ReUnion review

My review of Pacific Theatre's Re:Union is in this week's WE.

Alexa Devine and Evan Frayne star in Vancouver playwright Sean Devine’s Re:Union.

Credit: Supplied

RE: UNION

Last Friday, President Barack Obama announced that all American troops in Iraq would be home for the holidays, thus ending a decade-long war that has long been likened to his country’s Vietnam II. In a strange twist of meaningful coincidence, his declaration coincided with the opening night of playwright Sean Devine’s debut, Re:Union, a multimedia drama borne from the horrific real-life story of Norman Morrison, a young Quaker who set himself on fire to protest the Vietnam War.

But Morrison didn’t simply set himself on fire. He did so with his baby daughter by his side, outside the Pentagon, in front of Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara’s window. Devine’s script bounces back and forth between November 1965 and November 2001, imagining Morrison’s daughter, Emily (Alexa Devine), wrestling with her father’s legacy in a post-9/11 world. She sets a plan in motion to commemorate her father’s sacrifice by committing an act of terrorism on the anniversary of his death and seeks out McNamara (Andrew Wheeler) for help.

Devine poses timely, relevant questions, and features moments of real clarity, humour and compassion throughout. Where Re:Union stumbles is when Devine indulges in phrasing that comes off as academic poetry: stilted, overly aware and unnatural. This is particularly evident in the scenes between Morrison (Evan Frayne) and Emily, as father and daughter confront the circumstances of his death. It’s a marked contrast to the rapid-fire exchanges between Emily and McNamara, which spark with tension and intelligence. Wheeler proves a particular standout. His McNamara is the most fully realized character: gruff and self-important one minute, vulnerable and chastened the next.

A lot of theatre wants to make you think, but it’s an all-too-rare experience in Vancouver that after the curtain falls, you race home to research more about a play’s subject matter. That night, reading about Vietnam and the arguments made about its echoes in Iraq, it struck me that Devine’s Re:Union lays a claim that wars and plays struggle to achieve: mission accomplished. To Nov. 12 at Pacific Theatre, 8pm. Matinees: Sat, 2pm. $16.50-$29.50 from PacificTheatre.org. —Andrea Warner

The Woodsman

My review of The Woodsman (on now at the Pacific Theatre) is in the Westender.

The Woodsman
By Andrea Warner

Pedophiles and child molesters don’t make sympathetic protagonists, but they do make complex ones. Written by Steven Fechter in 1994, in response to Megan’s Law—which required authorities to notify communities when a known sexual offender lived in their midst—the Canadian debut of The Woodsman tackles a child molester’s attempt at rehabilitation after returning to his hometown following 12 years in prison. While the volatile subject matter is handled with grace and dignity, the actual production boasts moments both compelling and clunky.

Dirk van Stralen is fantastically creepy-yet-human as Walter, a dead-man-walking the tightrope between his desire to change and his desire for 12-year-old girls. Walter wants to re-acclimate to society, and is frustrated that his time served and his therapy sessions haven’t made him “normal.” His choice of apartment across the street from an elementary school seems suspect to his brother-in-law, Carlos, and to the cop, Lucas, who watches his every move, but it also lets him spy on a man he calls Candy who seems to be scoping the schoolyard for little boys. Walter’s relationship with a co-worker, Nikki (Rebecca deBoer, who struggles with some of her line delivery), does little to banish his demons either, despite her belief he’s a “good man.”

The cast commits to the uncomfortable material with gusto and earnest heart. The show’s best moments are its toughest ones, particularly when Walter befriends a little girl in the woods. It’s impossible to know for sure at the play’s end whether Walter will remain part of the 20 percent of rehabilitated sexual offenders. This is the interesting grey area around second chances: Walter’s redemption will be a lifelong battle. Though bravely tackling these thorny issues, the script feels uneven, and certain smaller details detract rather than add (for example, the therapist’s reclamation of his Jewish ancestry feels pointless; it should either take up more space or none at all). The Woodsman packs strong muscle, but is ultimately hampered by its dull blade.