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In Assassins, Any Kid Can Grow Up to Kill a President
John Wilkes Booth (Paul McQuillan), Charles Guiteau (Steve Ross), and Leon Czolgosz (Alex Fiddes) have itchy trigger fingers. Photo by Guntar Kravis.
“Everybody’s got the right to be happy.” This is the recurring chorus at the centre of Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman’s musical Assassins, currently being remounted by Birdland Theatre and Talk Is Free Theatre after a Dora-winning run last year. An unusual refrain for a show about the men and women who have tried—and, in some cases, succeeded—to kill presidents of the United States of America. The subject matter is fairly unusual for a musical, but, then again, this is the same lyrical mastermind who brought us Sweeney Todd.
The performance is set in a dust bowl-style travelling carnival, run by a Machiavellian barker. He entices passing misfits to try a shooting game, promising that all of their disappointments can be solved with one simple action. After all, who better embodies the promises of the American dream than the president? The first shot is taken by the de facto leader of the assassins, a self-important John Wilkes Booth played by Paul McQuillan with excellent smarmy charisma.
What follows is a series of vignettes depicting each individual assassination attempt, some knit together with very generous creative licence. The musical numbers run a full gamut of popular styles throughout American history, from barbershop quartets to pop tunes. Some are comic, but all provide a glimpse of insight into the troubled psyches that would drive individuals to take a shot at the leader of the free world. Especially chilling are Graham Abbey’s emotional rants as Samuel Byck, an unemployed and deeply troubled tire salesman who conspired to crash a plane into Richard Nixon.
The ensemble. Photo by Guntar Kravis.
Other outstanding performances include Steve Ross as Charles Guiteau, the lawyer and failed author who shot James Garfield after the president refused to appoint him ambassador to France. Ross presents Guiteau as a blustering orator, certain of his own greatness but crippled by anxiety. Alex Fiddes is all impotent fury as working man, anarchist, and the assassin of William McKinley, Leon Czolgosz. Christopher Stanton isn’t given the same juicy material as the man who attempted to kill Ronald Reagan to gain Jodi Foster’s love, but he inhabits the character’s bespectacled creepiness so fully that he is always eerily noticeable, even during ensemble numbers.
Geoffrey Tyler does a double turn as Lee Harvey Oswald and the balladeer who narrates several of the stories, and while his acting as the former is powerful, it is undercut by his singing—barely audible, even from the front row—as the latter. Other weak links include Martin Julien as the carnival proprietor, whose showmanship feels awkwardly forced, and Lisa Horner, who goes well over the top as a caricaturized Sarah Jane Moore.
Characters move in and out of the periphery between tales, occasionally plucking up instruments to join the three-piece band. Reza Jacobs’ musical direction makes full use of the varied talents of the cast, though at times the music overpowers the weaker voices. A maudlin soft-shoe number performed by the entire ensemble is an absolute high point, as is a barbershop ode to the movement of one little finger.
Director Adam Brazier takes critical aim at the sense of entitlement that permeates American culture, and at times the sentiment plays as overly sympathetic. In his notes, dramaturge Stefan Dzeparoski goes so far as to categorize the assassins as anti-heroes, a notion that would be very unlikely to fly south of the border—particularly in the present post-Giffords climate. Watching a performance so rooted in observing and deconstructing the American dream can feel a bit detached to us True North types, not to mention educational—it was the first time I had heard of some of the presidents involved, let alone their assassins.
Currently on a one-week hiatus after a sold-out run, Assassins is due to return to the Theatre Centre on January 31 and run through until February 13. Tickets are $35 apiece and are available through Arts Box Office.