• Photo: Suzanne O’Neill

    Four performers descend the stairs into a mysterious space full of storage crates. Some preliminary flexes with visuals cues you in to the fact that lights are going to be another actor in this show. In vibrant coloured costumes, the characters undertake a journey of discovering the mysterious space. They open one box and then another, interacting with what it revealed before passing to the next. It was nicely paced, starting from small vignettes and then moving to more choreographed dance numbers. At its best children’s theatre is exploratory and sensory in a way adult theatre stops short of and this was very much in that tradition. It was also very Montréal in its blend of physical theatre, dance, contortion, and general multidisciplinary multimedia goodness. It is breathtaking how much skill it takes for a production to come across as this playful. It is an extremely cohesive piece.

    This time I was fortunate enough to see the show with not only Eli, my usual children’s theatre consultant, but also her brother William and my best friend. What was interesting in comparing our experiences was how diverse our interpretations of what happened in the show. We all agreed the performers were playing, exploring and trying things out, but beyond that we disagreed about where it was situated. To me it was the basement of a theatre, but Eli figured it was a warehouse and William was sure it was in their grandparent’s house. Whatever we saw in it, it speaks to the power of their descent into the performance space. There are very few words, but you don’t miss them.

    When I say the lighting stole the show, this is no slight to any of the performers – it was just that good. I’ve never seen another production use lights in such an interactive way where you have people dance with beams and within structures. According to Eli, ““It’s very cool and fun how they used the lights to enhance the story… I honestly don’t know (what it reminded me of) because it was a whole thing of it’s own”. The interactivity gave the show the feel of a video game in which you had to “resolve” problems to move on. This combined well with the kinetic scenes to create something completely one of a kind. It was also hard to get bored because there was always something new and wacky around the corner.

    Both children’s consultants ranked it as “Good”, although Eli specified that she preferred Tad and Birdy. It’s worth mentioning that the two other kids we were with also gave it a thumbs up. What I did notice though was that Eli didn’t have the sense of raw delight in the show that I’ve seen in her before. That also fits with my feelings. This is innovative, skillful, smart and fun, but for me it lacked the emotional core that makes a show really exceptional to watch. I’d almost more recommend it for adults who like physical theatre and non-verbal narratives just because it is so well made and beautifully constructed. Still, if you have a screen addicted youngster this show may just have the right kind of storytelling for this generation. And you get to admire the skillful performances!

    Besides, as William said: “anything is better than doom scrolling”.

  • Photographer: Joey Senft (@jsenftphotography)

    Pictured: Laura Olafson, Arne MacPherson, Gislina Patterson, Honey Pham

    In the intimacy of a woman’s living room, she (Laura Olafson) receives an all important phone call. The writer of an advice column she loves is leaving for other things and wants her to take over as “Sugar”. In spite of the fact she doesn’t get paid and has countless other obligations to deliver on, she says yes. This opened up my first question, which was what terrible publication is profiting on the free emotional labour and well, labour, of this woman. Not to mention where are these heartfelt anonymous messages coming from. Nevertheless, the rest of the production takes the form of a variety of letters to and from Sugar, delivered by Arne McPherson, Ghislina Patterson and Honey Pham as various anonymous writers. The movement is fluid, the emotion is real and the performances are incredibly solid. Laura Olafson in particular gives a soulful performance of a woman who is just trying to help in spite of her chaos, and is painfully aware of the limitations she is under.

    The choreography and staging of this show kept your eye engaged and interested. The costuming kept your eye centered on Sugar without making her too distinctively alien from her correspondents. As Sugar answers questions, she does household chores in the intimacy of the home. The letter writers are treated as guests she is inviting into her home and addressing directly. This device worked well to capture the intimacy of the interaction between strangers. It also allowed Sugar to speak from her own place of truth on her own, as she essentially imagines these readers she will never know.

    This exploration of intimacy between strangers was effective, but I found that I wanted something to break up the pace. The way it’s set up right now, Sugar is just the Wisest (White) Woman Ever (TM). Her responses are well planned, articulate, and blend personal experience with hard won common sense. She is often poetic, always empathetic, and she hands down gets all the best lines. Her correspondents mostly treat her with reverence and deep respect. Which is where it fell for me a little. I would have loved to her the replies to her letters so see how these dialogues continued.

    For me, the script is the weakest part of this production, much as it was in RMTC’s The Last Wife. The staging was fabulous, the performances were great, costumes and set were intelligent and well considered, and it hits some serious emotional notes. Unfortunately, the rhythm of “letter read, letter answered” was never broken up. When it hit well, the quiet intimacy was thoughtful and meditative. When it didn’t, it was plodding and repetitive. Add to which, I found that the letters chosen were relatively uncontroversial ones where there is reasonable social agreement what the right answer to give is. I wanted to hear her struggle with what to say to writers. Figure out how to respond to grief and pain appropriately. Even just take some still quiet moments doing household chores before she figures out what she wants to tell them. I wanted to see something more raw than I did.

    At the end, it received a standing ovation. Leaving the theatre, I could hear people talk about how much they appreciated it. This show was another one where I was struck watching it how meaningful it could be for an audience member who isn’t me. I’ve been there before, and I try to be fair enough in my assessments you can figure out if you would love what I am ambivalent about. It’s important to acknowledge that. Kind of like how I need to explain to people that their mom’s banana bread could be the world’s best but since I loathe bananas, I won’t like it.

    This is solid warm gooey feel good banana bread. It employs the discourse of self-help. It explores the intimacy of strangers turning to each other for guidance. It is well paced and beautifully staged. I hope that there are lots of people out there who enjoy this more than I did. And at the end of the day, I am so grateful to be in the privileged position of seeing so much theatre I have developed preferences. Feel free to argue with me in the comments.

  • Amelia Sargasson as Katherine Parr, photo by Dylan Hewlett

    Marry Henry VIII when you’re madly in love with someone else and your country is in absolute political and religious turmoil and the only heir is a sickly boy? What could possibly go wrong? Or right? The Last Wife tells the highly fictionalized story of Katherine Parr, the as mentioned last wife of Henry VIII, and how she impacted the royal milieu she was thrust in. If you know anyone who reads historical fiction by the stack, loves Shakespeare interpreted in modern times, or is just really deep into all things tudors – they probably need to know about this piece. It will play delightfully to an older audience who had this history drilled into their heads. Or, unfortunately, anyone who thinks stories from European history automatically have ‘universal appeal’ and expect that most people know them. Be aware that this show is not going to hit as hard if you don’t have some background knowledge going in.

    Katherine Parr is not yet a widow when the story begins. Actually, point of fact she’s waiting in the wings for her elderly husband to die so she more openly embrace Thomas Seymour. Unfortunately the boorish Henry VIII comes around to literally present her with an offer she can’t refuse, although she does try to negotiate a little. The deal is she has to educate his heir, Edward, and you know, do all those good female things including sex. Their relationship grows both closer, more intimate, and (in my opinion) significantly more messed up, but of course nothing and no one is a match for Katherine the Great! Wait… wrong historical period… She even gets Henry, or ‘Hal’ to accept his daughters as legitimate! While offering some very saccharine 1950’s style messaging about how they are ‘a family’ now. (I mean, Tudor families continually try to kill each other, so I don’t think that word meant or means what you think it does). Also, because Katherine is just that amazing, she also does smart things in the war and everyone comes to appreciate her. Including Thomas Seymore, who is with us until the end. Spoiler alert: she changed history and made everything better for women. Standing ovation time. Cue the sales at McNally for history and historical fiction books about the Tudors. This show will make a lot of people happy. And the cast and crew deserve that, because they created a solid cohesive show where everyone does their part.

    The events are grounded in historical fact but located in the present. The scenery hits notes of Tudor, but the costumes and dialogue are pure modern. This aspect of the show was very effective. Like a really good Shakespeare adaptation, it drew the events and tensions into conversations about the modern day. Also, it was aestheticaly pleasing. The costuming of Katherine Parr was particularly effective, as she was always dressed in clean lines and deceptively simply cut dresses which created contrast between the fussy detailing of other characters. It made her stand out as exceptional -more about that later. Generally every character stuck to a single colour, making them striking against the stark beauty of the set. I particularly like the shifts between Elizabeth’s frilly white girly dresses towards cleaner and more adult expressions. I hated what they did with the character of Mary Queen of Scots, but I thought her gothic lace and crucifix were on point.

    Also, Henry VIII is uncomfortably humanized. And surprisingly willing to be led by her, although the show does seem to suggest this is more to do with her being really pretty than her brains. (Sorry but they did not sell me on that one) The acting offers solid interpretations of each character which work with the story the show is telling. It’s also a great show to throw a big production budget at. The direction is great. The costumes and set are great. The acting is on point. My technical brain delighted in all the little nuances brought into everything. And yet.

    Where they lost me was with the script itself. And yet I found the play itself so profoundly irritating that they lost me fairly early on. My friend and co-critic Skylar Bélanger was in fine form with the quips, but I think his most on point might have been ‘white woman girl boss feminism’. I was deeply annoyed with how perfect and smart and capable Katherine was. Watch how beautiful and elegant she is! Look, she’s educated and writes books! Oh, she tamed the terrible Henry VIII into someone tolerable! She treats his leg with advanced science! She becomes a mother to royal orphans who now love her so much! Now she’s got strategic smarts! What a woman! Let’s seriously not talk about how her power comes from manipulating her husband with her beauty, and ok, some brains. This is not the feminist achievement we want to believe.

    I am so incredibly bored with stories about exceptional heroic impossibly capable people. It feels like a superhero comic for people who wouldn’t be caught dead reading superhero comics. It’s boring, and it’s a tired narrative device, and I want something else. Honestly, she WAS a product of her time, because we all are. What would be wrong about actually examining how women at the time lived without making her into what people want a modern woman to be? Why aren’t characters allowed to have realistic human limits? Especially ones that are based on historical figures?

    So there you have it. This play is both well constructed and beautifully executed… while also telling a story that makes me absolutely crazy with its abuse of tired old tropes about AMAZING and EXCEPTIONAL women. I am an extremely strong feminist and want nothing more than stories with a female perspective. This does not meet that need. I want emotional honesty and nuanced characters. That is not met by just taking one of a handful of already known historical women and making her an unrealistic paragon of all things amazing and womanly.

    Everyone in this production deserved a better script.

  • A note for anglophones: there are subtitles available for free on tablets you can request at the door. In other words, there is no excuse for blaming language for not going to see this show. French language theatre is doing their best to make their work accessible across language boundaries. It’s up to you to take advantage of this. (I quietly step off my soap box)

    Outside, a snow storm rages as Brandi’s family descends on her small apartment to celebrate the first birthday of her sister’s twins. Just another intimate family gathering where nothing could possibly ruin the good feelings… except for maybe long held grudges, fundamental disagreements about values, judgements yielded like weapons… and sandwiches. Don’t forget the sandwiches. Nobody else does. The importance of reproductive rights maybe, but not the sandwiches. Also, as things fall apart it is both incredibly funny and utterly absurd.

    There is something universal about drama erupting at family events, and this show plays with this idea for all that it’s worth. One of the ongoing themes is the idea of the perpetual social pressure put on woman relating to how they use their uterus. Or don’t. As Brandi discovers, wanting to opt out of motherhood does absolutely nothing to stop the commentary. The piece asks big questions about women’s bodily autonomy and the way conversations about motherhood are framed. One of the most effective devices is the use of video scenes where a doctor asks standard questions; the framing of impersonal video screens with the warmth of the set helps draw attention to how the medical system routinely deprives women of dignity and autonomy. It encourages people to question the status quo and who exactly it serves.

    From a structural perspective, this is a tight show. It takes you in to this world of people who love but also judge and can’t stop hurting each other. Everyone has moments of being at least a little bit despicable at some time or another, but no one is ever dismissed as a bad person who needs to be discarded. This is especially remarkable in the case of Brandi’s sister Marianne and brother in law Phil, a pair who it becomes clear have become disconnected through the process of parenting their twins. Kudos to the director for deciding to represent them with balloons. It works perfectly with the motif already written in to the play, and draws attention to the fragility of the humans parents are entrusted with. It also keeps the attention on the adult drama, something which is more or less impossible in any setting where a child exists. If you are someone who thinks parenthood should always be represented idealistically, this depiction may rub you the wrong way. On the other hand, it touches on some truths about how big life transitions can leave people lost and disoriented until they find their bearings.

    It’s hard not to appreciate a show that talks about how important it is to love people who you disagree with. There is an interesting juxtaposition between the struggles Brandi has with the medical institutions and those she has with the judgement of her family members. Both enforce sanctions with the belief that they are doing so in her best interest, while also willfully ignoring what it is Brandi is telling them she wants.

    On a personal note, this piece touches me because I am someone who is intimately impacted by female reproductive health. I remembered the queasy feeling I had the first time I was asked if I had ‘any big plans’ for birth control at age thirteen by a male doctor. So guess what? This conversation also includes you, regardless of gender or sexual orientation. If you have not faced the idea that uterus-having determines women’s health, that just means that you weren’t present for those talks, not that they weren’t happening.The show reminded of a friend who has been trying to get her tubes tied since her mid twenties, partially in response to medical issues, and in her late forties has yet to convince a doctor to do it. Apparently they feel it would be irresponsible to do it in case she finds a nice man, despite the fact she’s asexual and has no interest. These are the important conversations women have together all the time and most of us have become resigned to. It’s refreshing to hear these ideas out loud.

    This is an important show that does the theatre side of things well enough that you are left really concentrating on the big issues the show presents. Everything is really solid and well produced, from the direction to the acting to the set. You’re left with a warm glow and a sense of radical politicization, one of my personal favourite conversations. Highly recommended.

  • By Rhonda Apetagon. March 12 – 28, 2026

    Shane – Daniel Knight. Dale – Jeremy Proulx. George – James Dallas Smith

    In the Shadow Beyond the Pines was originally developed by the Royal Manitoba Theatre Centre through the Pimootayowin Creators Circle.

    The fire is real. So is the fear. Three men go into the woods away from their reserve to light a sacred fire for a friend who has recently died. None are overly outdoorsy, and despite growing up together their experiences have varied widely. Dale is your doubter who never left, Shane stayed, and George left but remembers the teachings of the grandfather who raised him. All are united in the belief that this ceremony matters enough to justify their increasing discomfort. The script captures the blend of trivial and meaningful conversations that go on between old friends. In a masterful set designed by Adam Parboosingh, the woods lean in to you, creating a world of shadow and menace that may just let in things beyond the pale. Kudos to whoever fought for the fire. It makes a definite difference.

    The premise is not that unusual: old friends in the woods tell scary stories. We all know these tropes all too well. The mind does strange things in the dark. Nothing is as it seems. Got it. What makes this production different is the high stakes that are at play with the characters. As we are reminded from the beginning, these stories of the supernatural often come from a context where humans were facing starvation. These come from the experiences of people facing terrors far more frightening and primal than what a Hollywood visual effects studio could produce. Likewise, Dale, Shane and George are there because of the death of someone who faced their own demons. The impending sense of danger is potent because it comes from a real place.

    I saw this show opening night in which casts are often still finding their groove. That said, there were a number of moments in which it was hard to forget that we were seeing a play and fully suspend disbelief. As soon as the characters told a story, I was immersed, but sometimes in the interactions between them I was aware I was watching an actor say lines. The script was strong, and it did give you the authentic feel of old friendship. I would have liked a little more tension between the three, but that is absolutely nitpicking. I think it was a good choice to keep the play short since it allowed the momentum to build quickly without getting dragged on in minutiae.

    After yesterday’s show they had a talk back. Honestly, I enjoyed it as much if not more than the show. If you can catch a performance with on, it’s well worth your time. The ensemble talked about the taboos around certain beings in indigenous cultures, and how these cultural understandings informed the show. Historically, the theatre has often been seen as a spiritually tricky place where people call in deep emotions and sometimes beings and therefore need to protect themselves – this piece is a prime example of why. The show’s knowledge keeper Jhaik Windy Hair talked at length about how they integrated protection into the very process of making the play. The whole thing gave the piece roots and depths, going into the area I find more interesting than horror. Still, horror informs the play and it won’t disappoint those who love the genre.

    This is the right time of year to catch this show. The moment in the year when you could just be convinced to sit outside in the cold. When it doesn’t yet feel like you’re out of the danger of winter. And when you need to light of the fire to carry you back into the brightness.

  • This is a really hard show to describe. Utterly unique, gloriously multimedia, characters Oogie and Boogie engage in play using white boards, music, well honed physical theatre, drawing, puppetry, animation and good old fashioned audience participation. There is a loose storyline about rescuing a turtle, but if you get hung up on that you lose the whimsical nature of this show. Above and beyond anything else, this show is worth seeing for its masterful use of technology to create an experience that leaves you feeling like you just witnessed kids building a world with their drawings. For sober adults, it’s a downright psychedelic experience, in a good way.

    The best way I can explain this show is it’s like entering into the imaginative make believe world of a child. The actors use very little verbal cues to communicate, focusing instead on sound effects and oversized reactions to each other. They start small, inviting audience participation with high fives and help drawing on smaller whiteboards. The predominantly black and white palette drew attention to the simple black line drawings that made up the action. There were so many small little moments of changing the drawing to change the world, and then playing with the consequences. The show worked you up to a crescendo of using the entire white board for drawings that were objectively cool. Fast paced, energetic and so creative, it reminded me of a (only slightly) more linear game of make believe that I used to watch children invent at the park in the summers.

    I also had along my children’s theatre consultant, Eli Kovacs (formerly known as River). The following is a transcript of her feelings about the show:

    “It was really fun. I loved how interactive it was with the audience and how full of emotion it was. I really love plays where they interact with the audience. Basically everything that could ever happen happened. It was a wacky fun play that was full of creativity. The turtle was my favourite character. I feel like they used drawing to show what’s going on in a child’s mind when they are playing make believe. It made me feel really happy and full of inspiration. Inspiration to draw on my own time and stuff like that. I would say it’s good for all ages. Really good. I would see it again.”

    What struck me was how much skill it demonstrated to make a show look as spontaneous and chaotic as it was. All the timing was immaculate. The spacing had to be perfect. The relationship between musicians and performers had to be just right. This is a tight, tight show and as an adult it is hard not to be impressed. It has the feel of one of those YouTube videos kids under 12 love watching – you know the ones. Except that it’s skillful and clever. It reminded me of the late Erik de Waal’s puppet shows, in which the timing used catered to the rhythms of children, not adults.

    Like games of make believe, the rules change when you get older. This is probably not going to be parents’ favourite show of the season, but it will make up for it with the delight of its intended audience. Fun, skilled, utterly unique. Very worth it for children.

  • by Drew Hayden Taylor. February 24 – March 8, 2026
    Calla Adubofour-Poku,
Vinnie Alberto,
Charlene Van Beukenhout
    Director: Tracey Nepinak
Set & Props Designer: Adam Parboosingh
Costume Designer: Amy McPherson
Lighting Designer: Anika Binding
Sound Designer/Composer: Ryan Black
Stage Manager: Michael Duggan
Assistant Stage Manager: Michelle Lagassé
Sound Design Mentor: Dasha Plett
Vocal Coach: Shannon Vickers

    How do you measure cultural authenticity? More importantly, who gets to make those judgement calls and how should they go about it? These are some of the deep, complex, contradictory questions that drive this piece, and drive it do they ever. The story uses the case of the many, many frauds of Anishiinabe artist Norval Morisseau to address issues of indigenous heritage and the ownership of cultural knowledge. The show takes place in the home that main character, Nizhi Nigig shared with her late husband, a famous Anishinabe painter on Otter Lake reserve, a beautiful space bright with colour and pan-indigenous imagery. She has built a career as an expert in indigenous art, publishing multiple articles, curating shows, running an art gallery and, significantly, being able to identify Norval Morisseau forgeries. The show’s title comes from a existence of a particular colour of paint which allows Nizhi to tell that a piece is fake. This motif becomes extremely important when an indigenous reporter comes to interview her and discovers things in her past which threaten the world of her and her daughter Beverley.

    The pacing in this play is beautifully done -the direction from Tracey Nepinak keeps you unsettled and on the edge of your seat.. Unfortunately the suspense and rolling out of the story makes it very hard to talk about without revealing too much about the show. I’ll do my best to keep away from spoilers, because this is a show I highly encourage people to experience for themselves. I will, however, say that I was completely turned around between scenes one and two. In the first one something felt off about Nizhi even though all the elements were technically there. She was passionate about fraud identification, but nothing she said seemed all that noteworthy or radical. I was just about to sigh and prepare myself for a play that talked at me about how Indigenous art fraud is Exceptionally Bad with Extra Helpings of Colonial Exploitation – unmistakeably true but not always exciting theatre… Then the twist comes in and I was completely riveted. It turned out that all of that nagging feeling of unease was completely deliberate and a huge part of why the show was so exceptional.

    We need to talk about the characters, fleshed out by a fantastic cast. of ,
Vinnie Alberto. Charlene Van Beukenhout as Nizhi gave an incredibly nuanced and captivating performance as this morally ambiguous person, described within the show as “a bit of a trickster”. She managed to be both sincere, and yet she is also portrayed in a way that draws attention to her problematic life choices. This was grounded in the character of her daughter Beverley, an indigenous educator played by Calla Adubofour-Poku. This character allows us to really feel the damage Nizhi has caused, while also continuing to treat her with compassion and dignity. Vinnie Alberto plays the journalist role with a touch of reverence, severity and hurt that allows us to see her with the eyes of broader indigenous communities. If this issue is one that touches you, it will move you. If it isn’t, this play is compelling enough to offer some emotional education on why this issue matters to the people involved.

    A good indicator of how rich this piece is can be seen in the fact I had two long and intense conversations about indigenous identity and cultural authenticity with the friend I took to the play. The next day we were still pulling it apart. I found myself wanting to look for the documentary about Norval Morisseau fraud. I also found myself drawing parallels with the Latin American indigenous art situation, about cooption of traditional motifs and symbols, about how intellectual property rights aren’t really set up to deal with collective knowledge… and then we’re back to the age old issue of how do you balance individual autonomy with responsibility to the collective. Among other things. This is the state of curiosity and creativity that I want to leave the theatre feeling.

    It also has a really perfect ending that resolves just enough. I appreciated it.

    If “Rogers vs. Rogers” was not my kind of theatre, this very much is. It’s emotionally honest, thought provoking, well performed, beautifully staged, dense and so rich with meaning. I highly recommend this one.

  • Photo by Dahlia Katz

    In this production, actor Tom Rooney switches between a staggering number of parts to tell a story of how Rogers communications is actually worse than you could have imagined. Yes, even after being switched between operators for forty five minutes because you want to make a miniscule change to your cell phone plan. In front of a set that suggests both a board room and also literal hell, the actor fleshes out the intersection between family and corporate dramas whose result is consumer helplessness and lack of choice. Isn’t free market economy capitalism delightful?

    It’s worth saying right now up front that I am emphatically not the intended audience for this play. My personal politics made it hard for the ideas in this show to line up. If you want to know more about why, I’ll be discussing them more today at 16:40 on Envol Radio with Skylar Bélanger.

    To the credit of playwright Michael Healey, the script does an excellent job of breaking down big economic concepts, like the role of competition and created scarcity. At the beginning of the show the screens show that this is not a work of journalism but a work of fiction; I would argue that it still carries the feeling and weight of investigative reporting. The storytelling is just that, a lot of telling and informing about what has gone on with the feeling that this is capital T Truth as opposed to an artistic rendition. This is contributed to by the set, which leaves you feeling like you are on a conference call you can’t get out of. It’s like being in the audience of a presentation, albeit a well done one, that you aren’t sure if you signed up for. It seems like the intention is to use the tools of the corporate world against it, but it still read as the corporate world.

    One of the main themes of the show is that the personal issues of Edward Rogers with his father contributed to the corruption. The story as they present it follows the familiar tropes of emotionally abusive distant father resulting in an entitled socially maladjusted child. The backhanded dealings and relationship with the board contribute to a climate where the theoretical checks and balances are incapable of working. At the same time, the show also shines a line on how the federal government is implicated in this mess. A sad little boy who wants his dad’s attention is one thing, but it only means something once his power moves are backed up by big institutions.

    I won’t give any spoilers, but I found the last scene of the show incredibly problematic to have on stage.

    What is clear is that this show hit a chord with a lot of the audience the night I was there, judging by the number of standing ovations. If you are someone who likes to look at systems and is interested in ideas of competition and economics, this will speak to you. If you enjoy Mark Carney’s speeches and market analysis, this show will appeal to you. It probably has a similar appeal to tv shows about lawyers and people trying to Get Ahead – and there are lots of people who like these things. It wasn’t for me, but then again there are a lot of shows out there that are. We should all have stuff that makes us happy on stage.

  • Royal Manitoba Theatre Centre
    Carrie – Jessy Ardern†
    Paul – Daniel Bogart
    Rudy / Jim / Garry / Officer Miller – Toby Hughes
    Alice – Jennifer Lyon
    Rachel / Ms. Watson / Nurse / Officer Lafleur – Jane Testar

    The tagline of this show could almost be “it should have been so simple”. Parents Carrie and Paul just want to take care of their two kids, one of whom, Daniel, happens to have cerebral palsy. Beyond that they work, pick up groceries and squabble. And yet in some achingly painfully realistic first scenes, the audience is brought into the fact that their lives are full of stress levels and logistical disaster paradigms every time they try to accomplish some basic task to help their child with special needs. Of course the clinicians and medical bureaucrats Carrie and Paul have to go through are very sympathetic to how hard it must be raising a child with a disability, conveniently managing to ignore that it is the all too real world of Mandatory Bureaucracy for Everything that is actually the source of their stress. Actually, it’s worth mentioning that at no point do either parent attribute their difficulties to their child’s medical condition. It’s suggested that it’s not because it isn’t a factor, but rather because it absolutely pales in comparison to the challenges of accessing the services. They have needs that other families don’t have, which is supposed to be balanced out through systems that give them additional supports. And yet. Insert the dry laughter.

    This show took on a big topic and turned into a fast-paced chaotic zinger of an adventure. If you have ever had to deal with medical bureaucracy I would say that the first twenty minutes are almost too real and brutally honest. These initial scenes are some of the best writing in the show, with their concise analysis of splitting hairs and ridiculous expectations placed on families. Kudos to Tobias Hughes for delivering the doctor’s lines with the friendly smirk of someone who truly believes that they are being helpful. If you have never been at the mercy of medical bureaucracy, the initial segment is a beautiful insight into the experience of repeated frustration that wears people down. The overall theme of systems taking away human dignity is all too relatable. Also, there is some fabulous examples by the establishment of what my friend calls “kale smoothie and yoga” your problems away – or in this case, offer trite visualisations and trite metaphors instead of offering meaningful help.

    Dealing with bureaucracy is often very much like trying to box with jello. You hit it hard with logic and it just goes ahead and suffocates you further. Except in this particular case, Carrie decides to take some concrete action in very unexpected ways. Is it realistic? No. That was never the point. Instead, it gives the audience a feeling of power and catharsis. In this show, the characters get to push back and make things happen. There is a radical purpose served by imagining an alternative ending to what often happens, and that is what this piece gives us. Beyond that I’m getting into spoiler territory.

    I would give this piece one of my ultimate compliments, which is that it is well crafted. Every element works well together. The actors are generous in how they interact with each other. The pacing of this show is stellar. The script is tight. It is high up there in the list of favourite shows I’ve seen since starting this blog. I particularly loved the parental support group online played by Jane Testar and Tobias Hughes. The two dash between personas for much needed comedic relief, but also anchor the story in important ways. Jesse Ardern is the heart of the story, a protagonist who consistently goes haywire without ever giving up her relatability and loveable quality.

    Partly because this show handles such a big topic, it’s inevitable that it also raises questions that are worth examining. For example, how does it shape the story that the character with a disability is never shown on stage, situating the able bodied parents at its centre? It’s possible that including disabled actors might be equally problematic if they are presented as objects of spectacle, but I did spend a lot of time thinking over various alternatives.

    I’m also uncomfortable with the way blame is situated for systemic inaction. To be clear, Alice their worker is clearly an awful person and I enjoyed the catharsis of someone in an unequal unjust system get their comeuppance. That said, even within the world of the play, nothing that happens to her is going to change the fundamental problems of inadequate resources. It also seemed like there was a grain of truth in the worker’s criticism that the white nuclear family was privileged – which was not in any way to dismiss the severity of their challenges. I wondered why Daniel the disabled child had to be consistely refered to as “such a good kid”, as though he would have been less worthy if presented as human and fallible. I was just left wondering what would happen if other elements were brought in as well – ethnicity, welfare, language, immigration, disabled parents for example.

    None of that takes away from how much I liked the show. It’s great that I walked out with questions about representation and individualism. I wondered what the next show about disability will look like, and how they will engage with those big questions. And I wondered about how you can bring progressive values into a mainstream theatre that still has to appeal to a broad base. I do appreciate that community plays a key role in the resolution.

    So to sum it up, great play, but I would love to discuss the issues that came up for me with anyone who goes to see the show.