Review
THE EDIBLE WOMAN
Theatre Junction
Starring Adrienne Smook, Danny Dorosh and Enid-Raye Adams
Adapted by Dave Carley
Directed by Nikki Loach
Runs until May 15
Dr. Betty Mitchell Theatre (Jubilee Auditorium)
Review
COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW
Theatre Calgary
Starring Victor Ertmanis, Kate Newby, Jennifer Morehouse and Trevor Leigh
Written by Elmer Rice
Directed by Ian Prinsloo
Runs until May 9
Max Bell Theatre (Epcor Centre)
Margaret Atwood’s The Edible Woman was published in 1969 and Theatre Junction’s production of Dave Carley’s stage adaptation never lets you forget it.
From Terry Gunvordahl’s lava lamp-inspired décor to Deneen McArthur’s costumes and Marie Lychak’s wigs, which could have been lifted straight from Valley of the Dolls, this show screams "swinging ’60s." There are times when its look and feel come close to a period parody à la Down With Love. But Atwood’s satirical novel, while unquestionably a creature of its era (the women’s liberation movement, the sexual revolution), is more than that. In the character of Marian, a young woman whose subconscious rebellion at the prospect of a dull, respectable life with a dull, respectable man takes the form of physical queasiness and a hunted-prey fear, Atwood was capturing the trepidation of many young people, then and now, who are torn between social expectations and their contrary instincts.
Some of that is evident in this entertaining production. Nikki Loach’s imaginative staging suggests Marian’s inner turmoil in its swirl of scenes, abetted by Gunvordahl’s animated projections and Peter Moller’s woozy soundscape, in which ’60s pop tunes lurch in and out like passing drunks. And Adrienne Smook is an engaging Marian, humorously evoking a Mary Tyler Moore-style working girl (her favourite expletive is "fiddlesticks"), while at the same time managing to be both wry and vulnerable. But neither Loach nor playwright Carley have caught Atwood’s dark, sardonic side or the more disturbing aspects of Marian’s psychological crisis, which manifests itself in an inability to eat that, while partly symbolic, also alludes to anorexia nervosa.
As comedy, though, it’s very enjoyable, with witty performances by a strong cast – particularly Enid-Raye Adams, sweet and hard as peanut brittle in the role of Marian’s impulsive roommate, who becomes fixated on having a baby, and Michael Scholar Jr., who is full of stray puppy appeal as the eccentric grad student with a passion for ironing that Marian ends up having an affair with. The only miscalculated performance comes from Iam Coulter, whose cartoon turns as a desperate virgin and a termagant landlady belong in a ’60s Hollywood farce, not an Atwood story.
COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW
Sticking with the film analogies, you could describe American playwright Elmer Rice, author of Counsellor-at-Law, as the precursor to Robert Altman. Like an Altman film, this huge (three hours, 32 characters) 1931 legal drama is bustling with colourful personalities, bristling with overlapped dialogue and bids to show every stratum of society. And don’t be put off by its length – it moves at whirlwind speed in Theatre Calgary’s rare and surprising revival (staged on a revolve to keep things on the go) and tells an engrossing tale.
George Simon (Victor Ertmanis), once a poor European immigrant, has pulled himself up by the bootstraps to become New York’s most sought-after lawyer. Taking on sensational big-money cases that make the headlines, while at the same time quietly helping the humble folks from the old neighbourhood, he has friends in Washington, shares on the stock exchange and a blueblood WASP for a wife (Jennifer Morehouse). But his high-flying career is poised to come crashing down when an old rival in the law society discovers that Simon may have helped a criminal avoid prison with a false alibi.
Simon’s battle to save himself is set amid the hurly-burly of his offices on the 23rd floor of a Manhattan skyscraper and director Ian Prinsloo does a fine job of conveying its frenetic atmosphere, with an unflappable switchboard operator-receptionist (Natascha Girgis) presiding over a babbling stream of secretaries, legal assistants, office boys, family members and clients, the latter ranging from socialites (Medina Hahn) and revue stars (Kira Bradley) to immigrant mothers (Heather Lea MacCallum) and Communist rabble-rousers (Jesse Aaron Dwyre). Prinsloo seems to have cast half of the city’s professional actors in this one show (21 of them, many in multiple roles) and the result is a large ensemble production of a kind you’re more likely to see at the Shaw Festival (where this play had its Canadian première in 1992) than at TC.
Some of the acting is Shaw calibre, too. Ertmanis’s beefy, middle-aged Simon doesn’t have the charisma that the play suggests, but in other respects he gives a heroic performance as a driven man who thrives amid chaos and juggles it with aplomb until his life begins to fall apart and, with it, his composure, assurance and civility. His most constant foil is Kate Newby as his super-efficient secretary, as much a workaholic as her boss and with deeply buried feelings for him, which Newby hints at in an expert performance filled with quiet pathos.
Space doesn’t permit a full assessment of the cast, but other standouts include Morehouse’s clammily deceptive wife, Dave Trimble as Simon’s charmingly garrulous spy and Girgis’s hard-boiled receptionist, whose diverting love life proves to be more than just comic relief. And the outstanding design element is Jenifer Darbellay’s costume parade, as varied as the torrent of humanity that pours through Rice’s play. |
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