Breath of
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There were plenty of reasons to think Repercussion Theatre might not be up to snuff this year: they just lost their second artistic director in as many years (Paul Hopkins will be taking over the job on August 1); they were abandoning Shakespeare to try Molière-in-the-park, and in two languages nonetheless; and they’d hired a young director with virtually no track record. What a pleasure to report that Amanda Kellock’s is one of the strongest shows in Repercussion’s 19-year history. In its heyday, the company founded by Cas Anvar did bigger, splashier productions, but few were as beautifully realized, or as joyfully cartoonish, as the little gem I saw in its French version last weekend. From the first moments, with all eight actors raising their voices and musical director Nick Carpenter seated on stage at an electronic keyboard disguised as a harpsichord, you feel that you’re in good hands. James Lavoie’s set is not lavish but it is lovely, with deep red drapes and cream-coloured flats delicately painted to look like columns and mouldings. The four young lovers’ costumes all coordinate with this scheme, while the parents, whose role it is to obstruct young happiness, are in shades of blue and grey. In the interest of balancing out male to female roles, one of the fathers of the young men has been turned into a mother: As the miserly Mme. Géronte, Edith Arvisais, a Collège Lionel-Groulx graduate in her first professional show, proves to be utterly at home with the material. In an excellent cast, she is the one to whom the loud, physical style of Molière seems to come most naturally. She has a remarkably supple voice and gets laughs just for crossing the stage. Lavoie’s costume for her is reminiscent of the one he put on Constanze in the Segal’s recent Amadeus, but it’s better suited to both the style and the period here. The swap from father to mother is nothing radical for Repercussion, but Kellock’s mischief doesn’t stop there. Florian Hutter enters in the role of Octave, with Amelia Sargisson as his lady Hyacinthe. But when the text requires Hyacinthe to begin weeping about the parental obstacles they face, Sargisson breaks off in protest. If Hyacinthe must carry on in this way, she says, let Hutter play the part, and she will be Octave. They proceed to trade costumes and finish out the play as each other. With this cheeky switcheroo, Kellock puts her mark on the play, both as a woman—the first woman director in Repercussion’s history, although Jennifer Morehouse co-directed in 1990—and as an actor’s director. Any actress out of her teens realizes that there is no role as tedious as the pretty but useless ingénue. It would be a shame, Kellock seems to be saying, to waste Sargisson’s talents on this wimp. By having her exchange roles with Hutter, she hands both of them an acting challenge, while serving notice that this production will match Molière’s irreverence with its own. Carpenter’s original score references everything from Kurt Weill to ’70s arena rock to ballpark organ, and it deserves a big chunk of the credit for this show being so much fun. Les Fourberies de Scapin/Scapin: The Schemer |
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