Getting to the truth, & touching on the why, about violence against women in the thought-provoking, chilling SMYTH / WILLIAMS

Deborah Drakeford, Lynette Gillis & Kim Nelson in SMYTH / WILLIAMS—photo by Yuri Dojc

War and violence against women not only have similar social, cultural, and religious supports, they are mutually reinforcing. These supports allow societies to tolerate conditions in which a third of women and girls can be treated violently, without mass outcry and rebellion. When we challenge the attitudes and norms that enable violence against women, we are also helping to confront the conditions that support war.—Reverend Susan Thistlethwaite (included in the program notes for SMYTH / WILLIAMS)

Trigger warning: This post reviews a verbatim theatre production based on the transcripts of a police interview with a convicted serial killer rapist.

One Little Goat Theatre Company opened its all-female staging of the Ontario Provincial Police (O.P.P.) transcript of Detective Jim Smyth’s interview of stalker and serial killer Russell Williams in the Theatre Passe Muraille (TPM) Backspace last night. SMYTH / WILLIAMS was devised and directed by Adam Seelig.

Staged in a dramatically rendered police interview room (set by Jackie Chau and lighting by Laird Macdonald), including two microphone stands, two chairs and two copies of the transcript, the set also includes a drum kit, situated up centre, behind a pile of cedar chips on a floor that depicts a map. The transcript is a notable prop, not only for its occasional and specific use by the two actors (Deborah Drakeford and Kim Nelson), but for the extent to which it’s been redacted—in some parts heavily so—and those portions of the conversation between Smyth and Williams are filled in on stage by drum solos (Lynette Gillis).

The over seven-hour interview, which took place on February 7, 2010, has been pared down to about 90 minutes in this staged verbatim performance, with Drakeford and Nelson switching back and forth between characters, both playing Smyth and Williams at various points in the interview. The trajectory of the conversation begins with Williams being questioned as a person of interest in multiple crimes in the Ottawa and Belleville areas, to his arrest as evidence becomes available and search warrants executed on his homes, to his confession.

The cast is to be commended for their specific, respectful and focused performances of this difficult, disturbing material. Drakeford and Nelson establish a compelling dynamic between Smyth and Williams. Smyth is presented as the classic “good cop,” conducting the interview in a respectful, methodic but gentle way. Williams is the strong, silent type; a military man of few words who serves his country and appears to cooperate in the interest of serving his community in this investigation. The result is a pairing of strong feminine and masculine energies, with the interview shifting from more easy-going conversation to urgent strategizing as new information surfaces during the course of the investigation.

I was a bit baffled at first as to how the drum solos were going to work in the context of filling in redacted sections of the transcript (this info provided by Drakeford and Nelson at the beginning of the play; they also hold up their copies, showing the large blacked-out portions of the text in these instances). Drums are a primal, beat-driving percussion instrument; and Gillis is a skilled musician, drawing out the larger redactions with kick-ass precision. It’s an interesting and innovative piece of staging for what cannot be said—and one can only imagine that the redacted sections contain the more horrific details of Williams’ crimes. As the confession unfolds, there is an increasing Riot Grrrl vibe to Gillis’s performance—the drums beating out in anger and protest.

The production has not been without controversy. Terra Dafoe, a friend and neighbour of Jessica Lloyd, one of the women Williams abducted, raped and murdered, is at the forefront of a group that’s spearheaded a protest against the presentation of SMYTH / WILLIAMS, which they argue is a non-consensual and re-traumatizing production that sensationalizes violence against women. Dafoe was present at the opening last night, handing out a one-pager that states their case and includes a link to their Lead Now petition. Here’s a sampling of interviews from both the production (via News 1130) and the protest (via CBC).

Full disclosure: I was wary of seeing this production. Although I’m a big fan of TV crime procedurals, SMYTH / WILLIAMS is not a TV crime procedural. It’s real life. This is not fictitious, made-up dialogue—this conversation really happened, between a real detective and a real rapist/murderer. The women Williams stalked, harassed, raped and killed were real people. And, like those protesting the production, I was concerned about the details that would be revealed, as well as the traumatic effect of the subject matter. I decided to see it because I was curious as to whether such a production would have anything of value to say about violence against women. And, naively, I was hoping to find a ‘why.’ Why did he do it?

What I saw was a production that does not serve up salacious details—in fact, the disturbing details are kept to a minimum and what is included is presented in such a way as to show Williams’ apparent detachment from his actions, as well as the atrocity of those actions, when the actors peer out from their male characters and speak as women. Ironically, the turning point for Williams comes as he learns that search warrants are being executed on his homes—and he becomes deeply concerned about the negative impacts on his wife and the Canadian Armed Forces. Whether his concern came from a place of love and honour, or from a place of losing his grip on domination and control, it appears to be what ultimately spurred his confession. And an even bigger question mark is why he did what he did. Even if Williams knew, he wasn’t saying.

While I agree that seven years may be too soon for a theatrical examination of this case, I also have to wonder how one puts an arbitrary time limit on loss, grief and that deeply troubling ‘why.’ Theatre is a medium that helps us to explore all aspects of humanity and human experience—from the gods to the monsters—and I believe SMYTH / WILLIAMS and its opening night audience treated this real life piece of the more horrific side of humanity with respect and dignity.

The quote included at the beginning of this post, taken from the program notes, connects the dots between war and violence against women. While not a fulsome answer to the ‘why,’ it does give us a glimpse into the workings of a social infrastructure that supports ongoing violence against women and girls; and one from which a man like Williams emerged. I believe that widespread outcry and rebellion are growing, and that such push-back is amplified by the grief and rage incited by crimes like these, as well as the election of misogynists to high office.

There was no applause after the cast left the stage. No curtain call. A moment of silence for several moments followed before the audience gradually began hushed conversation and exited the space. This was not a reflection on the performances. Like the production, the audience wanted to treat the memories of the women that Williams harmed and murdered with respect and dignity—and in this way, the production and the petition are in agreement.

Getting to the truth, and touching on the why, about violence against women in the thought-provoking, chilling SMYTH / WILLIAMS.

This is not a production for everyone. If you decide to see SMYTH / WILLIAMS, there are some important questions you need to ask yourself. Why are you going to see it? Do you think the production contributes to the conversation about violence against women in a meaningful way? And if you happen to cross paths with Dafoe or another protestor, treat them with respect, hear what they have to say and read the hand-out. Free speech goes both ways—and both the protest and the production have important things to say.

SMYTH / WILLIAMS continues in the TPM Backspace until Mar 12; book in advance online or call 416-504-7529.

Entertaining, topsy-turvy romp of political shenanigans & scandal in Ubu Mayor

UBU #2 - Richard Harte centre - w Astrid Van Wieren& Michael Dufays - Yuri Dojc photo
Astrid Van Wieren, Richard Harte & Michael Dufays – photo by Yuri Doje

One Little Goat Theatre Company opened its run of Adam Seelig’s Ubu Mayor at the Wychwood Theatre last night. Inspired by Alfred Jarry’s Ubu Roi – and the wacky antics and scandals of Toronto Mayor Rob Ford and his brother, Councillor Doug Ford – Seelig describes Ubu Mayor as “an all-out romp of asinine absurdity. With music.” This is One Little Goat’s first production with music, and Seelig is wearing several hats for this piece – also the composer and director – with music and live band direction by Tyler Emond.

Mayor Ubu (Richard Harte) is a well-meaning, but not too bright, bicycle riding guy with a vision who wants the best for his city. He also thinks his wife Huhu (Astrid Van Wieren) is cheating on him with his older brother Dudu (Michael Dufays). The audience knows this to be true, but Huhu and Dudu manage to manipulate and distract the gullible Ubu away from the issue of marital infidelity onto their own schemes for the city. Huhu and Dudu’s selfish grasping for personal power within the halls of municipal politics stands in stark contrast to Ubu’s selfless dream of inclusive city building.

Harte brings a sweet, but dim-witted, teddy bear quality to Ubu – a child-like, simple-minded man who holds power publicly, all the while the unwitting pawn of his wife and brother in private. Van Wieren’s Huhu is both sly and sexy, fetishizing macho dominance – but, much like Ubu, just wants to be loved. Dufays is repulsive yet compelling as the foul-mouthed, thuggish Dudu – a racist, misogynistic, homophobic bully and the polar opposite of his younger brother – a cold puppet master with a primal urge to mount.

The opening of Ubu Mayor’s run coincided with some dramatic, eyebrow-raising events at Toronto City Hall just hours before. In the eleventh hour before the nomination deadline, embattled Mayor Rob Ford withdrew from the mayoral race to focus his fight on a personal medical battle, with brother Doug throwing his hat into the race for mayor, Rob displacing their nephew Michael in the run for councillor of Ward 2 (Etobicoke North) and Michael switching to run for public school trustee. I know; you need a program just to follow all the role switching and understudies in that situation. It should be noted that the production of Ubu Mayor neither represents actual politicians nor is meant as journalistic theatre.

Seelig is not presenting the Ford brothers here, but was inspired by their antics, weaving Ford sound bites into hilarious dialogue (e.g., “Those Oriental people work like dogs.”) and original songs like “Plenty to Eat at Home” (one of my personal faves). Individually and collectively, the cast has an impressive set of pipes, with strong solo work and bang-on harmonies. “Etobicokaine” is another stand-out song. The cast is accompanied by a tight live band: Seelig (piano), Emond (bass) and Jeff Halischuk (drums).

With shouts to the design team Jackie Chau (set and costumes) and Laird MacDonald (lighting) for creating this world, civilized on the surface, with an absurd circus underbelly. The hanging smoked pigs, chandelier and bicycle wheel set the environment perfectly.

Much like the news-grabbing events of City of Toronto politics under the Ford administration, Ubu Mayor is an entertaining, topsy-turvy absurdist romp of political shenanigans and scandal. With music. It really is better to laugh than cry.

The script, including sheet music, published by BookThug is available for purchase online. And you can find updates and info about Ubu Mayor on Facebook.

And check out this L’Express interview with Seelig here (in French, by Charlotte Dupon).

Ubu Mayor runs until September 21. You can purchase advance tickets online or by calling 416-915-0201.