Missing design undercuts stellar cast
Age of Arousal
(out of 4) Written by Linda Griffiths. Directed by Jennifer Brewin. Until Nov. 8 at the Factory Theatre Mainspace, 125 Bathurst St. 416-504-9971, or FactoryTheatre.ca. The current production of Age of Arousal will leave you missing Linda Griffiths, adoring the cast and scratching your head at the Factory Theatre administration. By many accounts, it’s a well-orchestrated, excellently performed script by a beloved Canadian playwright, Griffiths, who died of cancer last year. There are so many moments, so many ideas, that should linger in your head after the curtain call — instead, frustratingly, the biggest take-away seems to be what was missing: design.
First, the positives. Griffiths’ funny, repeatedly poignant script, which premiered in 2007 in a production by Toronto’s Nightwood Theatre (which also happened at Factory Theatre) is loosely adapted from George Gissing’s 1893 novel The Odd Women about a group of Victorian era spinsters enrolled in a London secretarial school, turning the Remington typewriter into a tool for financial independence and freedom. They’re all “odd” in the marriage equation, remaindered by other couples when men were outnumbered by women by half a million in English society. Griffiths ups the “odd” factor in the conventional sense as well — these are eccentric, witty and wonderful women, made all the more so by writing their inner monologues into their daily dialogues (or “Thoughtspeak,” as Griffiths called it).
Mary Barfoot, a former suffragette, runs the school with her younger lover, Rhoda Nunn, but the arrival of the three Madden sisters (the drunken Virginia, the fretful Alice, and the young and beautiful Monica) drives a rift in their partnership, both professionally and romantically. The presence of Mary’s cousin Everard, a doctor making the most of his singlehood, further complicates this battle between and within the sexes.
The most remarkable feat that Griffiths accomplishes with this script is likely her ability to keep a straight- forward and interesting story while touching upon so many conflicted, complex aspects of a feminist progress.
Rhoda calls herself “ferociously odd” and dedicates herself to building a community of powerful, single women, but finds herself unable to accept or support the elder Madden sisters, who at first cling to the protective advice of their deceased father and other advisers.
Monica especially provides a challenge: she resolutely refuses to become a spinster and will marry at any cost. Meanwhile, her burgeoning sexual drive puts both plans, to be a spinster or not to be, at risk, and her shame of her powerful and natural desires is both hilarious and heartbreaking.
Everard is another compelling character in the mix, appearing to be in favour of women’s liberation, but he can’t help getting in everyone’s way of achieving it.
Director Jennifer Brewin, who elegantly orchestrates these conflicts with clarity, writes in her program notes that the play is “an ensemble piece with six protagonists” and that’s entirely true.
With a universally impressive cast (Aviva Armour-Ostroff as Virginia, Marie Beath Badian as Rhoda, Leah Doz as Monica, Sam Kalilieh as Everard, Juno Rinaldi as Alice, and Julie Stewart as Mary), these two hours are hilarious and touching in unexpected ways, with almost limitless ideas to unpack afterwards.
Which brings us to the unfortunate part — there is a distraction throughout the play, and that’s the deliberate lack of design. As the first play in Factory Theatre’s “Naked Season,” the cast is accompanied by three typewriters, two benches, and a couple of pillows. The women’s costumes consist of long skirts and Tshirts, while Everard is dolled up in an elegant, if slightly ill-fitting, Victorian suit. The echoing acoustics of the cavernous Factory Mainspace basically drown out Mary and Rhoda’s opening scene.
And messy lighting causes the actors to walk in and out of darkness during a scene in an art gallery. If the “naked” esthetic is meant to eliminate the frivolity of good design, it not only does the opposite in irking the audience with the impression that something is missing, that a box was left unchecked; but it also undermines the role of the designer in their contribution to a production. It also undermines the viewer, in a way — yes, we’re capable of watching plays critically even when serious thought is put into sets and costumes. In fact, we do it all the time.
Even now, I am connected to the plights of these odd women in feeling like a “bad” feminist. A great play with great performances by a team of mostly female theatre makers and performers brought down by esthetic critiques. Maybe this play is even more current than I thought.