Frank Zotter channels his inner sociopathic cop in Sage Theatre’s latest, Filth.

DETAILS

Filth presented by Sage Theatre
Pumphouse Theatre
Thursday, March 11 - Saturday, March 20

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When a play includes a tapeworm on its list of dramatis personae — yes, you read correctly, a tapeworm — you know you’re in for either a dramatized health lesson, or a show that is decidedly out of the ordinary. In the case of Sage Theatre’s current production, Filth, you’re in for the latter. Filth started life as a novel by Scottish writer Irvine Welsh, who burst on to the literary scene in 1993 with his disturbing breakout hit Trainspotting. Filth is Welsh’s third novel, which Harry Gibson adapted for the stage, as he has done with a few of Welsh’s other works, Trainspotting included.

The one-man show centres on corrupt Scottish police officer Bruce Robertson, a character so despicable that when director Kelly Reay approached Frank Zotter to star in the show, Zotter recalls him saying, “I totally understand if you don’t want to do it.”

Zotter, however, rose to the challenge, despite finding the book “disturbing.” He even travelled to Scotland last October to prepare for the show. “This play is so Scottish-centric, Edinburgh-centric, in fact, that it really mattered to attach the actual sights, sounds and smells to the play,” he says. His 10-day journey included visits to the actual pub that Robertson frequents in the play, the neighbourhood in which Robertson lives (Colinton, which Zotter likens to Calgary’s Bankview district), and the one which he patrols.

“I didn’t expect he would live in that area,” says Zotter, as though Robertson exists in flesh-and-blood. “There are lots of children, families and people with poor fashion taste,” he laughs. (The latter observation doesn’t apply to Bankview, he assures.)

Zotter says he met many “colourful” people along the way who readily shared their stories and observations of life in Edinburgh. In fact, he collected 18 hours of recorded voices on his iPod, all of which he says helped him develop the 25 other characters he depicts in Filth, including Robertson’s wife, a younger cop, an East Indian doctor, a 15-year-old girl whom Robertson exploits and, of course, the tapeworm. Needless to say, Robertson spent a lot of time perfecting a Scottish dialect.

Zotter recalls having to search hard to find the dodgy side of Edinburgh, something he attributes to the city undergoing a facelift in the past decade or so. “My sister came with me,” he says. “She would be the danger gauge. If things seemed too freaky, we wouldn’t go.”

The play opens as Robertson is charged with investigating a murder. It quickly becomes evident, however, that the play is really about Robertson’s life and character rather than any criminal investigation.

“It’s about a man who is playing with the system,” says Zotter. “It follows his internal psychological journey, examining the extent to which conscience can be banished. As much as he denies accountability, there is a sort of natural force that makes accountability occur. You can’t deny truth; it rears its head up like a tapeworm. Karma comes back at you. If there’s some sort of moral lesson to the play, that’s it.”

“He [Welsh] is saying if you live life recklessly, it will come back and bite you in the ass,” he adds, noting that Welsh, himself a former drug user, is trying to “mirror things” rather than attempting a morality lesson.

The tapeworm is symbolic of those self-induced repercussions. “Tapeworms happen because you eat improperly, because you toxify your system,” he says. “They eat through your insides. If you live like that — playing games with people, taking drugs — you’re feeding yourself a lie and you yourself can end up feeding off that as well.”

However, when depicting a rotten character, an actor can’t play him as such according to Zotter. “Even though his actions are despicable, you can’t play a character as a villain. You have to find some humanity in him,” he says, hinting that the audience will get some explanation regarding Robertson’s psyche near the end of the play.

In fact, Zotter draws a parallel between Robertson and a quintessential bigot. “When we encounter those people who can speak their minds, like Archie Bunker, whether you agree with them or not, the fact they can speak their minds and be proud of it gives them a certain charm,” he says.

Racism also raises its head in Filth. “It’s proudly Scottish, proudly white Scottish,” says Zotter. “It mirrors certain perspectives in Scotland — how essential and proud that history is.”

With all the weighty material Zotter deals with for the show’s 80 minutes, not to mention the number of different characters he plays, it’s not surprising he compares his early run-throughs of the show to a “root canal.”

This outing won’t be his last with Filth. After heading to Edmonton for another show, he’ll be working with Sage in July to take Filth to the Winnipeg Fringe Festival to see how well the show tours.

“I have 46 pages in my head,” he says. “Having to memorize all that, all these characters with their accents, I want to give the show more life.”