Lighter side of Chekhov
Four mini-plays serve Russian playwright’s dark humour with chutzpah and intelligence
In the British comedy film
Withnail and I, the Richard E. Grant character complains about Anton Chekhov, saying: “I loathe those Russian plays. Always full of women staring out windows, whining about ducks going to Moscow.”
Chekhov does have a reputation for bleakness — and yet the stereotype is not fully warranted. As if to prove the point, Blue Bridge Repertory Theatre has opened an amusing and invigorating evening of Chekhov’s one-act plays at the Roxy Theatre. Swan Song (and Other Farces), continuing through May 6, offers four short comedies: On the Dangers of Tobacco, The Proposal, The Bear and Swan Song. The 90-minute romp benefits from a skilled, energetic cast. And Jacob Richmond’s clever direction underscores the vaudevillian humour within these playlets without sacrificing their inherent sadness and poignancy.
Chekhov liked to peel the veneer of respectable society to explore the anxieties, misgivings and pervasive sense of failure underneath. Like Beckett, he was appalled and delighted by the contradictory nature of humanity and the existential stasis that (he believed) defines the human condition. Each of these miniplays explores this. Yet the show is anything but grim or dull — a perverse joyfulness bubbles throughout .
On the Dangers of Tobacco is a monologue in which a man giving a dull lecture ends up railing about his horrible wife (she calls him “Satan”) and his miserable life in general. The humour lies in seeing such a nebbish, ineffectual character break down completely. On Wednesday night, R.J. Peters gave a vital, confident performance, bringing a Marx Brothersstyle physicality and sense of absurdity to the role.
Social convention again blows up hilariously in The Proposal. With a forelock firmly plastered against his forehead, Rod Peter Jr. portrays a nervous suitor, Ivan ,who aims to propose marriage to his neighbour Natalya (Celine Stubel). The plan backfires when Natalya and her father (Wes Tritter) get into a free-for-all argument with him about who owns a nearby meadow. Peter has a knack for comedy; his physical shtick — hypochondriac heart palpitations and leg paralysis — was superb.
For The Bear, Treena Stubel and R.J. Peters play a grieving widow and a belligerent landowner who’s owed money. Stubel portrayed the widow with a curious lyrical eccentricity that worked well. For some reason, Peters assumed an American southern accent — an odd choice, although his bellicose performance ensured the sequence worked.
Tritter delivered an especially affecting performance as an aging, slightly drunk actor in Swan Song. The lonely thespian ruminates on a life sacrificed to the theatre, quoting the poignant “Our revels now have ended” speech from The Tempest. Strongly acted, it was a lovely coda with which to cap the evening.
The overall level of acting is impressive, yet what makes this Blue Bridge show truly a superior effort is the direction.
Dark humour is served up with chutzpah and a contagious physicality — everything bristles with intelligence and zeal. Gluing together each segment is a quirky little band featuring eight-year-old Noa Paster on violin and a toy piano. Another delightful bit features the Stubel sisters in bathing suits grasping cigarettes with their bare toes.
The enjoyable Swan Song (and Other Farces) is a promising opening to Blue Bridge’s 10th season. The Belfry Theatre is staging Falen Johnson’s comedy Salt Baby, an examination of First Nations racial politics. While the production is well-intentioned and poses interesting questions, it’s hampered by an uneven script and spotty acting.
This semi-autobiographical play is about a young woman, Salt Baby, who is of Mohawk and Tuscarora descent. The character, played by Dakota Ray Hebert, hails from Six Nations/Grand River territory in Ontario. Salt Baby recently moved from the reserve to make a new life in the city. There she meets a young white man called Phillip. The pair become romantically involved — however, their different racial backgrounds spark friction.
Although Salt Baby is a fullblooded Indigenous person (or believes herself so), she can pass for “white.” Her skin is light, her features have a Caucasian cast. As a child, native friends derided her as being not one of them. Now, in adulthood, white society assumes she is one of their own. Says Philip (Nathan Howe): “How First Nations are you? Because you don’t really look like one.”
Such remarks rankle Salt Baby, fiercely proud of her First Nations heritage. She finds herself struggling to come to terms with her racial identify.
The play pivots around Salt Baby’s interest in getting a definitive answer on her ancestry. She’s keen on having a DNA test done — at the same time, the young woman fears the results might negate her view of herself.
Commendably, Johnson endeavours to be even-handed in considering racial politics, and she does leaven her play with humour. However, Salt Baby suffers from a didacticism and literalism common to the “educational” theatre designed for school audiences. (Salt Baby wasn’t written as a play for young people, although it seems like one.)
At times the script is clumsy and roughly characterized, such as a scene in which Philip introduces Salt Baby to his parents with disastrous results. The father and mother react in ways that seem arbitrary and almost inexplicable, with Philip’s mom leaving in tears minutes after the meeting.
Some characters are played as crude caricatures, particularly those acted by Colin Dingwall in a handful of roles. Perhaps this is an intended effect — however, during Wednesday’s matinee it seemed jarring and amateurish.
Salt Baby continues at the Belfry through May 13.