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Major Barbara by Bernard Shaw,
directed by Helena Kaut-Howson
April 16 to November 1
Festival Theatre The Lady's Not for Burning by Christopher Fry,
directed by Christopher Newton
May 6 to September 27
Court House Theatre The Shop at Sly Corner by Edward Percy,
directed by Joseph Ziegler
April 15 to October 31
Royal George Theatre You Can't Take It with You by Kaufman and Hart,
directed by Neil Muro
May 2 to November 1
Festival Theatre A weekend at Shaw
A Stage Door Review by Roger Kershaw and Jim Lingerfelt
A weekend with Shaw is always the first celebration of the arrival of summer, as there is perhaps no better place in Canada to enjoy a taste of that too-short season than at Niagara-on-the-Lake and with the Shaw Festival. We've been going there for years and are perhaps a little immune to the appeal of NOTL's main street of quaint shops. Famous now for its fudge and fridge magnets, the street still manages to tempt us into an extra calorie or knickknack we didn't really need but couldn't resist. We like to browse, too, to see if the Niagara Bookshop's volumes are still as forbiddingly wrapped in cellophane, and if the Theatre Store's coffee mugs are still as overpriced as we remember (both situations firmly in place - sought but unbought).
What we have found even more irresistible is The Bridge -- that Queenston checkpoint between 1812 and 1998 that separates the tightly controlled merchandising of NOTL (no chain stores or franchises allowed!) from the wide-open commercialism of the 150-store Niagara Outlet Centre. The complete trip, from Festival Theatre to Outlet Heaven, is under 30 minutes, even with a modest holdup on the bridge, making it an easy jaunt between matinee and evening performances (NOTL closes their shops at 6pm or earlier!).
But it is just a jaunt, between the main attractions of any weekend in NOTL: the unparalleled excellence on the three stages of the Shaw Festival. Nominated for 20 Stage Door Awards last year (and winner of three), the Shaw Festival is second only to the equally esteemed Stratford Festival in audience popularity. Shaw's artistic director of nearly two decades, Christopher Newton, goes for more than popularity, however, with his selections of works contemporary with the life of George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950).
Each season holds, among its dozen or so productions, a fair share of proven audience-winners, a major musical, a whodunit (or more often, a Willy Getawaywitit), and a sprinkling of obscure pieces that have, for one reason or another, not been performed as often as Newton realizes they should.
Then a company of artists (the second-largest repertory company in North America) goes to work on them, breathing fresh life and new meaning in Victorian mores and the coming of the modern age. Moreover, while every production is unique, splendid, uncompromising, there is always something comfortably familiar about the Shaw's mixed-bag-of-tricks. The company of actors, for example, is largely the same as it has been for years; new faces are welcome, but rare. The sets, always beautiful and meticulously detailed, are usually inviting sitting rooms and cluttered back offices - never a shocking array of mirror shards and minimalist suggestions that rival Stratford does so well.
Our first weekend at Shaw included four of this year's eleven offerings, sampling everything except the Big Musical (A Foggy Day, a posthumous collaboration of George & Ira Gershwin and P.G. Wodehouse). Saturday we took in the season's big number and Festival Theatre showpiece, Bernard Shaw's Major Barbara, then to the intimate Courthouse Theatre production of the fringier medieval piece by Christopher Fry, The Lady's Not for Burning. Sunday greeted us with a matinee mystery in the Royal George Theatre by Edward Percy, The Shop at Sly Corner, and we closed out the weekend back at the Festival Theatre for the rollicking comedy by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart, You Can't Take It with You. Our instant scoreboard: 3 for 4. A winning average in any book.
Major Barbara
Major Barbara, written in 1905 by the Festival's namesake, is a witty and wise discourse on politics, arms, greed and poverty; indeed, one might say it encompasses the gamut of Shaw's philosophical views of his world. Major Barbara (Kelli Fox) is a young woman who has joined the Salvation Army and works tirelessly in its East End shelters to help the poor. She is joined in this work by Adolphus Cusins (Richard Binsley), a young professor of Greek, who admits he has joined he Army only because he is in love with Barbara. Barbara's estranged father, Andrew Undershaft (Jim Mezon), is one of Europe's richest munitions manufacturers and practices the "religion of capitalism." As the play begins, her mother (Sharry Flett) has summoned Undershaft to meet his grown children. Barbara and Cusins are intrigued by the wealthy Undershaft, who is not the devil incarnate they had expected him to be. Barbara dares her father to visit her at her East End shelter, and he accepts -- on condition that family visit his armaments factory.
This Shavian extravaganza is famous for its heavy-handed themes of poverty and propriety but director Helena Kaut-Howson ensures the comedy shines without detracting from the social issues the playwright explores. The depth of festival talent is evident here, with Fox displaying her brilliance and painting marvelous colours with Shaw's prodigious palette. Binsley, always a delight, plays her admirer to charming effect, quickly winning over Barbara, and the audience. The surprise of the evening is Flett's marvelous interpretation of Lady Britomart Undershaft (with a name like that, the role couldn't be serious). She has a blast with the haughty, self-absorbed mother-from-hell in a role that is her best in years. Mezon tries hard as her estranged husband but we found little depth in the interpretation and his uneven accent creates further problems for this Shaw stalwart.
Designer William Schmuck uses the Festival Theatre turntable to great effect with his creative set, especially in the marching band sequences. His remarkable sets convey a world turned akimbo by the realities of life. The combined talents in Major Barbara ensure a wonderfully entertaining result of this humorous, yet socially thought-provoking discourse on British values in the thirties.
The Lady's Not for Burning
The enthusiasm generated by such an attractive Barbara was not sustained during the next play: The Lady's Not for Burning, written by Christopher Fry (hailed as the 20th century's Shakespeare), which premiered in 1948. It's billed as a romantic comedy set in a kind of storybook middle ages, in England. Into the mayor's house bursts cynical ex-soldier Thomas Mendip (Simon Bradbury), claiming to have killed a pedlar and demanding to be hanged. Meanwhile, other events have already turned the house upside down. The mayor's two nephews (Jason Dietrich and Johnathan Watton) are fighting over which of them will marry the beautiful, young Alizon (Fiona Byrne). Outside, local citizens are demanding the execution of a young woman, Jennet Jourdemayne (Ann Baggley), who they claim is a witch.
The action is set at a frenzied pace by director Christopher Newton, too frenzied, in fact, to develop a "love story for the ages." Instead, we are subjected to harried soliloquies and discourse on...who knows? We can't develop any sympathy for the characters in this production, unlike in others where the director has the lovers' relationship evolving more slowly and with a depth not seen here. Indeed, one neighbour was heard to say, "The Lady may not be for burning...but the play is." The two saving graces are the actors' actor, Bradbury, creating another interesting character to place on his bulging résumé, and the always-weighty presence of Patricia Hamilton, playing the Mayor's sister. (Roger Rowland, who plays the Mayor, is completely swamped by the talent around him and drowns in the act.) We have no fear that Newton's reputation for excellence will be adversely affected by one or two lesser efforts, but we expected more of his normally wonderful touches in this unique play -- a play that could either be a successful romp or a touching love story, but instead has become a disappointing showcase for another of designer Leslie Frankish's beautiful sets and splendid period costumes.
The Shop at Sly Corner
After the doldrums of the Burning, the yearly whodunit beckoned, although this year's opus is more psychological study than murder mystery. Its story, however, is no less entertaining and engrossing.
The Shop at Sly Corner, by Edward Percy, premièred in 1941 (a Broadway production in 1949 starred Boris Karlof). In 1930s London, a gruff, but lovable old jeweller named Descius Heiss (Michael Ball) runs a small antique store that supports him, his daughter (Fiona Byrne), and his sister (Maralyn Ryan). His daughter is engaged to Robert Graham (Simon Bradbury), a successful merchant marine doctor, and Descius couldn't be happier. That is, until shop assistant Archie Fellowes (Jonathan Watton) overhears a secret that sets in motion a chain of events that can only end in tragedy. The nature of the crime and the identity of the guilty party are revealed fairly early in the play, so the real interest lies in discovering what drives characters to violent crime, and what kinds of consequences arise.
Star of the show is the design by David Boechler who creates an antique shop that we wish we had time and license to browse -- it's that real. Combined with Bonnie Beecher's moody lighting, director Joseph Ziegler creates a time and place not soon forgotten. The acting forces presented to Ziegler don't disappoint either, with Ball his blustering, bombastic self, but this time with a softer edge. Scenes with Byrne were warmly effective while Bradbury's proper and correct doctor is oh-so-veddy British, and with arguably the most perfect accent and inflections these Anglos have even seen on stage. Can this guy do nothing wrong? The Shop is so delightfully different and enjoyable, it can be appreciated by everyone.
You Can't Take It with You
There is much in a weekend adventure in NOTL that you can't take home with you (and much you wouldn't want to!), but with our funny bones were tickled so much by the last play of our weekend, You Can't Take It with You, by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart, we laughed throughout the play, and all the way home. You Can't is justifiably one of the best-loved and most-produced comedies of the American theatre. It tells the story of an eccentric family who believes in living life to the fullest. Father (Peter Millard) manufactures fireworks in the basement, mother (Mary Haney) writes plays because a typewriter was delivered to the house by mistake, daughter Essie (Jenny L. Wright) dances and trips around the house in a tutu while her husband Ed (Douglas E. Hughes) plays the xylophone and runs a printing press in the middle of the living room. They are a weird, but happy bunch.
When daughter Alice falls in love with the straitlaced son (Mike Shara) of a millionaire, a clash of lifestyle and philosophy could spell disaster for the two lovebirds. Hysterical hijinks coupled with some truly bittersweet moments confirm this play as one of the most enjoyable ever presented on the Shaw stage. Director Neil Munro (whose work, admittedly, we have yet to review positively) does a marvelous job creating a bunch of bizarrely wonderful characters. The play premièred on Broadway in 1936, won a Pulitzer Prize, and is still considered on of the great comedies of the century. The play's theme is implied in its title: life is short, material riches are transitory, and one should live by those values that make life most worth living. The conversion of the conventional Kirbys to this irresistible logic provides the play with some of its most touching moments, and some of its best laughs, too.
Haney (1997 Stage Door Award winner for Will Any Gentleman?) provides scatterbrained charm aplenty as the dim, yet lovable mother, while Wright dances and stumbles into our hearts, and Shara's Tony Kirby is as pure and refreshing as one can get. Stratford vet Lewis Gordon, now treading the Shaw boards, shows why he was revered at the other festival, as his character of Grandfather provides the single voice of solid reason in the zany Sycamore household. Providing strong support are Norman Browning and Jillian Cook as Mr and Mrs Kirby, and the always-hysterical Neil Barclay as Russian-immigrant dance teacher, Boris Kolenkhov.
A wonderful start to a promising season. Major Barbara and You Can't Take It with You play till November 1, The Shop at Sly Corner runs till October 31, and The Lady's Not For Burning sputters to a close on September 27. Phone 1-800-511-SHAW for tickets. |
