A Shaw Thing
There I was in Ontario, Canada, getting ready to see eight plays in
56 hours, my own personal idea of heaven on earth. Here’s how it played out
at the Shaw Festival on Niagara-on-the-Lake:
The Importance of Being Earnest (2pm at the Royal George Theatre)
To paraphrase Tolstoy’s famous Anna Karenina remark, all
productions that I’ve seen of Earnest have resembled one another, so
what a pleasure to find a different one. Christopher Newton didn’t
direct the piece with a wink, so I didn’t dare blink lest I miss something in this
very real production. True, Algernon’s David Leyshon was still an airy fop,
but Evan Buliung’s Jack was much more grounded than the usual Mr. Worthing, making for a nice orchestration of characters. Better still, Lady Bracknell wasn’t remotely a battle-axe; Goldie Semple instead reminded me of Michele Pawk. How nice to see a Miss Prism (Brigitte Robinson) who genuinely loves Cecily, portrayed here by Diana Donnelly, a big galoomping woman; this was apt, for by Cecily’s ownadmission, she is “unusually tall.” Reverend Chausible wasn’t merely a silly fuddy-duddy, though Bernard Behrens’ face — a chubbier, rounder version of
Christopher Plummer’s — beamed with pride when he said he had a sermon that could be adapted to suit any occasion. And though many productions of Earnest save a salary by casting the same actor to portray butler Lane in Act I and butler Merriman in Act II, leave it to the Shaw Festival to pay two actors
(Robert Benson and Guy Bannerman) in order to better replicate two different
households. Finally, when Cecily told Ernest — err, Jack — that “We’ve been
engaged since February 14,” I had to wonder if Wilde chose that line because the
play opened on that date in 1895. How did I know the date? I read it in the informative notes that the Shaw Festival puts in its programs. As theatergoer Steve Westcott wondered, “Why can’t we have notes like these in our programs in America?”
Man and Superman (8pm at the Festival Theatre)
Assistant director Andrew Freund mentioned in his pre-show chat (which happens before each production at this house) that Don Juan in Hell, the oft-performed-alone Act III of this play, began the festival in 1962, so the Shaw has come full circle with this one. Not that they’re doing Don Juan at the moment; Man and Superman is three-and-a-half hours without it. But, back in June and July, they did insert the Don for 12 performances, making for a five-hour night. Wish I’d been there then, for this Man and Superman was riveting — especially Ben Carlson’s Jack Tanner, a hairy hound who looked as if he were just about to sing “…but let a woman in your life.” Once again, the Festival shone in giving theatergoers the option to see the whole show or “only” three-fourths of it.
Harlequinade (11:30am at the Royal George)
Arthur and Maud Gosport are in a provincial English town, rehearsing the title roles of Romeo and Juliet, even though both have passed 40th birthdays.
Rattigan’s sly comment on the way age is irrelevantly (and erroneously)
treated in Shakespeare is topped off by Arthur’s learning that when he
played this town decades ago, he fathered a girl — who has just mothered his
grandson. What hilarity when the pram was proudly produced as Arthur (the
sublime Peter Hutt) cried, “Why couldn’t this have happened when I was
playing Lear?” Anyway, how many actors would you expect in a lunchtime
one-act? I had assumed that this Terence Rattigan play would be a two-hander, so
imagine my astonishment to see 15 actors on stage. I’m telling you, the Shaw Festival doesn’t scrimp.
Ah, Wilderness! (2pm at the Court House Theatre)
I always list this play among the masterpieces of Eugene O’Neill Granted, it’s no Long Day’s Journey or Iceman, but in the seven productions I’ve seen since 1967, this 1932 comedy has never failed to please its audience. Yes, it takes place almost 100 years ago — but brothers and sisters still get on each other’s nerves, older brothers still think they’re hot stuff, and young boys still must go through rites of passage where drinking and sex are concerned. That laughter I always hear greeting this play is definitely the laughter of recognition, though the biggest laugh during the Shaw Festival production was one I’d never heard before: It came when the mother (the excellent Wendy Thatcher) was scandalized by the salacious book collection of her son Richard (the perfect Jared Brown) because it included “a play by George Bernard Shaw.”
Floyd Collins (8 pm at the Court House)
Whenever I’ve seen this show Off-Broadway or in regional theater, Floyd has been seen all performance long — off to the side, immobile, trapped in his cave. That way, we never forget about him. But here, director Eda Holmes decided to put him on a movable set piece that slid on when he sang and off when he wasn’t part of the action. This worked, because part of the show’s message is that people gradually start to forget about Floyd and get caught up in the media circus. Here’s the thing: We did, too, making us feel ashamed when he was suddenly wheeled on again in agony. Meanwhile, the set looked as if it were made of rock that had been split down its side, allowing us to see all of its strata. But on closer examination, these were piled-up newspapers that served as rock — and also served to remind us of all the newspapers sold during Floyd’s captivity. Kudos to designer William Shmuck for thinking of that.
The Tinker’s Wedding (11:30am at the Court House)
Repertory allows theatergoers the chance to know an actor in one play, and express delight to see him in another. David Leyshon, Algernon in Earnest, played the dour title role in this one-acter that John Millington Synge wrote 99 years ago but couldn’t get produced. Soon after the play began, I realized that, if it had been staged back then, Synge probably would have been arrested and sentenced to 99 years. We see a tinker named Michael making his own wedding ring with all the enthusiasm that Jesus showed when he was forced to make the cross on which he’d be crucified. His fiancée, Sarah, wants to get married and the poor soul doesn’t know how to get out of it, now that he’s promised her. But what a harridan she already is! Michael’s only hope is that he doesn’t have enough money to pay the priest’s fee for marrying them — and, indeed, the cleric refuses to perform the service unless he gets paid. Not quite what one expects of a Catholic priest, but Synge was just getting started. Soon Sarah’s mother comes on, and she turns out to be a big, hulking lush (played here by the fabulous Nora McLellan). She and Sarah bind and gag the priest after Mom has sexually harrassed him. Who knew that Synge was the turn-of-the-century Joe Orton?
Three Men on a Horse (2pm at the Festival)
Again, I was impressed how the Festival cast against type. The role of Erwin Trowbridge, a meek little poet who can predict horse race winners but would never actually dare to bet money on them, is usually played by a diminutive man. Actor Kevin Bundy is tall and lanky — not that this meant he couldn’t be meek, too. (To be sure, the nasal voice he adopted helped.) I ruefully anticipated the hoary joke where Erwin keeps absent-mindedly putting spoonful after spoonful of sugar into his coffee, then tastes and grimaces; so I was delightfully surprised when he then added another spoonful, took a sip, and nodded because now it was J-U-U-S-T right. So was the entire production.
Nothing Sacred (8 pm at the Festival)
I’d forgotten how impressed I was with this George F. Walker play when I saw it Off-Broadway in 1992. It’s an adaptation of Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, set in 1859 — 58 years before the Russian Revolution. But the seeds of the revolution are being sown. We see the old guard, represented by the effete, impudent snob Pavel (Benedict Campbell), going head-to-head with the young turk Bazarov. The latter role was played by Mike Shara, and his virile, swaggering, world-by-the-tail attitude was the performance of the Festival in my view. My fellow theatergoers Steve Westcott, Jamie Whitfield, and B.J. DeSimone came out of the theater amazed that this was the same guy who’d played the mealy-mouthed, under-the-thumb child in that afternoon’s Rutherford and Son. “You must see it,” they insisted — but, alas, I had to return home. I long ago came to terms with the fact that, where theater is concerned, “You can’t see ’em all,” but the Shaw Festival makes this fact of life all the more painful.
On my way back to my bed-and-breakfast, I passed by the Shaw Café, which features a statue of GBS neatly positioned in a wishing well. I took out all my Canadian change and tossed it in. My wish was that all of you could go to the Shaw Festival. Some of you still can, through December 4.
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[To contact Peter Filichia directly, e-mail him at pfilichia@theatermania.com]
