Chaperone revels in musical mayhem

Straight choices

THE DROWSY CHAPERONE

Music and lyrics by Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison. Book by Bob Martin and Don Mckellar. Directed by Gillian Barber. Musical direction by Kevin Michael Cripps. A Theatre Under the Stars production. At Malkin Bowl on Tuesday, July 18. Continues until August 19

If you love musical theatre, nostalgia, 2 and sarcasm, The Drowsy Chaperone wraps them all up in one colourful package.

This Canadian musical has humble origins: it began as a wedding gift, was revived for the Toronto Fringe Festival, then was picked up by Mirvish Productions, and later went to Broadway, where it received five Tony Awards. The Drowsy Chaperone is a loving tribute to the power of music and theatre to rescue us from loneliness.

Ironic, then, that its opening line, delivered by the solitary apartment dweller known only as Man in Chair, is “I hate theatre!” But not all theatre: in an effort to escape his “self-conscious anxiety resulting in nonspecific sadness”, he pulls out one of his favourite records, the soundtrack to a (fictional) 1928 musical called The Drowsy Chaperone. As he listens to it, the show comes to life around him.

The plot of the play-within-theplay is a parody of 1920s musical theatre: Janet, a star, is giving up her career to marry Robert. On their wedding day, the martini-loving Chaperone is tasked with keeping the bride and groom apart just for the day, but Broadway producer Feldzieg is determined to stop the nuptials altogether so he can keep Janet onstage. Throw in a bimbo starlet, a society matron and her butler, a pair of gangsters disguised as bakers, a Lothario, and (why not?) an aviatrix, and you’ve got all the ingredients for full-on musical mayhem.

The songs themselves—which range from “Toledo Surprise”, in which a threat disguised as a recipe turns into a big dance number, to “Bride’s Lament”, which sees the stage overrun with monkeys—are huge fun. Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison’s witty lyrics and nostalgic melodies are well showcased by this cast, and Shelley Stewart Hunt’s choreography has performers dancing on countertops and in sinks, filling every inch of Man in Chair’s dingy apartment.

Bob Martin and Don Mckellar’s book offers another layer of pleasure in the Man’s many comments, filling us in on the lives of the actors in the musical (one died at home and was partially eaten by his poodles), or offering disclaimers on certain scenes. His sardonic commentary simultaneously mocks and pays tribute to musicaltheatre conventions while revealing a character who is fussy, lonely, and not always intentionally funny. Regarding the show’s leading man, whom he finds attractive, Man in Chair says, “Some people say he was a bad actor, but to those people, I say, ‘Shut up!’”

Under Gillian Barber’s direction, Shawn Macdonald combines fastidiousness and enthusiasm in just the right proportion; he’s a man in the grip of a very individual obsession, but his joy is infectious. Caitriona Murphy confidently inhabits the grande-dame role of Beatrice Stockwell, whose Chaperone is all tipsy charm; her big number, “As We Stumble Along”, is a terrific showcase for her vocals. Shannon Hanbury’s Janet also sings like a dream, and she accompanies every line she speaks with showy hand gestures that belie her farewell to performing in “Show Off”, one of the musical’s strongest numbers. Stuart Barkley’s Robert has a dazzling smile and a voice like honey. The role of Aldolpho, a caricature Latin lover, could easily misfire, but Dimitrios Stephanoy’s physical and vocal inventiveness are a hit. And as the gangster-bakers, Kai Bradbury and Nicholas Bradbury (no relation) pull off both wicked puns and physical acrobatics with aplomb.

Brian Ball’s set celebrates the porous boundaries between the real and imaginary worlds, most notably in a filthy fridge door that opens onto a beaded curtain. There’s lots of sparkle in Chris Sinosich’s costumes, too; most successful are the many flapper dresses.

The Drowsy Chaperone does exactly what its protagonist wants theatre to do: it entertains mightily. Enjoy. > KATHLEEN OLIVER

IN THE NEXT ROOM…OR THE VIBRATOR PLAY

By Sarah Ruhl. Directed by Keltie Forsyth. An Ensemble Theatre Company production, as part of its Summer Repertory Festival. At the Jericho Arts Centre on Thursday, July 20. Continues until August 17

In the Next Room celebrates the many gifts of electricity, but fails to make sparks of its own.

Sarah Ruhl’s script features the aptly named Dr. Givings, a late-19thcentury doctor who treats patients for hysteria using “therapeutic electrical massage”—an early form of the vibrator—in the operating theatre, “the next room” in his home. His wife, Catherine, a new mother, gets to watch satisfied patients coming and going from their treatments, while languishing from a lack of attention from her husband, a self-professed “man of science” who reveres the gift of electricity. Desperate for emotional connection, she befriends one patient, Mrs. Daldry—whose housekeeper, Elizabeth, becomes the Givings’s wet nurse—and flirts with another, Leo, a romantic painter, as her curiosity about her husband’s miraculous treatments deepens into obsession.

Ruhl crams a lot of social commentary—racism, women’s sexuality, and technological progress are all repeatedly ticked—into a scenario whose contrivances become strained. Events are driven entirely by entrances and exits; characters are prone to break into prolonged philosophical monologues that have little to do with what’s happening. And how many times do we need to watch people brought to orgasm in the treatment room?

Under Keltie Forsyth’s direction, the actors display varying levels of comfort with Ruhl’s stilted, faux-period dialogue. Sebastian Kroon’s intellectually enthusiastic but emotionally clueless Dr. Givings inhabits the words with conviction, and as his assistant, Annie, Alexis Kellum-creer is calmly understated. Christine Reinfort’s Mrs. Daldry is sympathetic in both her preand posttreatment emotional states, and Francis Winter makes the caddish dandy, Leo, eminently likable. The big hole in this production is Catherine: Lindsay Nelson’s line readings are so flat that we can only deduce her feelings from the text rather than from an emotionally grounded performance.

Lauchlin Johnston’s set is handsomely functional, showcasing the technological wonders of both an electric lamp and the doctor’s hilariously cumbersome devices. But their entertainment value diminishes long before the curtain falls.

FAMILY FUSE Experimenting with watercolour paints like mini Claude Monets will be just one of the hands-on activities offered at the Family FUSE Weekend on Saturday and Sunday (July 29 and 30) at the Vancouver Art Gallery. Called Nature Concentrated, the event will help kids respond in artistic ways to everything from Claude Monet’s Secret Garden to Emily Carr: Into the Forest. Dancers, art educators, musicians, and others will all be on hand to get families’ creative juices flowing. Sketch stations and performances will be happening throughout the gallery on both days; free for gallery members and kids 12 and under who are accompanied by a paying adult.