Waiting for good shows

>> A few gems couldn't save English theatre from having an underwhelming year

by AMY BARRATT

"Waiting, waiting, always waiting. I'll never get out of here, I'll die in Casablanca."

For "Casablanca," read "English Montreal." Being an English theatre critic this year has been an endless production of Waiting for Good Show.

I know all of you out there in theatreland think that critics are never happier than when they're trashing something, but it's--in most cases--not true. We're actually quite a hopeful, not to say romantic, lot schlepping off to plays week after week in hopes of being swept off our feet.

Looking back over the year 2000, I can identify a few passionate crushes, but no true loves. I have fond memories of two one-woman shows: Susan Jeremy's P.S.69 (Fringe Festival), about the trials of a substitute teacher, and Maripat Donovan's hilarious but loving portrayal of an old school nun in Late Nite Catechism (Just for Laughs Festival). How depressing, though, that both shows were U.S. imports.

The big subscription companies played it rather safe. Centaur, at least, gave a nod to Canadian content with Venus of Dublin, by Marianne Ackerman and Glenn, by David Young. The first was a big mistake, the second merely problematic. At the Saidye, we had the debut of the Montreal Young Company, and the return of Soulpepper Theatre Co. from Toronto, both much-anticipated, both underwhelming. Despite all the talk of supporting Canadian talent, we have yet to see an actual Canadian play on the boards at Saidye. That is unless we count one of the pleasant surprises of the season: Yiddish Theatre's The Great Houdini. It was based on an American screenplay, but the music and lyrics were by local chaps and the local, amateur cast brought the vaudeville world vividly to life.

Politics suck

But this makes it sound like I only enjoy comedies and musicals. What about substance in this millennial year? There were several valiant attempts, projects one would have liked to praise: Imago's Tell Me About Tigers, for instance, or Black Theatre Workshop's The Crossroads. I can only remember two genuinely thought-provoking shows: Novembre, and Reading Hebron. Produced way back last January by I Spy a Theatre Company and Projet Porte-Parole in a mixture of English and French, Novembre let real Quebecers have their say and revealed our antipathies as well as one seemingly broad consensus: that politics suck.

Teesri Duniya's Reading Hebron may have been flawed, but the play's provocative take on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict was bracing. We also go to the theatre to be offended, and this was the only play I saw this year that came close to that edge.

Robert Lepage's Geometry of Miracles finally made it to town (Usine C last March) and was, of course, visually dazzling, but lacked an emotional core. At least it was a good year for the Fringe Festival, with critics and public alike supporting shows like girls! girls! girls! and 52 Pick-Up.

And Infinitheatre continued to be a factory for new work: I've seen at least four shows they've co-produced just this fall. They've had everything from large-scale flops like Farce, to mini-budgeted gems like--possibly the best new script of the year--Daniel Giverin's The Two Trees.