by AMY BARRATT

This is the second time this season I find myself comparing a Centaur show to a previous French-language production. First it was Michel Tremblay’s L’État des lieux/Impromptu on Nun’s Island, and now comes Evelyne de la Chenelière’s Des fraises en janvier, translated as Strawberries in January, by Morwyn Brebner.

Now, maybe the best thing to do would be to try to forget the original and judge this production entirely on its own merits. But comparison is inevitable in this case since the Centaur production is essentially the same as the Théâtre d’Aujourd’hui production of one year ago. The original director, Philippe Soldevila, has brought in the same designers to recreate the original look, albeit in a quite different space.

I liked the whole package the first time around, particularly Jean Bard’s set, and I’m not about to find fault with it now, except perhaps that a couple of scenes seem under-lit by Claude Accolas. The effect of the floor, made up of big red squares, each one of which can be lit individually, is still thrilling, and perhaps even more effective in the Centaur space where the audience is looking down on the action.

All that’s left to comment on are the performances and the translation. The latter is one of the best I’ve seen. There are none of those awkward turns of phrase to remind you that this was originally written in another language. I might only quibble that, for a Montreal production, Brebner needn’t have bothered changing "dépanneur" to "corner store".

The actors, who all call themselves Montrealers, either by birth or adoption, are somewhat constrained by having to recreate something rather than create something new. Soldevila has even given them blocking that seems strikingly familiar. He also may have been a little too attached to his original casting choice for the role of Sophie, Macha Limonchik. He has cast an actress in the new version, Geneviève Cocke who, with her mop of curls, bears a superficial resemblance to Limonchik and will inevitably invite comparison. Unfortunately, where Limonchik’s ditziness was charming, Cocke’s leans to the annoying, and her voice tends to grate.

The other three actors are less physically similar to their French-language counterparts. As François, the coffee guy who is adapting the events of his own life into his first screenplay, Marcel Jeannin is lovably goofy. With his long, rubbery limbs, he seems to be all over the stage at once - the kind of guy who’s endearing despite the hat hair. Bruce Dinsmore looks just right - cute but no longer young - as the literature professor, Robert, and earns his share of belly-laughs from the audience. Paula Costain’s Léa is somehow both dreamy and grounded.

On a second viewing, I noticed that Strawberries in January has a bit the feel of a Shakespearean comedy, and not just because of the ending. The script turns on a lot of bizarre coincidences, missed encounters and even hidden identities, without ever turning into one of those frantic farces beloved by "summer theatre." Perhaps de la Chenelière has tapped into a desire for a new genre of "winter theatre" - one that is neither dark and depressing nor frivolous and stupid. Certainly the opening-night crowd seemed warmed and delighted by her play.

Strawberries in January is exactly what it wants to be, and what we need: a tonic for our frosty souls in these dragging days of winter. :

Strawberries in January to March 9 at the Centaur Theatre (453 St François-Xavier) $20–$37, 288-3161

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