When telling the story of the Holocaust, one effective way to overcome our sheer inability to comprehend the scope and scale of such atrocities is to zoom in on one or two stories: share one particular experience, in all its brutal specificity, and we have at least a small way into the event—the small details illuminate the larger whole.

One theatre company from the Netherlands, Hotel Modern, takes a related approach in KAMP (CAMP). The production depicts a typical day at the Auschwitz concentration camp, but instead of zooming in into a closeup, it shrinks everything down, literally, into miniature. It’s the accumulation of thousands of small details that has the impact in this case.

Eleanor McMahon thinks it’s time to change the conversation around cycling in Ontario.

McMahon is the founder of the Share the Road Cycling Coalition, who will be hosting the fifth annual Ontario Bike Summit this week in Toronto. She says that we need to stop talking about things like bike lanes and other bicycle infrastructure as a zero sum game between cars and bikes.

“We do polling, and our polling tells us that 89 per cent of Ontarians are both drivers and cyclists,” she says. “The notion that it’s cars versus bikes is overblown, and it’s really not working anymore. Deciding to change the conversation means going out of our way to poke holes in that idea and say from the get go ‘We don’t buy into that philosophy, and just because you say it, doesn’t make it true.’ ”

Even with the success of acts like Lonely Island and Flight of the Conchords, people still tend to view musical comedy with some suspicion, and not without reason. Those high-profile success stories aside, at the club level, musical comedy is too often the province of people who aren’t quite good enough to make it as musicians, but not quite funny enough to make it as comedians.

Two local comics, Robert Keller and Rush Zilla, are out to change that perception with their show, Off Key Comedy, which features a wide variety of acts whose only commonality is that they combine music and comedy in one form or another. The third edition of the monthly show will take place on May 23, at Comedy Bar.

Despite the fact that the last show in Buddies in Bad Times Theatre’s 2012/2013 season is titled Of a Monstrous Child: A Gaga Musical, Lady Gaga herself takes a secondary role. There are no homages to raw-meat dresses and gold-plated wheelchairs here. Instead, writer and director Alistair Newton uses the House of Gaga as a pathway into the history of the notable performance-art stars that came before her in the pantheon of queer iconography, and how she is and isn’t a construct of all of them put together.

Joe Cobden and Michelle Monteith turn their flashlights on dark corners of two suburban homes in Little One. Photo by Nir Bareket.

Little One and Other People’s Children
Tarragon Theatre (30 Bridgman Avenue)
February 14 to March 17, 8 p.m., weekend matinees at 2:30 p.m.
(In This World replaces Little One to March 24.)
$27–$53
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Ask her at any time what she’s working on, and Hannah Moscovitch will probably rattle off commissions for a handful of major Canadian theatre companies, other work for an American group interested in associating itself with such a buzz-worthy playwright, and a radio drama or TV episode to boot. At 34 years old, Moscovitch is a name synonymous with what’s next in Canadian theatre, and Tarragon Theatre, the place that kicked off her success, is now celebrating her with a double bill of two plays about the more sinister side of family life.

The first play of the evening is the dark (in both colour and tone) thriller Little One, in which Moscovitch makes a case for only-child families. Aaron (Joe Cobden) and Claire (Michelle Monteith) are adopted siblings living in an upper-middle class neighbourhood in Ottawa. His folks died in a fire, while the fate of hers is unknown—she was found alone in an abandoned building. Whoever Claire’s parents were, they left their mark: she soon displays disturbing behaviour in class, towards animals, and towards a neighbourhood man. Big brother Aaron always ends up paying the price, whether it’s having his belongings destroyed by Claire or sacrificing sports and friends for family quality time and group therapy sessions.

Aaron transitions between the past and the present as he tells the story of growing up with his sister, whom he describes as “a monster” from the outset. Monteith makes that easy to believe as she creeps around the theatre, lit from underneath by a flashlight (not just campfire gimmickry, it reappears in a pivotal scene) while she tells a different but equally chilling tale from another home on the block, where an IT worker lives with his mail-order bride, Kitty.

Cobden is devastating as adult Aaron, simultaneously furious over his lost childhood and guilt-ridden over his sister’s fate. His transition from confused childhood to combative adolescence is subtle but gripping. Meanwhile, Monteith is perfectly cast as Claire. She pulls off a terrifying innocence as only she can.

The real star, though, is Moscovitch’s writing. She builds captivating memory play, descriptive monologues, and a chilling twist ending. With direction from Natasha Mytnowych and the team from its 2011 SummerWorks production, Little One is a big hit.

Niki Landau, Elisa Moolecherry, and Gray Powell in Other People’s Children. Photo by Nir Bareket.

Less successful is the second half of the double bill, Other People’s Children. It’s another unhappy look at family life, only this time it’s from the parents’ perspective. Ilana (Niki Landau) and Ben (Gray Powell) are two busy career people who happen to have a newborn, so they hire a Sri Lankan live-in nanny, Sati (Elisa Moolecherry), who immediately forms a strong bond with the baby. The rest unfolds as one expects—Sati begins to threaten Ilana’s roles as both mother and wife. At the same time, cracks widen in Ilana’s marriage with Ben amid consistent, mutual accusations of infidelity. We discover Ilana experienced postpartum depression.

While Moscovitch leads her audiences through Little One with tantalizing crumb after crumb, she’s much more heavy-handed here. Ilana and Ben describe their marital problems in detail, in front of their bathroom mirror. Meanwhile, the intrigue surrounding Sati’s current family situation (her husband’s in Japan, and her three kids are supposedly with her sister in Sri Lanka) is supposed to be Moscovitch’s signature “big reveal,” but it’s too obscure to have its intended impact. Instead, director Paul Lampert delivers a muddled Desperate Housewives-esque episode with none of the camp. And though it’s quite refreshing to see a chronological play that goes from beginning, to middle, to end, it’s clear that memory plays like Little One are still Moscovitch’s strength.

Lisa Berry, Sergio Di Zio, and Ari Cohen. Photo by Cylla von Tiedmann.

This Is War
Tarragon Theatre (30 Bridgman Avenue)
To February 3
Tuesday to Friday at 8 p.m., Saturday at 2:30 p.m. and 8 p.m., and Sunday at 2:30 p.m.
$13–$53

There are few people Hannah Moscovitch’s age who have written enough exceptional plays to justify a mini-festival of their work, but the 34-year-old playwright has one of those scheduled at Tarragon Theatre. Three of her plays—Other People’s Children, Little One, and In This World—will run in February and March.

She’s kept herself busy in other mediums, as well. Outside of theatre, Moscovitch is probably best known for her writing on Afghanada, the CBC radio soap about a Canadian infantry platoon serving in Afghanistan. The show was a victim of last year’s CBC cuts. After it wrapped production, Moscovitch still had some ideas. They fuel the trauma-focused interviews in one of her plays, on now at Tarragon: This is War.

Four soldiers, being interviewed by a silent, offstage journalist, seem initially reluctant to give anything more than the most straightforward of answers. As part of a culture that places an emphasis on operational security, they’re sometimes openly hostile. Captain Stephen Hughes (Ari Cohen), assuming his questioner has a pacifistic bent, states flatly about the Afghani, “They were the enemy. If they were dead, we’d done our job.” Master Corporal Tanya Young (Lisa Berry) and injuried Private Jonny Henderson (Ian Lake) are similarly defensive when it comes to their combat experience. But the soldiers gradually begin to open up.

The effect is heightened by the close-quarters set, designed by Camellia Koo. It cocoons the actors and audience in camoflage netting, and seems nearly stifling (we wondered if the heat had been nudged up in the Tarragon’s Extra Space).

The story Moscovitch weaves doesn’t conceal the truth, Rashomon-style. In flashbacks, we see everything the soldiers are trying to conceal from their persistent unseen interviewer. All of them have something they’re hiding: clandestine trysts (more common among CF members than both the brass and public probably think) and lapses in judgement—but, most of all, pain, suffering, and guilt.

Perhaps most interesting of all is Sergio Di Zio’s medic, Sergeant Chris Anders. Anders is differentiated in several ways from the others. Most significantly, he’s not a combatant. His stress derives from his responsibility to manage the stresses of others. He has to make the call when a soldier crosses that nebulous line between being under pressure, and being about to crack from it.

A strong case could be made that none of the four characters in This is War should still be in combat, and that repeated and prolonged tours have compromised their abilities to make rational decisions. But they have a (terrible) job to do, an ingrained sense of duty, and the shared sense that despite all they’ve suffered, they may still be better able to do the job than anyone else. Moscovitch makes this point clearly: in a theatre of war, where soldiers are frequently forced to suppress normal instincts and desires, everyone is injured, though not necessarily physically.

Amy Rutherford stands on trial with Peter Hutt, Mark Correia, Katie Frances Cohen, Emma Burke-Kleinman, and Elliot Larson in The Children's Republic. Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann.

The Children’s Republic
Tarragon Theatre
(30 Bridgman Avenue)
November 8 to December 18, Tuesdays to Saturdays at 8 p.m., Saturday and Sunday matinees at 2:30 p.m.
$25–$46

In times of tragedy, injustice, and horror, it’s hard to put oneself in the place of those suffering—especially in the place of children. From the perspective of an outsider, we assume children must have lacked the strength of character and mind to properly deal with events like the Holocaust. We see them as passive participants, protected by the adults in their lives. However, that’s a mindset that Dr. Janusz Korczak worked to eradicate.

The Children’s Republic, a co-production between Tarragon Theatre and the Harold Green Jewish Theatre Company, is based on the life of Korczak, a doctor and author who ran an orphanage for Jewish children in Warsaw from 1912 to 1942. While children were either ignored or belittled by adults at the time, Korczak treated his wards as equals, addressing their concerns, fears, triumphs, and quirks with respect. We begin in 1938, with Korczak (Peter Hutt) bringing young teen (he’s not sure how old he is) Israel (Mark Correia) off the streets and into the orphanage. There we meet other charges, a brassy but loving Mettye (Katie Frances Cohen), a well-spoken but timid Misha (Elliott Larson), and later, violin prodigy Sara (Emma Burke-Kleinman). With his no-nonsense assistant Stefa (Kelli Fox), Korczak provides a home for these children to attend school, deal with their troubled pasts, but also to love and be loved by new friends, sing songs, and be kids. That is until Act Two starts, and we are plunged into 1942; the orphanage moves into the Jewish Ghetto, with food and medicine quickly depleting. The time for child’s play is over, and as Korczak and Stefa desperately try to keep all 200 of their orphans alive, they end up relying on the maturity and courage of those they’re trying to protect.

The Children’s Republic is the latest from playwright Hannah Moscovitch, teamed up again with Alisa Palmer who directed Moscovitch’s breakout hit East of Berlin. While it isn’t her best work yet, it is yet another example of why she’s one of Canada’s most exciting talents. The first act relies heavily on the characters of the children—their personalities, their back stories, and their relationships with each other. But, as hard-edged as they are, they’re willing to divulge few details, which is just as frustrating for the audience as it is for Korczak. Stefa comes off as such a naysayer that it’s unclear as to how she partnered with Korczak in the first place. While the character of schoolteacher Mrs. Singer (Amy Rutherford) is a useful foil for the doctor, showing just how radical Korczak’s attitudes towards children were at the time in a “trial” after she rips up a drawing by Israel, most of the first act comes off with low stakes.

But the second act, with an arresting set change (designed by Camellia Koo) done onstage by the children, really shows that Moscovitch is at her best when her characters are at their worst. Both Hutt and Fox reveal new dimensions to their characters, a compassionate Stefa and a frightened Korczak, while the children take theirs to new heights. Cohen, Correia, Burke-Kleinman, and Larson all show an impressive maturity when tackling such demanding situations, as well as frivolity, with Moscovitch’s well-placed reminders that they are still children after all who still tease each other about cooties and boyfriends.

While Korczak’s story will be new to most people, and the experiences of the children caught in the middle of the Jewish Ghetto aren’t often told, The Children’s Republic resembles a tale we’ve heard before and misses the unique voice that Moscovitch does so well in East of Berlin and this year’s SummerWorks offering, Little One. Nevertheless, it is a well-acted, well-written, haunting, and heartfelt exploration of the strength of moral character in times of horror, no matter the person’s age.

The festival kicks off at the SummerWorks opening party. Photo by Stephanie Tonietto/SummerWorks.

It’s been about a week since the skies opened up and summer arrived on the streets of Toronto. And by that, of course, we mean the SummerWorks Theatre Festival. Starting last Thursday and continuing until this Sunday, 42 plays and more than a dozen music acts are taking over West Queen West in celebration of new, bold, and unconventional artistic projects in theatre, dance, and music. Even with a tiny hiccup concerning federal government funding a few months ago, artistic producer Michael Rubenfeld and the rest of the play-going community are not letting the festival—which gets larger and larger every year in attendance and scope—lose its momentum.
Frankly, we haven’t let ourselves slow down either. With barely a breather after the Toronto Fringe Festival, Torontoist has been sprinting from Theatre Passe Muraille, to The Theatre Centre, to the Lower Ossington Theatre, to the MOCCA Courtyard (for some much needed R&R), separating the best from the rest. Now, we’ve whittled down our list to the top 10 most noteworthy shows (in quality, concept, or impact), and presented them in one handy little article. How nice.
Of course, we haven’t seen everything there is to see yet, let alone written about everything we’ve seen (honourable mentions go to Elora Gorge, Malaria Lullaby, and I—so if you feel there is a glaring absence in our list please make your own recommendations. Otherwise, don’t let the rain stop you from getting out and enjoying a bit of Summer while you still can.

Little One

Theatre Crisis
Theatre Passe Muraille Mainspace (16 Ryerson Avenue)
August 9, 5:30 p.m.
August 11, 10:30 p.m.
August 13, 8 p.m.
August 14, 3 p.m.
As soon as Michelle Monteith emerged from the darkness to begin Little One with a monologue accompanied by a young Asian piano-playing girl with a red ribbon in her hair, lit only by a flashlight held beneath her chin making her normally delicate face look grotesque, her voice high and chilling, we knew that all the buzz surrounding this show was about to be justified. From the team responsible for the past SummerWorks smash The Russian Play, “it” playwright Hannah Moscovitch’s newest work explores two adopted siblings—Monteith as the deeply troubled Claire and Joe Cobden shines as her patient yet tortured older brother Aaron. Aaron also acts as the play’s narrator, telling the story of his childhood and adolescence dealing with Claire and her destructive behaviour as an adult, still haunted by her presence. It’s never revealed exactly what happened to Claire to send her off the edge as a toddler (though, we have a really good guess, and it’s not pretty), all the audience knows is that now she is unable to distinguish between loving something or someone, and hurting them.
Little One is a perfect storm of theatrical elements. Monteith and Cobden are perfectly cast, from their temperament even to their stature. Director Natasha Mytnowych (associate director of programming at Canadian Stage Company) captures tiny moments to send shivers up your spine, while Kimberly Purtell’s lighting, Michael Gianfrancesco’s set and costumes, Eric Meadow’s sound and Lily Ling’s music direction all work in harmony to create the most inharmonious atmosphere. If you’ve ever thought your younger sibling was a pain in the neck, catch this show. It will stay with you. (Carly Maga)

Mr. Marmalade

Amy Keating in Mr. Marmalade. Photo by Simon Bloom.

Outside The March
St. Mary Catholic School, Kindergarten Room 219 (20 Portugal Square)
August 9, 7 p.m.
August 10, 7 p.m.
August 11, 7 p.m.
August 13, 3 p.m.
A young girl’s imaginary companions reflect the abusive behaviour she’s observed in the adults in her life in Mr. Marmalade, a site-specific piece set in a bright and sunny kindergarten playroom at a Catholic school, across the street from the Factory Theatre. The narrator/guide (Ava Jane Markus) leads the audience back and forth to various areas of the large open space, as young Lucy (Amy Keating) interacts with imaginary “friend” Mr. Marmalade (David Storch), a harried executive with unsavoury habits that Lucy idolizes; Bradley (Sebastien Heins), Mr. Marmalade’s enabling and put-upon personal assistant; and real-life foils like Larry, a jaunty and bullied boy who’s attempted suicide several times. The witty script by Noah Haidle sends up all sorts of adult misdeeds through the prism of Lucy’s playtime, and while the entire cast digs into the absurd situations with relish, Storch in particular is excellent as the charming but dangerous title character. While the play moves swiftly from scene to scene, it exceeded its stated running time by at least 15 minutes at our viewing; however, we hear edits have been made since then to ensure it doesn’t go over 75 minutes. (Steve Fisher)

Freda and Jem’s Best of the Week

Thompson and Fine
The Factory Studio Theatre (125 Bathurst Street)
August 10, 10:30 p.m.
August 11, 5:30 p.m.
August 12, 8 p.m.
Freda and Jem’s Best of the Week is about the life and death of a family—a family that is born at a nightclub, blossoms around the kitchen table at the end of the week, and ultimately falls apart, at no particular time or place. It encapsulates love and loss, beginnings and endings, history and the future, adolescence and identity. In other words, it could be about any family struggling with the tribulations of a divorce. But, it’s not. Jem and Freda are also a lesbian couple, with two teenage kids who see the split as the end of their family bonds. But as ludicrous as it sounds that a breakup between two heads of household would mean the imminent dissolution of the family unit, it’s just as ludicrous to think that the sex of Jem and Freda would make their breakup any less heartbreaking.
Freda, Jem, their daughter Sam, and son TeeJay, are a unique family facing the issues that come with that, like a son trying to discuss wet dreams with one of his mothers. But in the end, their story is one shared by about half of married couples today. The script by author and queer activist Lois Fine and direction by Judith Thompson create a fine balance between all of the facets involved—the evolution of Jem and Freda’s relationship, the effect of the breakup on Sam and TeeJay, and Jem’s soliloquies to the audience specifically about lesbianism and “being butch.” In fact, the rest of the creative team is a female theatre tour-de-force, from set/costumer designer Beth Kates, to musician Lorraine Segato, to actors Diane Flacks (Freda) and Kathryn Haggis (Jem), who are captivating. Freda and Jem’s Best of the Week is one of our best of the fest.(Carly Maga)

Stitch

Photo by Ian Brown Photography.

Dependent Theatre Projects
Factory Theatre Studio (125 Bathurst Street)
August 9, 5:30 p.m.
August 11, 8 p.m.
August 13, 10:30 p.m.
August 14, 5:30 p.m.

Playwright Cliff Cardinal’s debut play for a solo performer takes obvious inspiration from crossover porn star Sasha Grey (The Girlfriend Experience), known as much for her uncommon eloquence in interviews as for her ferocious performances in XXX features. He also has an ace in the hole in actress Cara Gee, whose fearless portrayal of “Kylie Grandview” embraces the character’s aggressive sexuality, short temper, and selective insight. Like the characters in HBO’s Californication, Grandview is witty and well-spoken, but increasingly unable to control her self-destructive tendencies. A few cliches about the porn industry squeak at tight corners, but this is an terrific first effort by Cardinal, and Gee, who also shines as a serene Chairman Mao in Birdtown & Smallville’s The Physical Ramifications of Attempted Global Domination, is an early contender for best in fest. (Steve Fisher)

You Should Have Stayed Home

Praxis Theatre / The Original Norwegian
The Theatre Centre (1087 Queen Street West)
August 10, 7:30 p.m.
August 12, 12 a.m. (midnight)
August 13, 10 p.m.

We left the opening of YSHSH pretty upset, and given Tommy Taylor’s story, that reflects well on the effective staging by Taylor and Praxis Theatre; every Canadian should be furious over the gross violation of civil rights that Taylor and his fellow detainees, many of them arrested at random (including a couple dining out at the Keg steakhouse) endured over the G20 weekend. But Taylor, a genial storyteller, also managed to wring a sizable amount of laughter out of the packed opening house, due to the absurdity of the situation. If we had any sway with the powers that be that continue to ignore calls for a full public inquiry, this would be the play they’d been obligated to attend—and especially those politicians who think the policing was handled well.
(Steve Fisher)

Hero & Leander

Common Descent
Factory Theatre Mainspace (125 Bathurst Street)
August 10 7:30 p.m.
August 12 2:30 p.m.
August 13 5 p.m.
With cell phones, texting, email, Facebook, Twitter, Skype, Apple FaceTime, Google Hangouts, and whatever online communication tool is next down the pipeline, gone are the days when a young man would have to swim across an ocean every night to reach his beloved. Other parts of falling in love—the thrill and fear of a new relationship, the torture of unrequited affection, the scorn of jealousy—well, that stuff that will never get old. Hero & Leander is a modern retelling of the ancient Greek myth of the two star-crossed lovers who disregard the gods Venus and Neptune in order to be together, this time with catchy musical numbers and set in Toronto (seen most clearly through a scene taking place in a line-up for brunch). The script, co-written by Kevin Michael Shea (who also directs), Wade Bogert-O’Brien, and Scott Christian, has been years in development, and now the young cast is clearly enjoying a full-out production. The jokes are clever, the singing is beautiful, and the performances are over-the-top, just like they should be. Most notable is Kimberly Persona as an Yzma/Lady Gaga hybrid Venus. Though we’d like to see Neptune’s wrath fully unleashed earlier on in the action, we think Hero & Leander has the chops to brave much larger waters. (Carly Maga)

White Rabbit, Red Rabbit

Necessary Angel Theatre Company/Volcano Theatre
The Theatre Centre (1087 Queen Street West)
August 5, 10 p.m.
August 6, 7:30 p.m.
August 7, 2:30 p.m.
August 9, 5 p.m.
August 13, 5 p.m.
August 14, 7:30 p.m.
It’s impossible to review the quality of White Rabbit, Red Rabbit, since it’s impossible for the same show to happen twice. What we can say, though, is that this is a theatrical experience unlike any we’ve had before. An actor of any age, gender, or nationality, is given an envelope with two things inside: a set of instructions, and the script for White Rabbit, Red Rabbit to be read cold, on the spot, with no idea as to where its words will take them or the audience throughout the evening (other than, at some point, there will be an impersonation of an ostrich). Without giving too much away, the script then takes on many roles—the voice of playwright Nassim Soleimanpour, a commentary on obedience, and a social critique of Soleimanpour’s home of Iran, with a cliffhanger ending of sorts. It’s not your run-of-the-mill play, but for those looking for something different and not afraid of potential audience participation, this could be the pick of the festival.(Carly Maga)

Shudder

Detail of a photo by Jeremy Mimnagh.

hum dansoundart
The Lower Ossington Theatre (100A Ossington Avenue)
August 10, 7 p.m.
August 11, 4:30 p.m.
August 12, 4:30 p.m.
August 14, 7 p.m.

At a festival seemingly dominated this year by work exploring disturbing themes of rape, incest, and child sexuality, Shudder will undoubtedly stand out as the most polarizing show. Our show-going partner declared it “55 minutes of self-indulgence,” and said it’d replaced spoken word as her most loathed form of theatre. We found it fascinating; using the paintings of Francis Bacon as an inspiration, creator/choreographer Susanna Hood and her three limber and seemingly inexhaustible performers explore Electra-like conflicts in a mother/father/daughter trio through movement and vocalization, accompanied by an occasionally jarring sonic landscape. There’s literal interpretation of the show’s title (we observed that a shudder alone is chilling, but a shudder in an embrace is unmistakably sexual), and violent and sexual sequences aplenty; but the most disquieting sequences involved stretching of the mouth, a repeated inability to speak clear thoughts, and direct looks at the audience. You’ll certainly never look at a wig the same way… (Steve Fisher)

Eurydice

The Theatre
Theatre Passe Muraille Mainspace (16 Ryerson Avenue)
<span class="asset-footer"August 4, 5:30 p.m.
August 6, 8 p.m.
August 8, 5:30 p.m.
August 10, 8 p.m.
August 12, 10:30 p.m.
August 13, 12:30 p.m.
Ancient Greeks are so hot right now. First, there was the Canadian Opera Company’s highly praised production of Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice directed by Robert Carsen this past spring, and Canadian Stage Company’s own dance interpretation of that myth Orpheus and Eurydice coming up in November. SummerWorks is not immune either, with Hero & Leander, ONE, and Sarah Ruhl’s Eurydice also stemming from Grecian inspiration. But true to the SummerWorks aesthetic, none are what you’d expect from an ancient tale. Eurydice is an adaptation of the myth of Orpheus travelling to the underworld to rescue his deceased wife, the titular Eurydice, that instead explores her perspective on the matter. This is a stripped-down version of Ruhl’s quirky script, directed by Tarragon’s assistant artistic director Kristina Nicoll, as is necessary for a festival format, but there is lots of room to include more elaborate and complex staging to match such unorthodox characters in the classic tale, like an incredibly stoned Chorus of Stones (Moira Dunphy, Elliott Loran, and Elley-Ray Hennessy) and a Lord of the Underworld (an excellent Jesse Aaron Dwyre) who glides around on a bright red tricycle. But seeing as it’s a tale about a legendary musician, Justin Rutledge as the melancholy Orpheus really brings this Greek classic into the 21st century. (Carly Maga)

ONE

REDtoBLUE Performance
Factory Theatre Mainspace (125 Bathurst Street)
August 9, 5 p.m.
August 11, 10 p.m.
August 13, 7:30 p.m.
August 14, 5 p.m.

This national series entry from Calgary just won a trio of Betty Mitchell awards (that city’s version of Toronto’s Dora Mavor Moore Awards), and it’s easy to see why; ONE is packed with bravura staging and movement sequences, eliciting comparisons to The Overcoat, in its re-imagining of the Greek myth of Orpheus attempting to rescue Eurydice from the underworld. While we had a few reservations about the script (it’s always a little awkward when a character repeatedly shouts “Is anyone there?!” out into a packed audience), the performers, especially Keith Wyatt as a fussy bureaucrat, imbue their archetypes with dextrous flair, and there are set pieces, including several using simple ribbons and props, that you’ll remember long after the story itself fades. (Steve Fisher)
Photos courtesy of SummerWorks unless otherwise noted.
CORRECTION: August 10, 2011, 9:38 AM This post originally indicated that the performers in Shudder explored the Oedipal complex, when in fact the mother/father/daughter characters are technically exploring the Electra complex. We regret the error.