Review
UNIDENTIFIED HUMAN REMAINS AND THE TRUE NATURE OF LOVE
FireBelly Theatre
Starring Trevor Schmidt, Kattina Michele, Trevor Leigh and Anita Miotti
Written by Brad Fraser
Directed by Abby Charchun
Runs until November 20
Big Secret Theatre (Epcor Centre)
What is the sound of one hand clapping? Part of me wants to applaud FireBelly Theatre’s Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love for digging beneath the lurid, killer-thriller surface of Brad Fraser’s play to expose its vulnerable human stories. But my other hand is forced to give only that seesaw gesture which indicates unevenness and dissatisfaction.
The fact is, Fraser is both a serious dramatist and an unabashed showman who delights in thrilling us, shocking us and making us laugh. Unidentified Human Remains was such a success originally not just because it had something to say, but also because it was immensely, trashily entertaining. FireBelly founder Abby Charchun’s direction leans so far away from the play’s sensationalism that it becomes muted and low-key to a fault.
Fraser’s play begins by teasing us with mock-horror, the S&M hooker Benita reciting with relish famously creepy and gory urban legends, setting us up unwittingly for the real horror soon to intrude on the self-absorbed lives of the main characters. But in this version, Anita Miotti’s New Age-y Benita is a too-benign presence with her hippie togs and throw pillows, and both the humour and scariness of her storytelling is lost.
The rest of the cast appears programmed to underplay, especially Kattina Michele as Candy, Trevor Leigh as Bernie and Aaron Olney as Robert. When the messed-up Candy (who recalls that Velvet Underground lyric, "Candy says, ‘I’ve come to hate my body’") is supposed to stuff her face with junk food in an orgy of self-disgust – a scene described in Fraser’s script as "not a pretty sight" – an imperceptibly distraught Michele settles down for what looks like a little between-meals snack. Olney, as her uptight married lover, may be trying to convey emotional awkwardness, but at times he just appears to be half asleep. And Leigh, an actor known for explosive performances, plays the hard-drinking, violence-prone Bernie as if he were deliberately trying to dampen his powder.
Better are the remaining three actors. As Fraser’s disillusioned gay antihero David, Trevor Schmidt does bitchiness and ennui beautifully. Scott Roberts amuses with his puppy-like enthusiasm as Kane, the teenage boy who idolizes David, while Jamie Konchak brings palpable feeling to her role as Jerri, the loving lesbian cruelly spurned by Candy.
There are exciting moments when this show really kicks into gear. Most notably, when Candy’s two lovers finally, inadvertently, meet, while David looks on as tart-tongued commentator – a scene that crackles with tension. When the actors interact like this, they come to life. But when they go back to performing the play’s fragmentary monologues, their delivery is often clunky or flat.
However, it has to be said that FireBelly’s inaugural production is an impressive-looking one. Charchun’s staging emphasizes the characters’ fundamental isolation by placing them each on his or her own upstage pedestal, backed by large, striking portraits in a variety of styles by a variety of artists, which interpret the characters’ personalities. Terry Middleton casts upon the paintings, and his own multi-scene set, a spooky lighting that resembles both a tangled web and the branches of twisted, leafless trees. The show opens disarmingly with home-movie clips of children at play, suggesting the lost innocence of Fraser’s confused adult characters. All that’s missing is a stronger, more aggressive sound design to knit scenes together and remind us that his people are nocturnal creatures who spend a lot of time in clubs and bars.
Instead, the music, and the show itself, tend to be languidly moody, so that even the grim climax lacks force. Indeed, to use a music analogy, watching this version of Human Remains is a bit like hearing heavy metal played by a string quartet – it’s not uninteresting, but without the visceral cheap thrills it’s not much fun, either. |
Copyright ©2004 FFWD. All rights reserved.