The Comedy Company juxtaposes humour, war
The Comedy Company blends dark humour with the realities of battle
It is difficult to combine the humour of the comedy troupe with the horror of the war, and the transitions aren’t always smooth.
There is little that tickles me more than a man dressed as a woman for fun. Put a man in a curly wig and a pair of dainty heels, rouge up his cheeks, stuff his bosom with bunched-up paper, and I am on the floor.
I sense others agree. Many of these like-minded folk are gathering at the Varscona Theatre nightly till Nov. 11 for the world premiere of Neil Grahn’s new play for Shadow Theatre, The Comedy Company.
Based on a true story, The Comedy Company was written to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the end of the First World War. It’s about a band of seven men pulled together by a commanding officer with Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry who thought increasing the morale of troops with light-hearted entertainment would not only make lives in the trenches seem less miserable, but could help win the war.
The troop was wildly successful, and was invited to perform before the King and Queen in London. After the war, the soldiers formed a group called The Dumbbells and were the first Canadian comedy troop to play on Broadway.
This is Grahn’s first solo, fulllength play in an exemplary writing career that includes penning scripts for Three Dead Trolls in a Baggie and The Irrelevant Show, as well as dozens of documentaries and TV reality series. The new play serves both to entertain the audience, and to find a new way to remember those who volunteered for a cause greater than their own lives.
The play begins with a moving rendition of The Maple Leaf Forever — all cast members are able singers — before the first act sets the story in motion. Here, we see solders on the Western Front in the spring of 1916, dashing over a trench wall, pelting across the stage as artillery fire pierces the air. The scene ends with a German soldier who can’t unjam his gun being shot in the gut by two Canadian soldiers. In the next scene, the Canadian fighters are sprawled in a newly captured German trench, exhausted by their efforts, and stunned they are still alive.
“We’re here, because we’re here, because we’re here, because we’re here,” one begins to sing, to the tune of Auld Lang Syne, and the others follow his lead, though weakly.
So when in the scene to follow, Canadian Major Agar Adamson (played by Julien Arnold) thinks of ways to improve life for his troops, a dose of laughter seems sensible. Adamson approaches soldier Jack McLaren (known as a bit of a card and played with customary brio by Andrew Macdonald-Smith) and orders him to gather a few funny folks for a comedy company.
The play contrasts the comic efforts of the small band of merry men with the brutality of life in the trenches. A series of sombre vignettes is interspersed amid the jokes. One sees two actors standing in the gloom, using single words to describe war. Cold. Itchy. Raw. The play brings the enormous scale of the war down to these singular senses, and the audience can imagine not only terror and sadness, but lice, and feet oozing blisters.
The performances in the production are strong. Jesse Gervais plays Cunningham, a stiff and stern soldier selected as the straight man. As ever, Gervais displays his range; the man could bring a kitchen sink to life. Sheldon Elter as T.J. Lilley uses his Plasticine face to convey humour and sadness with equal veracity. He does a charming singing Scot in a kilt. (Again with the women’s clothing.)
Steven Greenfield is hilarious as Fenwick, tagged to dress in lacy bloomers because he’s the prettiest (and he is) of the lot. Nick Samoil as the piano player — Leonard Young — has a small acting role, but his fresh and open face recalls the beautiful, promising boys who left their parents’ arms and never returned.
It’s a complex production, skilfully directed by Shadow’s John Hudson. The stage is framed by billowing strips of white muslin against which First World War photos are flashed, as well as images of single-engine fighters in a surprisingly realistic fashion. The talents of Alison Yanota (set and lighting designer), Dave Clarke (sound designer) and Matt Schuurman (video designer) combine to create an effective visual and auditory backdrop for this tale.
It is difficult to combine the humour of the comedy troupe with the horror of the war, and the transitions aren’t always smooth. The Comedy Company is most successful within the bounds of comedy; the irreverent, bawdy songs, the kiss-my-ass-goodbye silliness.
Parts of the play, however, feel as if the work was commissioned to commemorate the end of the First World War, and they didn’t want to leave anything out. There are too many words scrolling across the trench wall that could not be seen by portions of the audience.
But there are a couple of lovely details that make the soldiers’ lives achingly real, such as when two enlisted men come up with a good idea to make them less vulnerable to German snipers, and their numskull commanding officer dismisses it. The final song, Hanging on the Old Barbed Wire, is an effective reminder that the powerless suffer most.
For ticket information, visit shadowtheatre.org or phone 780-434-5564. lfaulder@postmedia.com Twitter.com/eatmywordsblog.