By Caleigh Crow
Invasive Species is a story told by Junior, a tall, confident man in a white suit, who is trying to protect America from a scourge of cane toads that he feels have utterly infested his most beloved homeland. He’s on a train headed to his Floridian hometown to meet Big Bertha, the biggest baddest cane toad around, mother to the entire species, and malefactor of Junior’s personal tragedy. It seems like a noble enough cause until it’s revealed that Junior’s method of protecting America from cane toads involves a lot (a LOT) of highly addictive and deadly hallucinogens, a power drill, and good old-fashioned blood-lust. It’s an ecological thriller-horror story and powerful satirical statement on anti-immigration rhetoric rolled into one sweaty, furious, swampy fireball performance.
The play is written and performed by Gabriel Schultz, who is bringing the show back after a successful run at this year’s St Ambroise Montreal FRINGE Festival where it won the Frankie Award for Making Big Things Happen in Small Places, so it’s only fitting that the remount of the show will run at the Freestanding Room this week.
“The audience thinks they’re sitting on board a train with this southern gentleman, but then Junior starts ranting about America’s most dangerous illegal residents,” Gabriel says with a laugh, “and I remember feeling people in the audience reeling until he says it’s the cane toad. There’s a bit of a sigh of relief.” Invasive Species raises important questions about who we consider the ‘other’ and how reactionary movements can divert valuable energy and resources from alleviating structural inequalities. “Junior has been completely ripped off by the system, for lack of a better term, but he’s taking it out on the wrong people. He’s been destroyed by so many different things, but his energy is focused in the wrong place,” Gabriel explains.
Gabriel first wrote the show for a playwrighting course at Concordia University, who had a yen to combine his passion for biology and conservation, his one-time career of choice, with theatre. “I’ve always wanted to create that show,” he says, “but I also wanted it to be a show that would absorb the political climate of North America today.”
The play is firmly situated in the American South, with Gabriel performing with the appropriate accent. “I love the good parts of the American south, not just the good geographic points, though I think there is a lot of beauty there,” Gabriel says. “I knew that I wanted to play with a specific language and cadence because the fury that comes out of Southern people is scary but it’s very musical at the same time.” What comes to mind is the righteous anger of the Southern televangelist preacher, or champion of justice Martin Luther King Jr at his most fervent. Gabriel also credits the Southern states for their storytelling abilities, saying the art form is “really embraced in that part of the world.” He continues, “Whether it’s a light fairy tale or a raging revenge story it’s always going to come out musical and powerful.”
The production is moving from their FRINGE venue, which Gabriel describes as “coffee-table” sized, to the Freestanding Room. While the new venue is certainly bigger than a piece of living room furniture, it is still categorically (and affectionately) intimate. I glean from Gabriel that the result will be to have the audience members more immersed in the show – though it isn’t an immersive piece of theatre. “There will be space for me to move around and feel as if the audience are sitting on the train rather than sitting in the theatre watching a man on a train,” Gabriel predicts, and mentions a few other challenges of staging the show in yet another small space. “I think we can embrace that,” assures Gabriel, optimistically, “The functions of the play are very topsy-turvy. What’s interesting about the space is absorbing the challenges and putting it into the environment that comes out of Invasive Species.”
I want to leave you with my favourite thought from Gabriel, describing Junior, but also is an apt summation of Invasive Species: “He really embodies how I see that part of the world, which is a very sympathetic and beautiful place, but it can be disgusting and scary at the same time, and all of it clumped together in a weird sweaty seven-layer cake.”
Invasive Species runs from November 16 – 25 at the Freestanding Room. For more information and ticketing details please click here.
by Caleigh Crow
“From what I’m seeing from the actors, it’s truthful, it’s unbearably truthful. It’s really hard to watch,” says Dale Hayes of her production, “It’s like watching a car accident, you want to look away, but you can’t.”
It’s odd to promote one’s work by declaring it hard to watch, but given the production, it is fitting. Dale is the artistic director of d² productions, whose latest, Late Company by Jordan Tannahill, is as unsettling as it is commonplace. Inspired by a real-life Canadian case of homophobia and cyberbullying pushed to its most tragic end, the play takes place at the Shaun-Hastings’ residence, a home permeated with grief. Debora and Michael Shaun-Hastings’ son, Joel, took his own life after a series of increasingly violent and homophobic encounters with his classmates both online and in school. The Shaun-Hastings have invited one of these classmates, Joel, and his parents, Bill and Tamara Dermot, over for what is supposed to be an evening of reconciliation that, even in this synopsis, is plainly doomed.
The two families created by playwright Jordan Tannahill are almost vulgarly honest representations, and they tend to poke at parts of North American cultural foibles we’d like to think we’ve left behind in favour of an inclusive future. Bill and Tamara Dermot exhibit behaviours that would make any millennial worth their salt cringe – strict adherence to ‘traditional’ familial and gender roles underlie Bill’s philosophy, and Tamara’s kindness is superficial at best, something she has in common with Debora, but that’s where the commonality ends. While a certain defensive tone underscores Tamara’s dialogue, Debora’s white-hot rage is barely contained by her polite conversation, while surly Curtis and Michael, a conservative politician, just want the evening to come to a quick conclusion, regardless of resolution, for their own sakes. None of the five want to be pinned with anything, and they’ve all got their reasons for doing and saying what they do. They’re playing everyone’s favourite dinner party game ‘Who’s to Blame For Joel’s Death’ and of course there can be no winners here.
The story is brought to life by a cast of five and being truthful on stage is that much more challenging when your character is less than admirable, though it is a sign of great writing. According to Dale, the key to portraying characters is to “justify everything that comes out of their mouths” even if it’s somewhat distasteful because “the script is so truthful.”
The Late Company cast features Helena Levitt, Sterling Mawhinney, Anthony Schuller, Leigh Ann Taylor, and Nick Walker, minted Montreal performers all. Dale says of her cast, “I have great actors who have great instincts. They are so wonderful, they did their research, they understand their characters, the relationships. These are five very different characters and they’ve developed them fully.”
Dale deliberately chose a small and intimate venue, the MiniMain at MainLine Theatre, and the actors responded accordingly. “Once they got into that room and they realised there’s only 43 seats,” Dale explains, “you can really see the spit coming out of their mouths now. It’s almost like film, because you’re so close.”
The themes of the play will be both familiar and challenging to anyone, across identities and circumstances. As a former educator, I know these issues are played out in schools and online in Canada every day. When it comes to young people suffering, we’d all like easy answers and a concrete solution, but the reality of solving this crisis is very complicated, and as an honest play, there aren’t many answers to be found in Late Company. This is one of the strengths of the show. “Don’t expect a resolution,” cautions Dale, “nothing important can be resolved in an hour and a half.”
So, what can the audience expect? “I’m just hoping that for an hour and a half the audience are engaged, interested, and surprised, pleased, and they want to start a conversation, they want to talk about this,” Dale says.
In the program, audience members can find Canadian statistics and resources that underscore the need for this play today, and the need for conversation and action around these issues. “I’m hoping the audience will go home and kiss their kid, call their mother, call their brother – even if they’ve never had any experiences with bullying, I hope they’ll just be touched by the play.” She continues, “To think that these people – inspired by a true story – it’s real. This really happens. I want people to understand that it’s real life, and it’s happening around us, and they have to take action.”
Our conversation turns emotional when I ask Dale where hope is to be found in this play, if anywhere. She mentions a quote from Anne Frank’s diary: “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.” She pauses and allows the thought to flutter above our heads. “That just makes me want to cry,” she says, and follows her train of thought. “What causes a person to do these things? Why are some kids mean and some kids not mean? Or are we all mean, and we just have to learn not to be?” While there might not be room for a resolution in Late Company, revelation is possible for both the audience and the characters. Dale sums it up thus, “I really do believe that people are good, we just have to ask ourselves, what is my good?”
One of the places d² productions has found their good is in the work they do, and Dale has a lot to say about the privilege of being a theatre maker. “I’m so grateful for what we do, I’m so grateful for being able to create work for actors in Montréal, and I’m grateful that we are able to put on a play and have people come with their hard-earned cash to pay to come and see us,” Dale says. “What a privilege and a responsibility that is, and none of us take that lightly. You can’t have an off night because there’s someone there who paid their $15.” With low ticket prices, Dale is hoping to encourage people who have never seen a play before to give live theatre a chance. She very aptly notes, “Unless you’ve seen a play, you don’t know what a play is. The magic of walking into a theatre and just being there in the moment and watching these people spit out their dialogue and their emotions – it’s wonderful, I hope that we can get more people interested in theatre by keeping our prices low.”
Late Company is playing at MainLine Theatre until November 19. For a more detailed schedule and ticketing information – the show has been selling out so get your tickets in advance! – click here.
The Quebec Drama Federation presents a roundtable discussion with six of the artists working on Imago Theatre’s upcoming play festival, Her Side of the Story: Revision to Resist.
- Jen Viens, lead actor in What Happened After Nora Left Her Husband
- Tamara Brown, director of The Last Wife and lead actor in Fucking A
- Jen Quinn, director of The Penelopiad
- Gabriel Maharjan, actor in The Last Wife
- Oliver Koomsatira, actor in Fucking A
- Kathleen Stavert, actor in The Last Wife From
From October 31 to November 5 at Centaur Theatre, Imago Theatre will present Her Side of the Story: Revision to Resist, a festival of performances, encounters and exchange around women who revision known narratives to reclaim Her Side of the Story from the footnotes.
Tickets are $20 or $15 for students/artists/seniors or Pay-What-You-Decide at the door. Tickets can be purchased by calling the Centaur Box Office at 514-288-3161 or online at centaurtheatre.com
By Caleigh Crow
“We don’t think of the Greeks as musical theatre,” says Joseph Shragge, “even though the choruses were sung and danced to.”
Joseph sits across from me at the ubiquitous wooden table that dominates the Quebec Drama Federation’s main meeting space. It’s a large table, long, darker in color; the varnish on it lovingly dyed by the consequence of hands and light on its surface. It’s expansive and weighty. As far as ubiquity goes, I know my dear table would be obliterated by the might of the three choirs portraying the Chorus in Scapegoat Carnivale Theatre’s production, Oedipus Part One: Assembly.
Joseph adapted the text from Lynn Kozak, a professor of classics at McGill University, who wrote the direct translation. It was while Joseph was working with Lynn on the script that something struck Joseph that would eventually lead to the involvement of the choirs. Joseph explains, “Oedipus opens with a mass movement of people supplicating, not just at King Oedipus’ palace gates, but all throughout the city. There’s one line that indicates others are at the marketplace and by the river, and I asked Lynn about it. ‘What do you mean there’s others? Other groups?’ She said yes, throughout the city. I had never thought of that before.”
If you’re familiar with classical Greek plays, you know the inclusion of the chorus can be a hurdle to a creative team, and for Joseph it was no exception. For the Oedipus team, it made sense to “think of the Greeks as musical theatre”. Joseph tells me that in a certain headspace, the question wasn’t how to portray the Chorus, but what even is the Chorus? “It’s like a poem, but if you think of it as a song, it works dramatically so much better than having people chant,” he says. “I’m hoping that having the chorus sung will add a magical dimension to it.”
Before the production reached this point, Joseph, Lynn, and dramaturg Anthony Kennedy, had been working on the script in conjunction with director Andreas Apergis, who translated the first quarter of the play before Lynn took over. The entire writing process has persisted over two years. “It’s really closer to translation in many ways,” Joseph says. “The impulse is to tear it apart and do something contemporary, and I’ve done that on other projects, and for some reason with Andreas we’ve always come back to thinking, this stuff is really interesting, the scenes are so rich.” Joseph laughs, “It’s better than what we could come up with, so we just keep tinkering and tinkering away at these sentences.”
Joseph notes that working on the script for so long has made him a little numb to some of the extremes of the play (in a word: incest), especially compared to other classical works. “It’s not like we’re all walking around worried about being accidentally married to our own mothers,” he says bluntly. “It’s so particular, that I don’t even know what kind of feelings that should engender in anyone. It’s a more difficult tragedy because we don’t relate to Oedipus the same way we do to Medea or Clytemnestra, or those power imbalances that are much more accessible.” So, how will audiences connect with the play? Joseph responds, “It begins with a horrible plague, a city in turmoil, that’s easy to understand. The cause of this is a murder, and we have to find the murderer. Now we go into this mystery then we just keep getting all these strange turns. All these turns start to relate back to the initial problem. It becomes this horror detective story.”
If it’s a translation then, it comes with all the quirks of trying to extract meaning from a highly representational art form: language. Joseph recounts the challenges that arose from trying to decipher two words: ‘the same’. In the scene, Oedipus is speaking with Tiresias, whose translated line ‘You’re speaking against the order of the cosmos, so speak no more, and spare me suffering the same’ had Joseph in a tizzy. “What’s the same? There’s certain ways if you order the sentence it seems like it makes sense, but why the same? The same suffering? It means Tiresias is outside the cosmic order or…” he shakes his head. “There’s a lot of that.”
I glean that Joseph is fond of Tiresias (who doesn’t love a blind prophet), from his care in determining what’s ‘the same’, and that he and I agree casting Leni Parker in that role is inspired. When asked what scene he’s most excited to see brought to life, Joseph answers “When Tiresias comes out and tells Oedipus you’re the pollution – and oh my god, that word…” he pauses to think about it. “For now, it’s pollution. But it could be contagion,” he can’t help himself, he’s a writer. He continues, “When Tiresias comes out and says you’re the cause of this plague, it’s such a powerful attack, revelation. That character has so much ferocity, and that is Leni Parker, and I know she’s going to excel.”
As our conversation continues, my once grandiose meeting table now seems increasingly diminutive. There are so many performers, singers, actors, and writers on board, each bringing their own artistry to this massive show. We have Choeur Maha, Zakynthines Phones Choir, and The Montreal Artists Choir bringing a towering presence to the role of the chorus. There’s an impressive cast, including Leni Parker, Chip Chuipka, Alison Darcy, and Mike Payette to name a few. Sophocles and a crack team of writers, translators, and dramaturgs, present us with a berserk plot built around a horror-murder mystery that intensifies to a dreadful, frightful, excellent climax– it’s oh so Greek.
Oedipus Part One: Assembly is playing from October 20 – 22 at the Centaur Theatre. Opening night is already sold out! Hurry and get your tickets by calling the Centaur box office at (514) 288-3161. For more information, check out Scapegoat Carnivale’s website here.
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