Six Plays in Four Days: One Viewer's Opinion

I saw six plays in four bleary-eyed days at Stratford Festival of Canada last month and batted a bit better than .500 -- three were good, one was almost good, and two were atrocious.

The pick of the litter was Pierre Corneille's "The Liar" (1644), a rhymed farce of the kind Molière perfected later that same century. Director Matthew Jocelyn had the actors draw straws onstage for their parts and then perform with scripts in hand, a brilliant choice that commented on the falsity of the central character and of the form itself. Everyone broke character constantly to complain about forced rhymes ("gallant" and "want") or the size of their roles, and one man whose part was done burst back onto the stage in his stocking feet, swigging from a champagne bottle and singing "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina." Though hardly revolutionary, it was refreshing and wonderful fun.

"Oliver!" rested on a strong performance by festival leading man Colm Feore, an actor with his own personal corporate sponsor, like a sports figure. Feore as Fagin, Blythe Wilson as Nancy and especially Scott Beaudin as the Artful Dodger did full justice to the superb score, and choreographer-director Donna Feore provided some spectacular dancing. Her husband Colm also anchored "Coriolanus" with suitable blood and thunder, but when Stratford veteran Martha Henry was onstage as his ambitious mother, all eyes were on her. She must make an amazing Gertrude; I'd travel up there just to find out.

"Much Ado About Nothing" is a workmanlike version of the Beatrice-and-Benedict romantic comedy, marred by director Stephen Ouimette's incomprehensible failure to find a funny Dogberry. (A fine actor, he should have played the role himself.) I'd always presumed the malapropism-spouting sheriff would be funny even if played by a corpse, but apparently that's not the case.

"Twelfth Night" was an unmitigated disaster, combining a deeply unfunny performance by Brian Bedford as Malvolio with a truly offensive concept that turned Illyria into late Imperial Mysterious East. Olivia wore a hoop skirt of Anna-and-the-King-of-Siam vintage; Orsino had the long hair of the un-turbaned Sikh; musicians providing the food of love were dressed in Hindu court attire; and Viola/Cesario wore an Islamic tunic over baggy pants.

Worst of all was "Don Juan," a tragedy by Molière -- and really, what more needs to be said? A tedious account of an unpleasant person (Feore once more) getting his predictable comeuppance, the play seemed chosen for a single speech about the value of hypocrisy, and particularly pretense of religious faith, in advancing wickedness. Pointed references to leaders who misbehave in their youth and then adopt a posture of repentance weren't lost on this American, at least.

-- Kelly Kleiman