✭✭✭✭✩ / ✭✭✩✩✩

by Jean Cocteau, translated by John Murrell /

by Nicolas Billon, directed by Jim Warren

Stratford Festival, Studio Theatre, Stratford

August 21-September 26, 2004

"Lovely Voice, Silly Song"

The double-bill that has opened at the Studio Theatre pairs Jean Cocteau’s “The Human Voice”, a classic of its kind, with a brand-new Canadian work, “The Elephant Song”, by Nicolas Billon.  While the Cocteau is a great success, especially in the new translation by John Murrell, the Billon is unconvincing and derivative.

“The Human Voice” (“La Voix humaine”) is one of the first plays to demonstrate that new technologies of communication do not necessarily improve the quality of communication.  For 45 minutes we watch the play’s sole character the Woman (“Elle” in the original) converse over a party line with the man who has just dumped her after a five-year relationship.  The ex-lover phones to arrange the return of his love letters and gloves, but for the Woman, this is her last chance to feel some connection to the man she still loves.  Sue LePage’s stylish set shows a modish bedroom in complete disarray giving the lie to the Woman’s frequent assurances that she is “strong”.  She attempts to convince the man on the other end that she is as matter-of-fact about their break-up as he is, but the unpacked love-letters, the unburnt sketches, the towels in a basin of water all demonstrate that for her the loss of her beloved is a tragedy. 

The telephone may provide the means of communication, but it also allows both sides to lie about themselves more easily.  We see the contradiction between what the Woman says and what we see, but we also learn that the man is not at home but phoning from a restaurant, obviously not at all as destroyed as the Woman.

Metaphorically, Cocteau suggests that all human beings are essentially isolated from each other and that all communication is also a type of acting.  When the Woman twines the telephone cord around her neck to feel the man’s voice surround her, Cocteau suggests that loss of love is an intimation of death.

Lally Cadeau gives a superb performance full of nuance and the Woman’s awareness of the various level of irony of her situation.  She clearly shows how the Woman’s pretense of being “strong” becomes ever more difficult to maintain as she realizes how soon she will never hear her beloved’s voice again.  The performance does not leave you shattered as much as convince you how truthfully the event has been depicted. 

Murrell’s new translation aids this naturalism as does Jim Warren’s direction that makes use of the entire stage area.  Louise Guinand‘s lighting subtly varies with the moods of the Woman, appropriately leaving her isolated in a fading pool of light at the end. 

If only “The Human Voice” were presented as a lunch-time show with a separate admission, I could heartily recommend it.  Unfortunately, it is paired with a substandard work that I cannot recommend.  “The Elephant Song” is Ottawa-born Nicolas Billon’s first play and his inexperience is all too evident.  Not only is this psychiatrist-patient drama highly derivative--a sort of “Equus” with elephants with a definite tinge of “Blue/Orange”--but it is based on a series of improbabilities that make it impossible to take seriously. 

Dr. Lawrence has suddenly disappeared from a psychiatric hospital without giving word to anyone.  Dr. Greenberg, the head of the hospital, and nurse Peterson are worried and Greenberg wants to question a resident patient Michael Aleen, who was the last one to see Dr. Lawrence.  Aleen, however, seems only interested in questions about elephants. 

The entire action including the surprise denouement depend on Dr. Greenberg’s never once glancing at Aleen’s file which lies in view on Lawrence’s desk.  The idea that a doctor would interview another doctor’s patient, especially one who is known to be difficult, without first reviewing that patient’s file is ludicrous.  Yet, only through this lapse can Billon’s drama occur since he wants to work towards Aleen himself telling his rather far-fetched life story.  And Billon does want that trick ending. 

Billon seems to have done research on elephants but none on psychiatric protocol.  This is a hospital where a nurse introduces a patient to a doctor with the phrase “He likes to play games”, a diagnosis she should never say in front of the patient.  Here, too, Dr. Greenberg allows Aleen to give a personal message to Dr. Lawrence over the phone.  But then, this is a hospital where the standards are so lax that when Aleen gave Dr. Lawrence nude photos of himself and declared he was in love with him, Dr. Lawrence did not immediately report it to Dr. Greenberg and transfer Aleen to another doctor.  Not only that, given Aleen’s age of 23 and the passive nature of his “crime”, it’s doubtful he would be in an institution at all.                      

Jim Warren’s urgent direction and the fine performances from the cast do not hide the script’s numerous inconsistencies, but rather make them all the more glaring.  Stephen Ouimette focusses on Greenberg’s growing frustration and Maria Vacratsis adds a nice sense of ambiguity to Peterson‘s attentions to Aleen.  As Aleen, Mac Fyfe shifts between twitchy mental obsession and fairly normal if sometimes emotional rationality.  He makes clear that Mac’s game-playing is motivated by a yearning for attention, but that is not sufficient to convince us Aleen’s insane.  The best part of the show is Barbara Dunn-Prosser’s lovely though unnecessary rendition of “Il mio babbino caro” from Puccini’s “Gianni Schicchi”.

Billon’s writing sounds awkward and unnatural as if it were a poor translation from another language.  Given its combination of unoriginality and internal flaws, it’s a mystery how the play made it through various workshops to the stage.  It is sad that “The Human Voice” should be yoked to Billon’s play since few people will be willing to spend $52.00-$59.48 to see only half of a double bill no matter how good that half is.

©Christopher Hoile

Note: This review is a Stage Door exclusive.

Photo: Lally Cadeau as Elle in The Human Voice. ©2004.