The power, magic & malice of words in the fascinating, visceral, philosophical, sensual Knives in Hens

Clockwise from top: Jonathon Young, Diana Bentley & Jim Mezon. Set and lighting design by Kaitlin Hickey. Costume design by Michelle Tracey. Photo by Dahlia Katz.

 

Coal Mine Theatre kicks off its 6th season with David Harrower’s Knives in Hens, directed by Leora Morris. Set in 15th century Scotland in the outskirts of a small, stifling rural village, it’s a fascinating, visceral, philosophical and sensual look at the evolution of words and language—and the power such awareness brings. Knives in Hens opened at the Coal Mine Theatre to a sold-out house last night.

Pony William (Jim Mezon) is a ploughman; growing and harvesting grain on his land with his young wife, simply known as Young Woman (Diana Bentley). He keeps a tight rein on her, her micromanaged days working around their home dutifully reported to him; he even manages her thoughts. She’s not allowed in the barn; he says it’s because the horses don’t know her and she’ll fright them. She has pensive flights of fancy, wondering about what things are called and struggling to describe what she sees out in the small world around her; and he discourages these, especially around their village neighbours.

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Diana Bentley & Jim Mezon. Set and lighting design by Kaitlin Hickey. Costume design by Michelle Tracey. Photo by Dahlia Katz.

When a young mare shows signs of a difficult oncoming labour, and with the grain harvested and needing immediate grinding, William sends his wife to the mill with five sacks of grain, issuing a stern warning about the character of the miller and precise instructions as to how to behave during the transaction. According to William, the miller is universally hated—a widower rumoured to have killed his wife and child.

The Young Woman finds an unexpected kindred spirit in the miller Gilbert Horn (Jonathon Young), who writes his thoughts down using pen and paper—translating his thoughts into words that will last long after the thoughts have dissipated. As she spends time with him, the Young Woman’s curious, fevered attempts at finding the words for moments she witnesses on the land blossom and grow—and with this mastery comes increased power and self-confidence.

Bentley brings a feisty, curious edge to the Young Woman; always searching and questioning—despite her husband’s insistence that she keep her wondering mind to herself. She reaches out into the world and into her mind for the words to express that world. Mezon’s old patriarchal ploughman combines a gruff severity with doting adoration; but William seems to be more enamoured of his horses than his wife. The Young Woman is something he saw and wanted; something to put to work around the house and to warm his bed. That she has no name is telling, for to name something—or someone—is to make it useful and give it power. Young gives Gilbert a somewhat sly, enigmatic vibe; amused and playful regarding the villagers’ gossip about him, Gilbert is a sensitive, introspective and even lonely man. A man who longs to see and know the world outside the mill and the small-minded confines of the village. Like the Young Woman, his mind and heart are too big for this small life—and he needs to get out. And it is he who asks the Young Woman’s name; and though she writes it, we never hear it spoken aloud.

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Jonathon Young. Set and lighting design by Kaitlin Hickey. Costume design by Michelle Tracey. Photo by Dahlia Katz.

Kaitlin Hickey’s earthy set, combined with a heavenly lighting design, puts us in mind both of the sun and the light of knowledge, shining down on the Earth and its creatures—highlighting the divine and profane aspects of this story. And if you cross the raised playing area to the seating on the other side, or to use the washroom, you can feel and smell the earth beneath your feet. Christopher Ross-Ewart’s dramatic string-dominated sound design underscores the beating heart of land and its people, and the soaring, magical and menacing power of words. And Michelle Tracey’s period costumes mark when we are and who these people are; simple rural folk in an age of religion and superstition.

Divine and profane, poetic and pragmatic, visceral and cerebral—the journey from thought to word is fraught with religious and societal meaning and repercussions. Thoughts entering the mind are thought to come from God; whereas words and language are a corporeal, human construct. We are reminded of the Creation story—the characters mirroring the three main players of God, Adam and Eve. The word made flesh. And as God named the creatures of the Earth, so too does man name what he sees. Does that make us God?

Knives in Hens continues at Coal Mine Theatre until October 13; advance tickets available online. Please note the 7:30 p.m. curtain time for evening performances; matinees are Sundays at 2:00 p.m.

 

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Sacrifices, stories & souls in Soulpepper’s startling, lyrical, theatrical Idomeneus

Michelle Monteith, Stuart Hughes and Jakob Ehman. Set, video and lighting design by Lorenzo Savoini. Costume design by Gillian Gallow. Photo by Cylla von Tiedeman.

 

Soulpepper Theatre takes us on a turbulent, soul-wrenching homecoming journey in its production of Roland Schimmelpfennig’s Idomeneus, translated by David Tushingham, and directed by Alan Dilworth with assistance from Gregory Prest. Idomeneus is currently running in the Michael Young Theatre at the Young Centre in Toronto’s Distillery District.

The 10-year long Trojan War is over and Idomeneus, King of Crete (Stuart Hughes), is on his way home with his fleet of 80 ships; exhausted, battle-bruised and too long separated from loved ones. So close and so far, they are beset by a terrible storm that takes each ship down one by one. Aboard the last ship afloat, and facing certain death, Idomeneus strikes a bargain with Poseidon: he will sacrifice the first living thing he sees upon his arrival home. He is spared and returns home to the shores of Crete, his ship in tatters.

This is where our journey begins: in a shadow land of conscience, fate and storytelling, of lost souls and conflicting accounts. Which version of the story is true—and which is the version one can live with? Is the first living thing Idomeneus encounters his son Idamantes (Jakob Ehman)? Does he go through with the promised sacrifice? Has his wife Meda (Michelle Monteith) been unfaithful, sharing a lusty bed with an enraged fellow sovereign (Diego Matamoros) bent on punishing betrayal with revenge sex? Version upon version of the stories unfold. What is truth? What is rumour? What is fake news?

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Michelle Monteith, Jakob Ehman, Frank Cox-O’Connell and Idomeneus Chorus. Set, video and lighting design by Lorenzo Savoini. Costume design by Gillian Gallow. Photo by Jose John.

Combining storytelling, movement and choral work to create a collage of scenes and variations on scenes, the dark and eerie edge of this tale is highlighted with startling sound (Debashis Sinha) and lighting design, and haunting projected shadow images (Lorenzo Savoini), relieved by moments of dark comedy. The contemporary costuming (Gillian Gallow) is both muted and ghost-like; and the set, with its cracked stone wall and dark earth floor evokes both an ancient place and no place (Lorenzo Savoini).

Beautiful, haunting and compelling work from the ensemble in this unsettling and poetic drama: Akosua Amo-Adem, Alana Bridgewater, Courtney Ch’ng Lancaster, Laura Condlln, Frank Cox-O’Connell, Jakob Ehman, Kyra Harper, Stuart Hughes, Diego Matamoros and Michelle Monteith.

And, whether Idomeneus goes through with the sacrifice of his son or not, will it have the same outcome? And will he have to pay with his own life regardless of which path he chooses?

Idomeneus continues in the Michael Young Theatre at the Young Centre. Get advance tickets online or call the box office: 416-866-8666 / 1-888-898-1188.