Citadel Shoctor takes a stroll down Avenue Q
Puppet musical a fun, wistful look at real life
Avenue Q Theatre: Citadel Shoctor Directed by: Dayna Tekatch Starring: Andrew MacDonald-Smith, Rachel Bowron Running: through May 24 Tickets: 780-425-1820, citadeltheatre.com In the opening scene of Avenue Q, the winsome 2003 Broadway puppet musical for adults onstage at the Citadel, a bright-eyed college graduate sings What Do You Do With A BA In English? Even the title makes my eyes water.
Since Princeton started apartment hunting at Avenue A, he’s already had to lower his expectations a few letters, to this low-rent ’hood in the Big Apple’s outer boroughs. And since his new neighbours, both human and foam-headed, immediately upon his arrival segue into a rousing chorus of It Sucks To Be Me, the shiny world view of Sesame Street has definitely taken a bit of a scuffing with the wire brush we call “reality.”
Before long, our aimless puppet hero will find himself fired from his job for being “too depressive” on the phone, holed up in his apartment surrounded by takeout cartons, drinking beer, wondering what happened to his capital-P Purpose in life.
If the Purpose of the American musical theatre is to be catchy of tune, the cheery bounce of the Robert Lopez/ Jeff Marx songs is all about fulfilling it, with their winking salute to Sesame Street. If the Purpose of the American musical theatre is to offer chipper chin-up resolutions, and reward ambition, Avenue Q is all about subverting them, in its disarming, not-too-snarky way. Ditto the helpful positivity of educational TV. The finale is a peppy anthem to being grown-up and making do, accommodating to ambiguity (and lack of cash flow), embracing the shrug.
By the time the cast is singing “it’s only for now (sex!), it’s only for now (your hair!),” with topical modifications, we’ve seen the young adult self-doubters of Avenue Q get fired, fall in and out of love and bed, ambivalent about everything from commitment to sexuality, wondering when it stopped feeling special to be me, and started to suck. And they arrive not at resolution but at a tentative response to the perplexing struggles attached to growing up, knowing that everything, including life, is impermanent.
The Citadel has come late to the Ave. But nostalgia, like cheese, is something that ages. And Dayna Tekatch’s delightful production makes the wait worthwhile. A big reason is her appealing ensemble of triple-threats who play well with others — an intricate assignment since it means interacting with both puppets and people, and being in plain view all the while. They’re led by protagonists Princeton, brought to life with dazzling detail by Andrew MacDonald-Smith, and his sometime squeeze, wistful kindergarten teaching assistant Kate Monster affectingly played by Rachel Bowron. Both have a second, high-contrast incarnation. MacDonald-Smith’s is Rod, a tightly wound closeted Republican, who has a slacker roommate Nicky (Ryan Kelly), à la Bert and Ernie, but claims in an amusing song to have a girlfriend in Canada (“her name is Alberta/ she lives in Vancouver”). Bowron alternates between the endearing Kate and skanky maneater Lucy T. Slut, whom karma will overtake, rather hilariously, later in the show.
MacDonald-Smith and Bowron are terrific, expert at the mysterious magic of making simple legless foam/ felt constructions with a single movable arm and glued-on button eyes feel like dimensional, breathing characters, having existential crises and singing and dancing about them. Ah yes, and having hot one-night stands. I should mention we Edmontonians are no pushovers when it comes to such matters, courtesy of virtuoso marionettiste Ronnie Burkett and his complex puppet dramas.
When the rueful Princeton finds himself overtaken by the spirit of the musical theatre to sing out, in heartfelt fashion, about his Purpose, the nuances of movement and facial expression that MacDonald-Smith brings to the moment — both in the puppet and himself — will amaze you. That’s if you stop to think about it, which you probably won’t. Similarly, Kate Monster has an earnest, thoughtful forward lean into the moment, assessing the damages, trying to remain positive in a world that’s hard on sunny attitudes.
The cast of people and puppets occupy Robin Fisher’s 2-D tenement set like they live there. Princeton’s neighbours it sucks to be include Brian (Justin Bott), an unfunny would-be comedian and his fiancée Christmas Eve (Kimmy Choi), a Japanese therapist with no clients. The building super Gary Coleman (Saccha Dennis) is, by the terms of Avenue Q, the actual former child star, so his decline into a dated joke no one understands works OK. All three human actors are engaging. So is Kelly doubling as Trekkie Monster, modern heir to the cookie junkie, addicted to Internet porn. The Bad Idea Bears (Kelly and Elizabeth Stepkowski-Tarhan), who encourage people to get drunk and have sex, are pretty funny, too. The musical values, as you might expect from the presence of Don Horsburgh, are high.
To borrow a line from lovestruck Kate’s poignant ballad, “there’s a fine line.” In Avenue Q it’s between sass and sentiment. Tekatch’s production teases its way along it, dipping a toe along each side, avoiding the overt irony reads like condescension. It’s a night to have fun, be a little wistful, and give some love to your younger self. lnicholls@edmontonjournal.com