cringing in the actor van
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
Tonight I did some unusual things. I went to Hamilton, for a start.
I like Hamilton, and spent part of my childhood on top of the "mountain" in Ancaster, but I rarely seem to have much need to go there. Tonight, though, the theater company that my cousin Kate is with put on a show for the Hamilton Fringe festival called "Far From the Tree".
The show was a revelation: I hadn't been to such an intimate venue for a live performance before, and the tiny stage and very minimal set (it consisted of four wooden boxes about 60cm on a side) really drew you in. Which was particularly effective here because it was a small story revolving around five women in three generations of a small and close-knit family. There were several interesting story telling bits that I'm still sorting through.
I was very impressed with the work that this young troupe pulled together; it was a well written and well-rehearsed piece that did many things right: immediately engrossing and spare in every way, it stayed on course "showing, not telling" and moving at a perfect pace. Some more rambling thoughts:
The show starts with an interpretive dance by the middle character. It's not at all clear what's going on, other than that the woman is struggling. From that, the story took a moment to come into clarity, but I think it was the perfect way to start the tale as the dancing returns throughout the course of the play when that character was in a troubled passage. As someone who'd given up a career in ballet for motherhood, the emotion-laden dance seemed to be an expressive outlet that was available in times of need.
The story follows her through three times in her life; teenager in love; very young mother abandoned by her husband; and older mother seeing her children leaving to start their own lives. One of the other actresses deftly switched between sister and mother, seamless making the transition with little more than a change of bearing. The other two had turns playing young children and girls in their teens; one of these is the story's second vantage point, the sensitive younger one, an artist struggling with the disappearance of her father watching her flightier older sister drift from boy to boy.
Initially, the younger daughter is the truth-teller and incendiary one with one foot out the door who challenges the mother and stirs the pot. But she's later the one to try to find a direction both for herself and for her mother. She was the first to speak, in a self-centered teenager's frame, and it's her that ends the play as a confident young woman stepping out into the world. Though she's doing most of the telling, it was interesting how the focus remained on the mother and on the void left by the father.
Through the various scenes the players included the audience in the goings-on by facing into the crowd in opposite directions rather than speaking to one another. A repeating scene around the dinner table was cleverly done by having the cast face out from the tiny stage; they'd turn in the opposite direction from what seemed natural to speak to one another but in so doing included us at the table. Brilliant!
I'm so glad that they've done such a good job of this. Having attended a screening of a movie made by some acquaintances last year, I was still a bit on edge from that experience - when you're somehow connected to a work of creation it's awkward to witness something you can't get into. Happily, I've had better luck with the writings I've read from friends and family - and now stage as well.
I joined a gang of about a dozen that piled into the theater company's rental van for the return trip to Toronto, and had some laughs despite the QEW being down to a single lane. Midnight found us still creeping along, and the fellow who organized the show (and the vans) told me that he was worrying ("cringing in the actor van") about how we'd all take the tedium. Bbut there was a good mix of people in the car (artistic types, so much more personality than the types I traffic with) the time went quickly enough. I alighted from the bus at Union Station and cycled home in the crippling heat for a 01:00 return. How unusual!
The other rarity of the night was getting together with my three uncles and my aunt Maureen. I believe it's the first time I've seen any of them since 2007 - nearly four years! It's been considerably longer than that for the Ottawa contingent - maybe eight years? We had dinner at a German (naturally) restaurant in downtown Hamilton. I had rouladen; not German, I suspect, but damn delicious!
Three good things that happened today:
1. attended a very good play
2. had a fine meal with family not seen in years
3. enjoyed a rare change of pace