Fly on the Wall Theatre presents Conor McPherson’s The Good Thief, directed by Rod Ceballos and running at the Dora Keogh Irish Pub (141 Danforth Ave., Toronto, east of Broadview). Featuring an outstanding performance from David Mackett, this haunting, darkly funny, immersive piece of solo storytelling goes to Heaven and Hell and back again before it lands solidly in Purgatory. Part personal anecdote, part confessional, a low-level thief recounts numerous past sins, brief glimpses at redemption and the ghosts that haunt him to this day.
Order a pint, pull up a chair and hear The Narrator (David Mackett), a low-level criminal specializing in thievery and intimidation, tell his tale of life, love, criminal misadventure, narrow misses, crazy good luck and heartbreaking tragedy as a standard scare job goes sideways—and he ends up on the run with the target’s wife and young daughter. Suspecting that he’s been double-crossed by his powerful boss Joe Murphy—now the boyfriend of his ex Greta—and betrayed by his partners in crime, he finds himself being pursued for kidnapping. Trying to keep himself, Mrs. Mitchell and Neve out of harm’s way, he finds sanctuary in the country with the help of his buddy Jeff, the three have a moment of respite. Until all Hell breaks loose again.
Mackett gives a compelling, entertaining and poignant performance throughout, playing all the notes between black and white of this deeply flawed, irreverent but sympathetic character. Haunted, torn, conflicted and resourceful, our scrappy thug of a Narrator is a charming rogue of a fellow; recognizing his flaws, he’s candid—sometimes brutally so—circumspect and self-aware. Trying to do the right thing, even as he’s committing a crime, and thwarted by forces beyond his control, he’s faced with the double-sided coin of good luck and bad luck as he savours rare moments of beauty and tranquility, and mourns the senseless moments of violence and loss.
As The Narrator looks back on his life, and his part in these events, he finds he must eventually face up to what he’s done—for better or worse—and find a way to live with the ghosts and regrets, and try to make up for it somehow. And, to varying degrees, the same could be said of us all.
The Good Thief continues at the Dora Keogh until October 29; advance tickets available online. It’s an intimate venue, so advance booking or early arrival recommended; box office opens a half hour before show time.
Durae McFarlane & Amy Keating. Set & lighting design by Nick Blais. Projection design by Nick Bottomley. Costume & lobby design by Anahita Dehbonehie. Photo by Dahlia Katz.
Outside the March and Crow’s Theatre join forces to present Annie Baker’s Pulitzer Prize-winning love letter to the 35mm movie theatre in The Flick, directed by Mitchell Cushman, assisted by Katherine Cullen and Rebecca Ballarin, and running in the Guloien Theatre at Streetcar Crowsnest. Intimate, entertaining and immersive, workplace shenanigans, friendship, loyalty and personal demons emerge in the world of a run-down dive of a neglected movie house and the lives of three people who work there for minimum wage.
When you enter the Guloien Theatre, the audience seating faces rows of empty movie theatre seating, with a raised projection booth up centre. As the lights go down, the projector comes to life in the booth (projection design by Nick Bottomley), accompanied by Richard Feren’s sound design, giving you the full movie theatre experience—from a different perspective from the one we’re used to experiencing—including production company theme music and movie soundtrack snippets that play along with the light show.
It’s Avery’s (Durae McFarlane) first day on the job at The Flick Cinema, a run-down endangered species of a 35mm movie house in Massachusetts run by absentee owner/manager Steve (who we never meet). Veteran usher Sam (Colin Doyle) shows him the ropes of the walk-through—sweeping up and collecting trash in between screenings (and even waking up the occasional sleeper: Brendan McMurtry-Howlett). Rose the projectionist (Amy Keating) is working up in the booth; and despite Sam’s enthusiastic attempts to catch her attention, she’s not having it.
Avery is a college student, working there as a summer job; and he’s a big-time movie nerd and six degrees of separation savant, as Sam soon learns, much to his amazement. Sam’s broad tastes in movies include more popular, mass appeal films; and Avery is a serious film snob. And while Sam pursues the attentions of Rose, Rose seems to be interested in getting to know the new guy Avery.
As the relationship and workplace dynamics unfold, the three gradually and selectively reveal themselves to each other—and to us. Avery is dealing with some heavy psychological and emotional shit, including family issues. Sam is resentful that younger, less experienced staff are being promoted over him; and he keeps his family life close to the chest. Serial monogamist party girl Rose thinks there’s something wrong with her. And rumour has it that Steve may be selling The Flick; and in an age where 35mm is being replaced with digital, this means it will likely be updated with a digital projector—something that film buff Avery can’t abide. Various levels of privilege are highlighted; while Avery is Black, and having a professor father means a free ride to college, he’s the most likely to get blamed (by their racist boss) for screw-ups at work. Sam and Rose enjoy white privilege, but their familial and financial circumstances mean heavy student debt or no college at all, and a struggle to survive with minimum wage jobs. In the end, friendship and loyalty are put to the test as revelations and consequences emerge.
Remarkable work from this outstanding cast, each creating a sharply-drawn, authentic and flawed character that we all end up rooting for; and like in real life, they’re all putting on a show of sorts, wearing the public masks we all don on a daily basis—and occasionally, the masks are lifted and things get real. Doyle is endearing and entertaining as Sam; there’s a combination of grumpy old man and chill young dude that masks Sam’s discouragement at being personally and professionally rejected. He’s in love, but can he bring himself to say so? McFarlane is an adorkable delight as Avery; highly intelligent, socially awkward and longing for a friend, there’s a lost little boy quality about Avery that hints at a deeper internal conflict. Keating brings a lovely combination of fire and vulnerability to the high-octane, free spirit Rose; as much of an extrovert as Avery is an introvert, Rose is a free spirit whose desires are expressed in brief and intense sexual relationships. Even though Rose does what she likes and likes what she does, she wonders about the long term—and if something is really wrong with her.
All the world’s a stage—or in this case, a movie screen—and we’re all merely players. Real life isn’t like it is in the movies, but sometimes we can hit some of those sweet spots. And we all have opportunities to choose to get real and drop the stereotype mask for a moment, or not.
The Flick continues at Streetcar Crowsnest, extended by popular demand to November 2; advance tickets available online. Advance booking recommended; this is a really popular show.
Ensemble with the October 15 guest Icon. Lighting design and effects by Carl Elster.
Haus of Dada, Workman Arts, KC Cooper and Meek present Lisa Anita Wegner and Scott White’s electric, tantalizing and surprising Intangible Adorations: Experience the Icon as part of Workman Arts’ annual Rendezvous with Madness Festival, running in the Workman Arts Chapel. The multimedia performance piece is part film, part performance art, part social experiment—as it explores the allure of celebrity and its impact on celebrity mental health. Each performance, a different mystery celebrity appears as the Icon, disguised in a morph suit. Will they reveal themselves or choose to remain anonymous?
Featuring performers KC Cooper, Emily Gillespie, Amy Loucareas, Meek, Jane Smythe and Lisa Anita Wegner; and hosted by creators Wegner and Scott White, audience members are ushered into the space as VIP guests of a celebrity. You’re given a VIP tag with your host celebrity’s name (I was with Tilda Swinton’s group) and invited to be seated by group for a three-part immersive experience of performance art and brush with celebrity.
We’re introduced to the genesis of Intangible Adorations with a brief documentary film highlighting Lisa Anita Wegner’s history as an actor, producer and filmmaker; and the diagnosis of Complex PTSD that led her to set off on solo film projects and an exploration of identity, iconography and transformation—and to the genesis of the morph suit-clad Think Blank Human that served as inspiration for this current project. For Wegner, art saves her life every day.
Prior to the appearance of the Icon, an audience member is offered the opportunity to get a taste of celebrity by joining Wegner and White up front and centre, along with the ensemble. It is a strange and discomfiting experience for the volunteer, even though she’s an actor. We’re reminded that lots of celebrities and performers are actually quite shy of the spotlight when it’s focused on them personally, as opposed to when they’re in character or in performance. Many performers are, in fact, introverts.
Wegner and White move on to give us a few rules of engagement with the Icon. Hints are dropped at who the celebrity may be: a female pop star of great renown, a major celebrity. There’s some buzz in the audience that it’s Madonna. A respectful hush falls over the audience as White ushers her in; the white morph suit, worn with a deep purple costume over it, covers her from head to toe, making it challenging for her to see. We’re called up by group to line up for a photo and an autograph; and then invited to head across the hall, into the Red Chapel.
While it may have a Game of Thrones edge to the name, the Red Chapel is actually a place of celebrity adoration—the Church of Celebrity, if you will. Here, we may sit where we like as we watch the ensemble, now all dressed in morph suits and costumes, prepare the way for the Icon as they move and dance (music by Pink Moth) around the ornate wooden throne, set on a dais. It is here that we will have a brief audience with her.
The Icon arrives to sit on the throne; White hands her a microphone and, through voice modification to maintain her anonymity, she speaks to us. Sharing personal anecdotes of youthful adoration and a more recent fan girl moment with a famous actor she respects and admires at the Academy Awards, she is genuine, candid, vulnerable and circumspect. She goes on to share her experience of and response to being famous, including sessions with a therapist; her talk taking on a confessional tone. Humble, forthcoming and generous, she moves to reveal herself—and then, with apologies, decides against it. The second-hand celebrity gained by the audience at having spent time with her is less important than the revelation that we are all worthy and beautiful people in our own right.
And so our time with the Icon comes to a close. The buzz about her identity continues: too tall for Madonna. Katy Perry? Lady Gaga? As we head back into the first space to collect our coats, ensemble members, acting as reporters, ask us about our favourite celebrities and how our views may have changed as a result of this experience.
If you had any aspirations to be a celebrity, the experience may have you thinking otherwise. And the electric buzz about the possible identity of the Icon was, I’m sure, accompanied by skepticism about whether the guest was an actual celebrity at all. How does that change the experience? And how would a reveal have changed the experience? Were we more at ease, as she was anonymous, vulnerable—humanized, even? Come and see for yourself—you have three more chances.
Intangible Adorations: Experience the Icon continues in the Workman Arts Chapel until October 19, with performances on Oct 16 at 8:00, Oct 18 at 7:00 and Oct 19 at 2:00 (final performance to be followed by a Q&A). Advance tickets available online. Enter through the main entrance off of Dufferin St. (where the box office is located up a short flight of stairs); a member of the company will come to escort you to the performance space.
Here are some photos I took last night; lighting and FX by Carl Elster. Thanks to Scott White for the photo of me and the Icon. And thank you to the Icon for sharing her time and thoughts with us last night.
Mandy E. MacLean. Lighting design by Logan Raju Cracknell. Photo by Matt Carter.
The hiraeth collective’s hiraeth, created and performed by Mandy E. MacLean, and directed for this SummerWorks production by Leah Holder, takes the audience on an intimate solo show personal history tour of teenage memories, with a longing for identity and a sense of belonging at the heart of the storytelling. Nostalgic, wistful and endearing in its humour and poignancy, it’s a reminder that you can’t really go home again, but you can visit for a brief time and maybe even take away something new. hiraeth opened at the Media Arts Centre in the Gamma Gallery yesterday afternoon.
MacLean joins the audience in the round, bursting with nervous energy and apology. A soldier’s kid who grew up in a Canadian Forces PMQ (Private Military/Married Quarters), as an adult, she searches through the dark of the basement, shouting to her mother upstairs as she rummages through storage containers to find her packed away stuff in a garbage bag. This personal archeological dig through the past reveals cassette tapes of teen journaling and music favourites—taking her back to a younger self who overheard parental arguments and feared for her father’s safety.
An awkward, bespectacled middle schooler nicknamed “Dung Beetle” by a mean girl classmate, and experiencing those awkward, wonderful first crush feels for a boy named Michael, she’s also navigating the excitement and concerns about the upcoming Y2K New Year and the big changes she anticipates it will bring. A flashlight becomes a male friend—not her boyfriend—and her other hand, wearing her glasses, becomes herself as she re-enacts a first kiss and later dancing at the New Year’s Eve party. Her heart set on the ever-evasive Michael, that first kiss was merely a practice run for him, and she’s painfully aware and wary of advancing her already precarious social standing by any assumptions that she was with a “loser”.
It’s an intimate, immersive experience—where the audience becomes her confidantes, fellow party goers and even her mother—as MacLean includes and addresses us directly while mapping out the scary, awkward, confusing and marvelous moments from her life as a teen; in search of home and identity, and mourning what was and what could have been, in an endearingly funny, vulnerable and poignant performance.
“Hiraeth” is a Welsh term for a feeling of homesickness for a home you can’t go back to—or maybe never even existed. Part nostalgia, part grief experience, part interior journey, hiraeth lives up to its name. You can’t go home again—and the trip you take through memory and personal artifacts maybe only highlight what you took with you. But maybe the attempt can unearth something new.
hiraeth continues in the Toronto Media Arts Centre Gamma Gallery (second floor, hang a hard right when you get to the top of the stairs) until August 17; check the show page for exact dates/times. Tickets available online or in person at the box office; seating is limited, so consider booking ahead.
Christopher Mott, Chanakya Mukherjee & Liz Der. Photo by Stevie Baker.
Dauntless City Theatre is back at Berczy Park (aka the dog fountain park across from the St. Lawrence Centre) with a delightful immersive, site-specific adaptation of Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well. Adapted and directed by Scott Emerson Moyle, assisted by Jordi O’Dael, this version of the play is queer, twisty, darkly funny—and calls out bad behaviour—in an intimate, energetic romp of sauce and wit that’s part cautionary tale, part dark comedy.
Helena (a feisty, resilient turn from Liz Der) has recently lost her father, a skilled and respected doctor, and is now the ward of the recently widowed Countess Rousillon (Andrea Lyons is a treat in this edgy, hilarious performance), whose son Bertram (played with sneering pride and entitlement by Chanakya Mukherjee) is now the new Count. Helena is hopelessly and secretly in love with Bertram, but dares not hope for a match, as she is not noble-born. She is, however, very skilled in the healing arts; and when news arrives that the King of France (played with imperiousness tempered by warmth by Christopher Mott) has been very ill with no cure in sight, she sees a way to prove her worth to Bertram, who has travelled to the French court with his BFF Parolles (a cheeky, lovable scoundrel, played with gusto by Annelise Hawrylak).
Despite his skepticism after many failed treatments administered by many learned men, the King agrees to Helena’s treatment—and rewards her success by offering her the choice of any man in court for her husband. Taking this opportunity, she chooses Bertram; and when he rudely refuses her proposal, the King forces him into marriage. With war brewing in Florence, Parolles sees a way out and suggests that she and Bertram leave France and join the army. They do so, with Bertram leaving word with Helena that he will be her husband only if she successfully completes the impossible task of getting a ring from him and getting pregnant with his child. Helena pursues Bertram to France and, with the help of the independent and savvy innkeeper Diana (Melanie Leon), who Bertram has been doggedly pursuing to bed, hatches a plan to make the impossible possible.
Rounding out the company are Eric Benson as the priggish, arrogant M. LaFeu, an elder courtier at the Countess’s home; Tallan Alexander as Lavatch, the Countess’s saucy valet; and Holly Wyder as the spritely, guitar playing Dumaine the Younger and Anthony Botelho as the cheeky, trumpeter Dumaine the Elder, sibling messengers and our guides around the park.
And just as Helena and Diana put one over on Bertram, Parolles’ fellow soldiers (Lyons, Mott, Alexander and Benson) pull some trickery on him, revealing his true character. Prideful and careless of others, both Bertram and Parolles fall hard, and must surrender to their respective fates in the end. And an unexpected match is made in the process.
Part cautionary tale, part dark comedy, the energetic and entertaining ensemble keeps us on our toes—literally and figuratively—with twisting plot turns, and hilarious battles of words and wits; with some characters thinking and acting with their hearts and others working from somewhere decidedly south of there. Sharp-witted skills at verbal thrust and parry is in great evidence between Hawrylak’s Parolles and Benson’s M. LaFeu, as well as Hawrylak and Der’s Helena, and Lyons’ Countess and Alexander’s Lavatch. And Der’s performance is a great combination of love-struck and determination in Helena’s one-sided attentions to Bertram, and keen debate and care with the King—all while trying to prove herself worthy of Bertram’s love, which he clearly doesn’t want or deserve.
The adaptation lives up to the title, connecting us with the story in an intimate and contemporary way in an immersive, site-specific production that incorporates gender-bending casting, queer twists and calling out bad behaviour. The underlying misogyny and classism get big time push-back with powerful, capable and intelligent female and queer characters who ain’t taking no guff. (And with a female Parolles, we’re also reminded that even women can be dicks.) Beware of the proud and scornful, and the braggart cowards—and the proud and scornful mustn’t underestimate the smart and resourceful, no matter what their station. And don’t waste your talent and affection on someone who doesn’t care for or deserve you.
All’s Well That Ends Well continues in Berczy Park until August 25, with Friday and Saturday evening performances at 7:30 pm (except for Fri, Aug 9); and Saturday and Sunday matinees at 1:00 p.m. Admission is pay what you can (PWYC), suggested $20 per person; look for the Dauntless City Theatre banner, east of the fountain.
Department of Corrections: The original post had matinee performances listed at 1:30 p.m.; they’re actually at 1:00 p.m. This has been corrected.
Clockwise from top centre: Christol Bryan, Marina Gomes, Yousef Kadoura, Tijiki Morris, Nathan Redburn & Anthony Perpuse. Set & costume design by Christine Urquhart. Lighting design by Rebecca Vandevelde. Photo by Sam Gaetz.
Eraser Theatre brings the world premiere of its immersive production ERASER, presented as part of Why Not Theatre’sRISER Project 2019, to The Theatre Centre’s Incubator stage. Created by the ensemble, along with director/choreographer team Bilal Baig and Sadie Epstein-Fine, ERASER invites the audience into the world of the six performers’ grade 6 memories and fantasies, weaving their individual experiences together as their young student selves navigate their tween lives and struggle to figure out who they want to be.
The endearing, brave, high-energy ensemble features Christol Bryan (Whitney, the Queen Bee), Marina Gomes (Tara, the Know-it-all), Yousef Kadoura (Jihad, the Follower), Tijiki Morris (Afroze, the New Kid), Anthony Perpuse (Eli, the Space Cadet) and Nathan Redburn (Noah, the Sad One). As you enter the theatre space, you’re given a lanyard that bears the name and image of one of the students; this student will be your guide throughout the experience, and you’re invited to join them in their space before the action begins.
I was put on team Eli (Perpuse), and we joined him in his room, hanging out and getting to know him before the start of the new school year. A gayby kid of Filipino heritage, nearly 12-year-old Eli has two moms—with one mom’s brother being the sperm donor for the other mom’s pregnancy. He’s a chill, affable, curious kid who loves to hang out in his room, stretching and playing video games, especially Pokémon; and he’s got a nostalgic side, favouring games he played as a kid (i.e., an even younger kid).
Audience members following a character* become that student’s group of friends, their confidantes, their posse—and we follow them through the sixth grade minefield of gym and math class, the cafeteria and playground, class presentations, a game of Truth or Dare, and a school dance. Each character reads as an archetype for someone you surely knew—or maybe even were—in grade 6 yourself; interesting dynamics emerge, and theories and rumours abound. How did Noah’s brother die? What’s the deal with the new kid? Who has a crush on whom? Who’s failing math?
The remarkable ensemble invites us in as they open their hearts, minds and sixth grade experiences to us. The six individual stories are woven together with scenes, movement and audience interaction—with engaging and moving results; and the appearance of their teacher, Miss Hall, is indicated with the footstep sounds of her heels. Bryan’s Whitney may be the alpha kid on the playground, but her confident, take-charge demeanour masks the profound sense of frustration and oppression she, the only Black kid in the class, feels over being singled out for discipline when the whole class was involved. Gomes’s A-student Tara relishes learning and academic success, and dreams of becoming an important political figure—while, underneath it all, she just wants to belong and have a nice, cute boyfriend. Kadoura’s Jihad, who wears a prosthetic leg, seems happy to follow his friends, yet he’s the one they call upon to approach the new kid; he has a big, open heart and a supportive network, but you get the sense that he’s struggling with his place in the world.
Morris’s Afroze, a white girl raised in Pakistan, is navigating both culture shock and being the new kid in a group of kids who’ve grown up with each other. Struggling to make friends as her classmates treat her like some strange, exotic creature, she holds the familiar comforts of home close as she works out a way to fit in to this new world. Perpuse’s laid back Eli reveals a pensive, sensitive soul struggling with math class—and wondering why his friend Noah is ignoring him after they got so close over the summer. Sometimes, Eli needs to give himself a time out from it all, craving a solitary moment so he can sort things out in his head, or let his pent-up frustration safely erupt. And Redburn’s Noah desperately wants his life to just get back to normal after his brother died this past summer; reaching out, then pulling away from his friend Eli as he grapples with grief, loss and attraction.
If you’re an adult audience member, you may find yourself becoming that kid you were in grade 6—or at least remembering what it was like. The emerging hormones and curiosity about sex, the gossip and note passing, the mortifying shyness at the school dance, the joyful fantasies of future success, and fears of failure or having your most secret desires made public. Some of it comes to matter deeply, some of it doesn’t. And while each audience member will experience the show in their own personal way, everyone will take away something from the experience.
ERASER continues in the Incubator at the Theatre Centre until May 14, with performances May 10, 11 and 13 at 7:00, and matinées on May 9, 11 and 14 at 2:00 (with a 30-minute talkback following matinées). Tickets available online, in person at the box office, or by calling 416-538-0988.
*There is seating for those with mobility issues; they will have a good vantage point—and, in some cases, the action will come to them.
Julian Frid, Kaitlin Morrow, Seann Murray & Conor Bradbury. Photo by Connor Low, with graphic design by Jon Blair.
Sex T-Rex presents the Toronto premiere of the hilarious immersive comedy Crime After Crime (After Crime), in partnership with West Neighbourhood House, as they take us into the underground world of a warehouse speakeasy for tales of crime and intrigue; on for a very short run this week at 165 Geary Ave., Unit 2. Highlighting some favourite crime movie genre themes, Sex T-Rex takes us from 1950s film noir, to 1970s heist, to 1990s buddy picture—all stamped with their signature brand of playfully staged action, imaginative use of props and costumes, and big-time satirical fun.
Created and performed by Conor Bradbury, Julian Frid, Kaitlin Morrow and Seann Murray, the intrepid Sex T-Rex ensemble plays out three interconnected stories of crime, corruption and schemes; full of surprising twists and turns, double crosses and sexy fun times as gum shoes, criminals and cops rumble in Crime City.
In 1952, private eye Nick Beige (Frid) gets way more than he bargained for when a lovely damsel in distress arrives on his door step looking for help; twin sisters, family machinations and a dangerous search for a hidden treasure ensue. In 1972, Diamond Stone (Morrow) puts together a highly skilled team to pull off a big heist at the Crime City casino; only things don’t go exactly as planned, forcing the intrepid team to improvise their way out of some intense—not to mention sexy—situations. Jumping to 1992, loose cannon detective partners Order and Law (Bradbury and Murray) find themselves out in the cold when they bust the last criminal in Crime City, prompting the Mayor to shut down the city’s police force and legal system; no longer cops, but suspecting that something hinky is afoot, they’re determined to find out what’s going on—and learn that the underlying scheme reaches farther than they ever could have imagined.
Alluring shady ladies; hunky devil-may-care dudes; gripping chases, fights and daring deeds (plus groovy wigs!)—I guarantee your smile muscles will be aching (in a good way) the next day. With shouts to producer Alex Dault, stage manager Kyah Green, partner Connor Low and publicist Victoria Laberge for their work on this big fun, immersive show, staged in a really cool space.
Crime After Crime (After Crime) continues at 165 Geary Ave., Unit 2 (between Dovercourt and Dufferin) until February 24; show time details and advance tickets available online and strongly recommended. Some performances are sold out, but you can take your chances at the door. Doors open an hour before curtain time; bring cash for drinks, games and Sex T-Rex merch, as the onsite ATM is on the fritz. Try your hand at some casino games, enter for prizes and stick around for the nightly dance party after the show.