves to be given to several of the supporting cast members for their commitment during the scenes taking place at the Exchange. Despite not being the centre of attention, the actors playing vendors never break from character once. This is especially impressive given the duration of the scene.

The use of different coloured lights to signify Wycherley’s asides—the shift from the characters’ external conversation to introspective thoughts—is a fun and helpful tool. Certain characters, such as Mr. Pinchwife (Rory Quinn), amplify those moments by leaning in towards the audience, thereby generating the illusion of secrecy and creating a relationship with the viewers. Although the action is a little too exaggerated at times, this device (or at least the thought behind it) is useful and I would like to see the whole cast engaging with the audience in such a way, where appropriate.

That said, overall the play was well executed.

Theatre UNB’s production of William Wycherley’s The Country Wife ran at UNB’s Memorial Hall April 3-6, 2019.

Ryan Griffith’s A Brief History of the Maritimes and Everywhere Else lives both within and without a Maritime tradition

by Thomas MacDougall

Terry (Kevin Curran) shelters from a cruel landscape in Ryan Griffith’s A Brief History of the Maritimes and Everywhere Else, directed by TNB’s new artistic director Natasha MacLellan. Photo Credit: André Reinders

The “garrison mentality” is a common literary theme associated with Canadian literature and plays. First coined by critic Northrop Frye and further explored by Margaret Atwood, it is the recurring phenomenon of Canadian works sharing a universal theme of isolation and fear of outer forces. In a country whose landscape can be so cruel and unforgiving, this motif is only appropriate. One may never witness a play that embraces and epitomizes this theme as well as Ryan Griffith’s A Brief Mystery of the Maritimes and Everywhere Else.

In a log cabin, Terry (Kevin Curran) recounts a collection of stories to an initially unrevealed listener, and in true theatrical fashion that premise escalates as memories are regained, storms are endured and believers are made. The only sounds the audience hears are the tales of Terry, slight musical accompaniment, and the blizzard brewing outside, all of which form together into a humble symphony of the senses.

The play is a personal affair, as many contemporary one-man-shows are. Though the name might suggest a universal Maritime experience, the uniqueness of this work is its gradual unraveling into its own niche prophesy. I believe this to be an intentional misdirection on the part of Griffith, as one of the opening monologues from the pogey-clad Terry tells of his late-family who “loved anything nautical-themed,” but did not live close to the ocean. Curran’s performance is one of endurance. Seemingly alone with Griffith’s words, he commits to every beat and his passion brings a needed layer to the lead.

It is difficult to say how much of the show’s merit rests on Griffith’s writing, Curran’s performance, or the direction from Natasha MacLellan. This is to MacLellan’s credit. the show is seamless, save for a few brief moments of lulling or the handful of unnecessary beats taken. Truly the show culminates in the set, designed by Emily Soussana. This quaint little craft consists of two wall segments that ooze adjectives like “rustic” and “nautical.” Dangling lights and old rope engulf the stage in its eerie personality. It is a bigger question as to how the set affects the text of the show: some specific light cues give the impression of a ticking clock only to be inconsistent later without reason.

Griffith’s writing offers an accessible introduction, reeling in the crowd with natural ‘local talk’ and truly representing our region’s dialect, mannerisms, and flare. Without giving away where the show inevitably escalates to, it is a question of how the show carries through with its maritime identity. A crucial thematic beat relies on the work of an American author with his own collection of pop-culture baggage, so the latter third of the show teeters between being too Maritime to indulge in its concept, and too high-concept to truly represent the region.

Theatre New Brunswick’s world premiere of Ryan Griffith’s A Brief History of the Maritimes and Everywhere Else ran March 13-17, 2019 at TNB’s Open Space before touring to six locations throughout New Brunswick March 19-24, 2019.

Ryan Griffith’s A Brief History of the Maritimes and Everywhere Else a psychological play with haunting focus

by Peter Boyce

Terry (Kevin Curran) recounts gripping memories in the world premiere of Ryan Griffith’s A Brief History of the Maritimes and Everywhere Else. Photo Credit: André Reinders

I had the opportunity to see Ryan Griffith’s latest piece, A Brief History of the Maritimes and Everywhere Else, produced by Theatre New Brunswick and their Open Space Theatre. It certainly gives a history, but with an interesting twist.

The play consists of only one character by the name of Terry (Kevin Curran) who spends the show onstage recounting these stories of his to another implied character whom the audience cannot identify until much later in the show. Terry takes the audience on a ride that keeps us engaged all the way to the end thanks to his charisma, which Curran did an excellent job to capture, and the mystery of Griffith’s writing.

Griffith is able to create a realistic psychology for this character without giving away too much. He gives Terry a charming and witty personality but we get the sense that there is something strange or dark that has happened in this man’s past. As a result I found myself unable to pull away from this story because I was so intrigued about what was currently happening and curious about what was going to happen. It provides such a haunting atmosphere.

I also greatly admire the set design by Mike Johnston. It captures some of the themes of the Maritimes with the ropes and fishing nets all in disarray on a wall as well as the lights that contribute greatly to the telling of the story. Lighting and projection designer, Emily Soussana, does a great job in setting the atmosphere of the play. Her soft blues and fizzling television projections add to the darker tones of Griffith’s script and make the show all the more engaging.

The prospect of being the only actor onstage for an entire production may sound daunting, but Curran makes it seem almost effortless. He has a clear sight of what his character’s objectives are and makes each line fairly grounded and realistic while giving off the right amount of energy needed to make the show more intimate with the help of director Natasha MacLellan’s blocking. She keeps the overall movement of the actor to a minimum within the confines of the small set and that creates a good point of focus for the audience.

This show is genuinely one of the best psychological plays that I have seen in a while and is a great credit to Griffith’s abilities as a writer. It is one I highly recommend to others that wish to see something new and different.

Theatre New Brunswick’s world premiere of Ryan Griffith’s A Brief History of the Maritimes and Everywhere Else ran March 13-17, 2019 at TNB’s Open Space before touring to six locations throughout New Brunswick March 19-24, 2019.

Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest “produces vibrations” in the hands of Theatre St. Thomas

by AJ Alward

Gwendolen (Mika Driedger, foreground) and Cecily (Eliza Wolfe) argue over cake and Ernest in TST’s production of Wilde’s late-Victorian stage comedy. Photo Credit: André Reinders

Since its debut in 1895, Earnest remains a crowd favourite that aims to tickle the bones of all members of society.

Known for its dense dialogue and rapid epigrams, Oscar Wilde still hits the mark on city life versus rural life and mocks the class structures that still threaten to blow contemporary society apart.

Noted for works that include the novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, his essay The Soul of Man Under Socialism, and plays such as Salome and A Woman of No Importance, Wilde’s influence permeates all elements of the literary and the theatrical, including the poetic.

In this play, however, Wilde animates his two main characters, Algernon Moncrieff (Peter Boyce) and Jack Worthing (Ben Smith), at a moment where they both are at risk of being caught in their adventures “Bunburying”—an act involving the construction of an alias in order to do what they desire in their opposing social spheres.

In the balance is a possible lifetime of happiness with the women each man is courting, Jack to Gwendolyn (Mika Driedger), and Algy to Cecily (Eliza Wolfe). In the way: Lady Bracknell (Kat Hall) and her inquisitive berations on Jack’s character to ensure the best suitor for her daughter, Gwendolen.

Naturally, Boyce’s performance of Algernon is studded with sexuality and wit, yet does not strike the audience as unrelatable, stuffing his polite face with classic cucumber sandwiches. Algernon is, believably, a calculating prowler, which counters Jack’s neurotic, explosive nature as he dashes with heavy feet to retrieve a handbag. Hall does a stellar job depicting old age and the aristocracy, while Wolfe’s endearing innocence and Gwendolen’s uppity expectations are beyond enjoyable.

Jack, adopting his persona as his youngest brother Ernest, meets Algernon who calls his bluff on his false identity. Determined to marry Gwendolen, he keeps up the rouse in the face of Lady Bracknell until Gwendolen and Cecily discover Jack and Algernon’s folly with reproach. It remains rocky until Jack discovers his true identity and realizes the importance of being Ernest/earnest.

To reflect the claustrophobia of Wilde’s British society, Theatre St. Thomas’s production falls just shy of believability due to the blatant lack of furniture. The use of classical music near and dear to the hearts of audience members, however, bridges this gap and creates an air of Victorian England.

However, the directors Ilkay Silk and John Ball manage to give the play some contemporary flare through the characterization of Jack. In Victorian times, his actions would refute the nature of their society, with decorum at its core. Despite this, Smith presents a lighthearted Jack that clashes against his role as the straight man in the original play.

The plot, however, seems to drag along. The lilt of the conversations becomes repetitive and lacks energy until Act II. The directors, by comparison, pace Act II far more efficiently and it does not lose steam by the end. Act I, while solid, pales in comparison to the electricity found in Acts II and III.

The actors all have phenomenal chemistry with each other—the stage almost crackles when all the actors stand with each other at the end of the play. Overall, a very solid production.

Theatre St. Thomas’s production of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest ran  January 30 to February 2, 2019 in STU’s Black Box Theatre.

Lady Bracknell (Kat Hall) commands the garden with Cecily (Eliza Wolfe) while Gwendolen (Mika Driedger) looks on in TST’s production of The Importance of Being Earnest. Photo Credit: André Reinders