Bard on the Beach Next Generation

My cover story for this week's WE looks at the next generation of Bard on the Beach.

From left: Charlie Gallant, Amber Lewis and Ryan Beil will be spending another summer getting paid to work at their “dream job": Bard on the Beach.

Credit: Doug Shanks

COVER STORY: Centre Stage

Posted By: Andrea Warner

There are three things that Vancouverites can count on every summer: panic that the rain will never stop; panic over the two weeks of blistering heat; and glimpsing the next generation of the city’s most promising thespians at Bard on the Beach.

Over the course of its 22 years, Bard has cultivated a reputation as one of the best theatre festivals in Canada, and one of the most challenging training grounds for any actor. They offer four Shakespeare or Shakespeare-related works every season (this year’s offerings: As You Like It, Merchant of Venice, Henry VI War of the Roses, Richard II) on the Mainstage and Studio Stage with two casts divvying up the productions. The company’s comprised of a loose core of established veterans who permeate Vancouver’s professional theatre scene, but it also features some relatively new faces. You may not know their names yet, but you will.

With a few seasons already under their belts, Ryan Beil, Amber Lewis and Charlie Gallant are laying the foundation to become the next generation of Bard powerhouses, following in the footsteps of innovators like Meg Roe, Alessandro Juliani, Kim Collier and Colleen Wheeler, to name a few. WE sat down for an informal round-table with the young trio to discuss their love of Shakespeare, behind-the-scenes shenanigans and the summer-camp vibe.

Tell me about your first season with Bard.
Ryan: I’d been trying to get a place in Bard for four or five years, from theatre school until I had a successful audition process. I’d grown up in Vancouver watching this so it was definitely a career milestone my first season and, I don’t know, just the discovery of what an amazing event it is. What an amazing gig to get to come every summer night. Mind-blowing, cool, career milestone. There you go. (Everyone laughs)

Amber: It was amazing. It was really a dream come true in a lot of ways, because it’s an outdoor production and there are amazing people to work with. People lined up every single night to see the show and it was sold out houses. It was an honour.

Charlie: For me I was at theatre school at Studio 58 and I’m from New Brunswick and so coming out here, all I heard from all my theatre friends was “Bard on the Beach is this fantastic festival! It’s amazing, you gotta go. The Shakespeare productions are incredible!”... Then I was in a show in January of my graduating year in 2007 and Christopher Gaze came to see it, as well as Dean Paul Gibson, and they gave me an audition based off my performance in that show. And, I was lucky enough, as soon as I was done theatre school, to jump into my first paying job, which was Bard on the Beach, which is — I didn’t know how cool that was until maybe a couple years later, but nonetheless, I was still kinda dumbfounded that I was working and getting paid for it! (Everyone laughs)

Is there an associated pedigree with Bard you wanted to attain?
Ryan: Certainly I think Bard employs the best actors in the city, if not this half the country or the entire country. I absolutely feel there’s a pedigree and a level one would like to get to.

Amber: I definitely see it in the rehearsal room. I’m still fascinated watching everybody’s work. Sitting there going, “My God, this is amazing!” To get to see actors work through things, lose lines, and try to find those lines, it’s a fascinating process and every one is so fantastic at what they do.

Why did you want to do Shakespeare?
Charlie: Even in high school, I was always obsessed with Shakespeare, I don’t know why. I think it began with a book I had to study in grade 11 or something like that. I don’t know what play it was we were going through, but it was a really good passage, a really good monologue. It might have been Richard II and I was just so captivated with all these things that I’m now learning as an actor that you have to endow Shakespeare with. You have to use what he’s given you as well as — you know, ’cause it’s poetry but how do you speak it, how do you do all this other stuff? At that time, I didn’t have the tools to read it, but at the same time, when I would read it in my head, it was just fantastic stuff. It was saying things I could never, myself, conceive how to express that. That carried through 10 years until finally I was able to have a chance to act it.

Ryan: It’s a multi-faceted challenge for an actor to try to achieve, number one, the extraordinary language, the beautiful crazy amazing wordsmith that Shakespeare was, to tackle that, but then the stories themselves are so compelling, when you finally get into them. The characters are three dimensional, flawed and everything and all of that is seen from beginning to end. Fusing all of that is the ultimate challenge.

Amber: Like Charlie, when I was in high school, I just always connected to Shakespeare. I didn’t know what it meant — like, I would speak the lines and I wouldn’t exactly know what I was saying, but I felt cool saying it. (Everyone laughs) And then later on, through theatre school, I realized there was a freedom in the classics, but specifically Shakespeare. Because of the heightened language and the potency of the words that he uses — we don’t have the vocabulary they used to back then, so there’s a freedom there. As actors, we open our bodies and have, hopefully, an athletic approach to playing in a big space, and then we get to embody this language we would never speak on our own.

Was there an intimidation factor coming on board? Who were you most intimidated by?
Amber: I actually find Ryan Beil kind of intimidating.

Ryan: No! (Laughter from everyone)

Charlie: Yep, I found Ryan Beil intimidating.

Ryan: Well, I’m intimidated by both of you guys. (A chorus of “awws.”) So, what was the question?

Was there someone that intimidated you at Bard, or a veteran in particular you wanted to learn from?
Ryan: I could listen to veteran actors talk about their careers and what they think until the cows come home. I’m big into that. I think it’s a profession where you get better at it, learning from others as the years go by. Those years of experience, to have some of it wash off on me, was pretty incredible. I was just intimidated to hold up my end of the bargain.

Charlie: The first couple days, I didn’t really know anybody by face yet, ’cause I hadn’t seen a lot of them in person before. I hadn’t introduced myself. It was just so evident from the first time we had the table read on day one, who the veteran actors were. I could have closed my eyes. You listen to their voices and how they handle the words and how they connect with it. It’s a slap across the face of like, ‘Yep, these guys are the top,’ you know? And then you realize they’re incredibly friendly, so the intimidation factor sort of went away. It becomes about, well, I was hired, this is the level, how do I not stick out like a sore thumb? (Everyone laughs)

Amber: I felt sort of insecure and then having to talk to myself, like, ‘Okay, you just have to pretend that you belong.’

Fake it til you make it?
Amber: Yeah, exactly. That kinda works. The artists in the company, I mean everyone has strengths... For me, it’s looking at different artists and trying to absorb some of their individual magic.

Are you still considered “youths” as it were?
Ryan: I hope so.

Amber: That would be nice.

Ryan: Every year there are newer people coming in, but I consider myself a youth in the world of theatre and acting. I would still call myself a rookie.

Charlie: I do, mainly because I still feel like I’m replaceable within the company. Vancouver’s a big place, and there are incredibly talented actors who could be my double at times... I’m incredibly grateful that I’ve fought my way back into the company for my fourth year. That keeps me feeling young. Or something. (Laughs)

Ryan: And it’s easy to be hungry for Bard.

Amber: It’s easy to not get in as well. Every year we audition... It’s still competitive.

What has been your silliest Shakespeare moment? It hasn’t all been perfection, I’m assuming.
Ryan: No, my first year I was dressed up — this isn’t the moment  — but I was dressed up like a little boy in a sailor suit and a blonde wig. That in itself is kind of silly. But David Marr was dressed up as my mother, and there was a ball of yarn and knitting sticks involved and there was a rake and a lollipop, and somehow in the confusion we’re all supposed to come together and run away and the twine got around the rake, so we couldn’t drop it and the other actor had to pause and negotiate twine off a rake as he was trying to hold the emotion in his face and his voice, the anger. But everything we did drove the audience to more laughter.

Charlie: Since it’s Bard on the Beach, things can happen that are very funny off stage. The tent is open, you can see outside. One night in Romeo & Juliet, as people got killed off, they had to stay onstage facing out into the night. It was dark and some guy came by with his dog, it was a little pug, and it had a necklace on that would glow and flash, so you could follow where it was going and we have fences around the site that are green, so at night you can’t see them. This dog is just running around, having a great time, yelping, its owner’s having fun with it, and then it suddenly runs into the fence and ‘grrrrrrrrr!’ the whole fence shakes and makes this noise and then this little red thing just stops and falls sideways and there’s like seven of us just staring out looking at and the shoulders start going up and down from laughing. Things outside can effect us on stage because of the outdoor environment.
Ryan: Yeah, like when a party boat goes by and you’re doing a serious scene and it’s like, ‘Can you dig it, Vancouver?!’ Othello’s just found Desdemona dead and there’s a DJ swearing into a microphone.
Charlie: And, within half a second Christopher Gaze is out on the rocks waving his fist.

In my mind, this is like an adult summer camp.
Amber: Does that mean, like, we all get naked together? (Laughter from everyone)

Ryan: ’Cause then yes. Yes.

Bard on the Beach begins previews June 2. Tickets and info: BardOnTheBeach.org

Antony and Cleopatra

My review of Antony and Cleopatra at Bard on the Beach.

Jennifer Lines and Andrew Wheeler play the titular lovers in the Bard on the Beach production of Antony and Cleopatra.

ANTONY and CLEOPATRA

By Andrea Warner

It begins with a pillow fight. One of the most historically and politically important, passionate, and mercurial affairs of all time — that of doomed lovers Mark Antony and Queen Cleopatra — opens with a pillow fight: an all-limp, no-bang beginning ominously foreshadowing the next three hours.

Curiously dull but undeniably well-acted sums up the season’s second offering from Bard on the Beach. There’s a reason the tragedy Antony and Cleopatra is one of Shakespeare’s least-staged works. It explores a dense period of complicated political maneuverings that threatens to overshadow — and then ruthlessly overtake — its titular lovers. The play is made up of two competing storylines, and our heroes lose. Badly.

The action begins in the middle of an historically accurate maelstrom. Julius Caesar has been assassinated and Rome is now ruled by an uneasy triumvirate consisting of Mark Antony (Andrew Wheeler), Caesar’s adopted nephew Octavian (Haig Sutherland), and Marcus Lepidus (Allan Morgan). In addition to this intrigue, Antony finds himself distracted by Caesar’s former lover, the beguiling Egyptian queen, Cleopatra (Jennifer Lines).

Political machinations, misunderstandings, and epic battles ensue, and Antony proves he’s ruled by his hubris and his libido. Defeated by Octavian (who has now taken the name of Caesar), the lovers famously commit suicide to avoid capture: Cleopatra by clutching a venomous snake to her breast, Antony by falling on his sword.

The historical record here is messy and complicated enough, even without dramatic flourishes. The play’s most obvious challenge is that the action occurs offstage and is later explained in momentum-killing expository monologues. But actor-turned-director Scott Bellis’s vision for his two main characters is the production’s most baffling derailment. Antony and Cleopatra are, by turns, love-sick, petulant, and childish (they could be prototypes for Chuck and Blair’s spoiled shenanigans on Gossip Girl). We never fully glimpse any of the steely determination implicit in Egyptian royalty or a Roman warrior.

That Cleopatra comes off as merely manipulative rather than cunning is no fault of Lines, who’s reliably devoted to infusing every line and every stare with nuance and emotion. Wheeler’s Antony feels rudderless, but again, through no fault of the actor’s, who does his best to be commanding in the face of every infantile, moony moment.

Despite fine performances, there’s no passion or intensity on display. Antony and Cleopatra are meant to be wild forces at work. Here, they giddily collide without much impact.

Antony and Cleopatra runs to Sept. 24 on the Mainstage of Bard on the Beach in Vanier Park, 8pm. Tickets $18.75-$38 from 604-739-0559 and BardOnTheBeach.org

Othello

My review of Othello, on until mid-September at Vancouver's Bard on the Beach, appears in this week's WE.

Michael Blake as Othello (left) and Brad Frazer as Iago, in Bard on the Beach’s Mainstage production of Othello.

OTHELLO
Running in repertory with The Comedy of Errors, to Sept. 26 on the Mainstage in Vanier Park, 8 p.m. Tickets $18-$34 from 604-739-0559 and BardOnTheBeach.org

By Andrea Warner
Like some other Shakespeare plays, Othello, a powerful and damning indictment of jealousy, self-doubt, and betrayal, has always dwelled in the thorny briar patch of ‘Is it racist?’ Given that, at its most stripped-down, it’s essentially the story of a black man’s life ruined by a white man’s vengeful schemes, the question is a fair one, but one this production makes no attempt to answer. Instead, director Dean Paul Gibson amps up the play’s dark humour, dulling the seething rage that should propel Othello from start to finish.

The titular character (Michael Blake) is a Moorish (Renaissance English for “black”) general in the Venetian army who is married to Desdemona (Naomi Wright), a white Senator’s daughter. When he promotes Cassio (Kevin MacDonald) over his right-hand man, Iago (Bob Frazer), the latter secretly swears revenge and sets out to sabotage Othello. Thus begins an elaborate scheme, wherein Iago convinces Othello that Desdemona and Cassio are having an affair, driving Othello into a jealous — and ultimately murderous — rage.

The charming Blake and Wright have great chemistry together, from their playful young love to the final, horrifyingly violent struggle. Wright, the beating heart of this production, possesses a confident elegance that anchors every scene she’s in, particularly those shared with Iago’s wife, Emilia (Jennifer Lines).

However, it is a cruel irony that a truly successful Othello hinges on a great Iago, and that’s where this production falls short. As with some of the other Bard on the Beach productions in which he has appeared, Frazer seems to be in a different play than everyone else. He bucks the melodic lilt of Shakespearean language, sounding instead like a thoroughly modern man raised on a steady diet of deadpan, sitcom-styled line delivery. His Iago rarely rises above the level of a high-school Machiavelli busily testing the sociological effects of gossip with menace so measly it dilutes Othello from black and white to a muted shade of grey.

Titus Andronicus

My review of Bard on the Beach's Titus Andronicus appears in this week's WestEnder. Pick up a copy if you get a chance!

Titus Andronicus
By Andrea Warner


Considered one of the most structurally problematic of Shakespeare’s plays, and certainly his most violent and bloody, Titus Andronicus is often dismissed in favour of staging more straightforward tragedies such as Macbeth or Hamlet. Thank goodness Kim Collier (making her directorial debut with Bard on the Beach) possesses no such fears about grappling with such dark material.

Collier’s Titus Andronicus is relentlessly gripping and disturbingly modern as themes of revenge and evil reveal themselves in unthinkable and senselessly violent acts. Titus returns from war, victorious, with Tamora, Queen of the Goths, and her children as prisoners. Titus, mourning the loss of his sons in battle, sacrifices Tamora’s eldest child and she vows her revenge. Saturninus, the new Emperor, wishes to marry Lavinia, but Bassiana (a male character in the original Titus, but overtly lesbian here to complement Collier’s 21st century setting), his sister, has already claimed Lavinia as her own. Saturninus takes Tamora as his wife, who continues to dally with Aaron, her Moorish lover, the puppeteer who orchestrates the vile and contemptuous chain of events that follow.

This is the same cast that sparkles so brightly in the delightful Tempest. The material is strikingly different, and the cast nimbly and successfully delivers fantastic performances with characters that are polar opposites.

Omari Newton’s Aaron is a solid presence as the devil’s henchman, glowering and conniving, manipulating Tamora and her Euro-trash psycho sons into doing his bidding. Newton is a physically powerful actor, but the character doesn’t have much depth except that he loves to do bad things. It will be interesting to see what Newton does with a truly three-dimensional role in the future.

Jennifer Lines’ Tamora could not be more opposite than her Tempest character, Ariel. The physical transformation is wondrous: she fills out the tight confines of Tamora’s outrageous outfits and spiked heels, exuding authority and confidence, asserting her sexuality with every word. The skin crawls when Tamora instructs her sons to be as violent as possible when raping Lavinia, directly proportionate to their love for their mother.

Julie McIsaac (Lavinia), Charles Christien Gallant (Demetrius), and Kyle Rideout (Chiron) are tasked with the most disturbing scenes. McIssac is truly devastating as she pleads to be spared and then pleads for her death before the brothers take her offstage for the attack. In the aftermath of the attack, as McIssac lies bloodied and battered on the ground, Gallant taunts her and Rideout takes out a digital camera, posing beside her and laughingly taking pictures. Their off-handed and casual glee in having repeatedly raped and then mutilated Lavinia is affectively sickening.

Russell Roberts, as the title character, carries the weight of the world on Titus’s shoulders, but he’s never more effective than in Titus’s debilitating discovery of Lavinia’s rape and torture. He cries real tears, and conveys beautifully Titus’s realization that he’s powerless to protect his children. Later, Roberts takes great pleasure in one of the production’s few funny moments, as he pretends to be crazy to fool Tamora and her sons. Finally, as he succumbs to the madness of his revenge, slitting Chiron and Demetrius’s throats, then feeding the boys to their mother in a baked pie, Roberts makes Titus’s descent painfully human.

The blood flows as freely in Titus as the wine did in Tempest, but it never feels silly or gimmicky. Each violent act resonates deeply so don’t be surprised if by the intermission you feel physically ill. This Titus Andronicus packs an emotional punch that is so visceral, you’ll wonder if maybe you didn’t leave part of yourself behind when the lights come up.

The Tempest

My review of the Tempest appears in this week's WE. Pick up a copy today!

The Tempest

By Andrea Warner

Like the very word from which it derives its name, The Tempest, has proved to be an uncontrollable force in Shakespeare’s canon. Originally labeled a comedy, it has gone on to defy scholarly expectations because of a deceptively simple narrative that masks grander themes of vengeance, the occult, and colonialist tendencies. That Shakespeare was a tricky guy, and he’s met his match in Meg Roe’s wonderfully magical reinvention of The Tempest.

Prospero —a Duke usurped by his brother, Antonio—washed up on a magical island with his daughter Miranda fifteen years ago. Prospero seized control of the island from the witch, Sycorax, and has enslaved her deformed son, Caliban. Ariel, a sprite, is eager to be freed from Prospero’s service, but is held to one more day of service as Prospero enacts revenge upon his brother, and washes the King’s boat ashore, stranding Antonio, the King, and several members of the King’s court. Prospero separates the Prince from his father, in the hopes that the Prince and Miranda will fall in love.

The Tempest’s opening minutes are electrifying, indicative of what’s to follow. With the use of a simple heavy rope, the cast and crew physically form the hull of the ill-fated ship, and struggle against the commanding storm Prospero has raised. It’s no easy feat to simulate a believable storm, and there were more than a few audience members steadying themselves in their seats throughout the sequence.

The ongoing physicality of the supporting actors is impressive, particularly Hamza Adam, Omari Newton, and Charles Christien Gallant, as Spirits and various mariners. Their movements are lithe and graceful, but strong, and bring remarkable energy to the stage.

Jennifer Lines’ great performance is also due in part to her physical embodiment of Ariel: eager to please (her knees turn in and one foot juts out in nervousness); desperate to know if Prospero really loves her (her face a mixture of hope and yearning); and anxious that her bidding buys her freedom (her eager flight for each task). Lines’ is incredibly light on her feet, and her energy never lags. She also possesses a lovely voice.

Allan Morgan delights in his character’s sadistic elements, but keeps Prospero playful as well. It’s hard to keep a steadying hand on Prospero’s multifaceted personality (perhaps also a commentary on mental illness?) but Morgan makes it effortless. And, his closing speech as Prospero asks the audience’s forgiveness is appropriately rueful—after all, to err is human.

Though the rest of the cast is also very talented, it’s Colleen Wheeler and Naomi Wright who steal the final accolades here as Stephana and Trincula, two ladies from the court who wash up on the island with a fondness for the drink. Their initial scene post shipwreck (mistaken identity, an eyebrow raising mounting) is possibly the funniest thing on stage this year. Wheeler (a modern-day Lucille Ball) plays up Stephana’s cougar-like shine to the slave Caliban (Bob Frazer), who proves game for anything, including foot licking.

Roe’s Tempest offers an onion worth of layered subtext: her clever changes—including gender swapping (as written originally, Miranda is the play’s only female role)—amp up the comedic and provocative nature of Shakespeare’s masterful use of language. This Tempest also plays up its kinkier side: master/slave relationships, interspecies romance, and sexual politics are featured prominently, all but obscuring the 400 year gap between its writing and this staging. The music is unobtrusive and effective, enriching scenes such as the beautiful wedding between Miranda and the Prince. Even the costuming and lighting are inventive. Fresh and frisky, this Tempest blows strong from start to finish.

King Lear review

My review of Bard on the Beach's King Lear appears in this week's WestEnder. Pick up a copy to see the lovely full page layout!

King Lear review
By Andrea Warner
502 words

This ain’t your high school English class’s King Lear. This is your liberal arts college re-imagining King Lear as part comedy, part musical, and part morality tale to show everyone how daringly innovative they are. Get it?

King Lear isn’t the most complex of Shakespeare’s works, but the web of familial deception still packs plenty of modern punch. King Lear banishes the only daughter who truly loves him, Cordelia, because she fails to kiss his ass the way his other daughters, Goneril and Regan, do. Meanwhile, Edmund, the illegitimate son of the Earl of Gloucester, schemes to turn his brother and father against one and other. Everyone’s evil plans unravel in a series of bloody confrontations that come like puncture wounds throughout the last few minutes of the first half and the entire second half.

The story has stayed the same, but Bard on the Beach’s updates to the bloody tragedy take wild liberties that mess with the audience’s expectations, and the results are alternately frustrating and fantastic.

This Lear is a twisted relic, swimming in a wheelchair and a grandfatherly cardigan, his mind starting to corrupt memory and reality as he succumbs to advancing Alzheimer’s.

This Lear’s first half is infused with so much dark humour, sight gags, and laugh-out-loud moments, it feels more like a night at Yuk Yuks than an evening of Shakespeare.

This Lear has a song in his heart and back-up musicians to boot.

Plenty of director James Fagan Tait’s risks work, largely because the cast is an accomplished crew of established and new faces. Robert Moloney (The Glass Menagerie) infuses Edmund with lots of devilish charm, and is a wry and wonderful presence even at his most fiendish. Patti Allen has plenty of bite and sass as Nurse, the only one who seems to be able to tell King Lear the truth. And, Christopher Gaze is given wide range to zigzag powerfully between Lear’s lucid triumphant moments and his descent inside his own crumbling mind.

The cast is also tasked with singing, playing instruments, and providing sound effects like the devastating storm that forces Lear to seek refuge in a hovel. The singing is best reserved for comedic effect, and works fairly well throughout the first act. The second act packs more emotionally turbulent material, and the songs feel heavy-handed. They prove an unfortunate distraction from the actual acting and dialogue.

This is King Lear’s real triumph, and it’s hundreds of years old: language. The insults Lear spits at his daughters are vicious, visceral, and funny. His revelations feel as fresh today as they did then, particularly when he realizes the lip service he was paid throughout his life, admitting ruefully, “They told me I was everything. ‘Tis a lie.” The lessons Lear learns come late in life and are perched atop an incredibly high body count.

Though it earns high marks for innovation, this production doesn’t quite make the grade in effectiveness. Ultimately, this Lear is less a King and more a Prince.