Reviews: The Far Side of the Moon, CHILD-ish, Doc Wuthergloom

Anniversary remounts of classic shows can be fascinating, allowing you to see how ahead of its time a particular show once was. Emphasis on the word “was.”

I saw the original Toronto staging of Robert Lepage’s The Far Side of the Moon in 2000, and remember marvelling at the stage magic that helped bring the story of two estranged brothers living in Quebec City — their lives contrasted with the competing space programs of the U.S. and U.S.S.R. — to vivid life.

While much of that theatrical ingenuity still impresses, or at least amuses, in this 25th anniversary presentation (Rating: ✭✭✭), currently on at Canadian Stage’s Bluma Appel (it’s produced by Lepage’s Montreal company, Ex Machina), the black holes in the script’s narrative and presentation are harder to sit through this time around.

It’s the late 1990s, and Philippe is a directionless man approaching middle age and trying to finish his PhD in space exploration. His mother has just died, and so he and his brother André are tasked with settling her affairs, including emptying out her apartment. The two siblings aren’t close, and Lepage tries to contrast their ambivalent relationship with that between the Eastern and Western space programs.

In addition to Philippe’s academic pursuits, he becomes distracted by a challenge to videotape life on earth for a package to be sent into space for other beings to learn from. This unfortunately gives Lepage the license to record — captured on live video — some rather banal earthly matters. But because they’re shown in the context of outer space, these things — and other sequences — are given a sheen of mysticism I’m not sure they fully warrant.

Certainly much of the imagery Lepage evokes can be clever; the circular window outside a washing machine or dryer, for instance, transforms into the porthole of a space ship, or even the entrance to an MRI machine. A banal ironing stand is reconfigured in many ways, some funny, others clever-for-the-sake-of-being-clever.

Other sequences attempt to recapture or reexamine the past; one vignette, prompted by the discovery of a pair of the siblings’ mothers shoes, is quite lovely: brief, haunting, psychologically suggestive. Lepage also uses puppets (designed by Pierre Robitaille and Sylvie Courbron) to wonderful effect.

But it’s hard not to think that in later works the Quebec master would learn how to interweave his storytelling and imagery in more profound and succinct ways. Several scenes go on far too long, with far too little payoff. And there’s an emotional hollowness to this story that, despite the stagecraft and the fine understated performance by actor Olivier Normand as all the characters, leaves one wanting more — or rather less.

A quarter century ago, I remember being stunned by the final image — an ordinary enough tableau that, through simple mirroring effects, suggests the unbearable lightness of being, of drifting through one’s existence, all set to the gentle sounds of the first movement of Beethoven’s 14th piano sonata (the “Moonlight,” of course).

This time around, I found it less effective, less earned. All of Lepage’s works are worth watching, but somehow the gravitational pull of The Far Side of the Moon has weakened over time.

The Far Side of the Moon runs at the Bluma Appel Theatre (27 Front East) until November 16. Ticket details here.

Doc Wuthergloom cures what ails ya

Working with a fraction of Lepage’s budget, Eric Woolfe uses puppetry and stage magic of a different sort to present the much more efficient, low-fi and pleasurable Doc Wuthergloom’s Little Lib’ary of the Damned (Rating: ✭✭✭✭).

Our host is the titular Doc Wuthergloom, a snappish, irritable figure straight out of a 50s carnival (of souls?). He introduces us to the lib’ary of the damned, modelled after one of those free libraries you see on the street but containing curséd volumes. He and his ghoulish characters (all puppets and masks), will help tell these tales in separate vignettes, like those horror anthologies we all know and love so well (Creepshow, the V/H/S series).

Between segments, the Doc engages the audience with a variety of tricks. I’m not sure what Faustian bargain Woolfe has struck (and with whom), but his magic skills have greatly increased over the past few years. The Doc’s rapport with audience members is as spontaneous and nastily clever as ever (I was at a pay-what-you-can matinee, and that in itself warranted some choice insults). But the tricks are really good.

And, of course, so are the funny/scary tales, which build in intensity and ghoulishness until the final one, which could use a tweak or two at the end.

As I think I’ve written before, no one else in the city is doing what Woolfe does. I prefer his long narrative shows, but you should seize any chance to witness the multi-talented master of the macabre at work.

Doc Wuthergloom’s Little Lib’ary of the Damned continues at the Red Sandcastle Theatre (922 Queen East) until Nov. 9. Ticket details here.

CHILD-ish things

Children are fountains of wisdom and clarity. That’s one of the takeaways from Sunny Drake’s entertaining and edifying CHILD-ish (Rating: ✭✭✭), a play taken from verbatim interviews with children yet performed by adults.

Drake interviewed various children over several years, workshopped this piece (I saw an early version at SummerWorks) and got the kids back to work as collaborators. The subjects he asked them about — including everything from love, racism and sexism to suicide and death — ranged widely. Their answers are honest and refreshingly unfiltered.

While the children’s insights are playful and succinct, something gave me the feeling that the cross-section of interview subjects was pretty left-leaning and progressive. It would have been fascinating to hear from children who came from more conservative backgrounds; at the very minimum, the show’s Drake stand-in, an interviewer played by Asher Rose, could have admitted to the bias.

At one point, the interviewer wonders what he would do if one of the kids said something problematic, and the subject doesn’t arise again — a missed opportunity. I’m also not sure we needed to hear about how the piece was constructed; show us, don’t tell us.

Still, there are some profound and quite moving passages about things like depression, mental health and grief. And there’s real, genuine anger from the interviewees on the subject of the environment.

Under director Andrea Donaldson, the show looks terrific; Amanda Wong’s set suggests a casual work environment, with a modular sofa that comes apart and can be reconfigured to evoke different scenarios. Ming Wong has outfitted the four actors (Karl Ang, Janelle Cooper, Monique Mojica and Jordan Pettle) in professional office wear that looks sharp and provides a refreshing contrast to the things they’re saying.

The actors playing the children aren’t exactly playing at being children. Does that make sense? They give their utterances, even when about unicorns, the weight and gravity they deserve, but there are no high-pitched voices or furrowed brows. Which makes what they’re saying even sound even more reasonable.

CHILD-ish continues at the Tarragon Extraspace (30 Bridgman) until Nov. 16. Ticket details here.

Note: Congratulations to Susan O., who won a pair of tickets to CHILD-ish by correctly identifying that Asher Rose plays the interviewer in the show.