There have been many fine plays written by many fine writers in the United States during the last century. Many of these plays are justly considered classics of the English-speaking world theatre.
Among all the other products of this rich theatrical age, Thornton Wilder's Our Town holds a very special place. Although written consistently in the simplest and most uninvolving of theatrical styles, it still holds the stage because the characters and situations are straightforward, clear, and most of all, honest and believable. Almost anyone can go to a performance of Our Town and see aspects of themselves, their families, and their friends in the people appearing on the stage.
The other especially appealing feature of Our Town is that it tells about the core aspects of life to which we can all relate: birth and death, love and marriage, everyday chores and special occasions.
It's no wonder, then, that Our Town continues to be performed in schools, colleges, community and professional theatres. It's the sort of play that will always be sui generis because if anyone else tried to write a similar play in a similar style, they would end up writing Our Town, Mark II. The play also stubbornly resists classification by theatrical genre. It is, simply and beautifully, itself.
Wilder designedly planned Our Town as a play which would consistently and thoroughly break down the imaginary fourth wall between actors and audience. He required a bare stage, minimal furniture, and called for most actions to be mimed without props. His main character is the Stage Manager, who speaks for the most part directly to the audience, narrating the story and filling in for them the gaps which the onstage action doesn't show. Wilder also asked for the play to be performed "without sentimentality or ponderousness--simply, dryly, and sincerely."
The Shaw Festival's production respects these requirements for the most part. When it goes beyond them, it does so in a way that yet respects the play and the author's intention.
A simple white cyclorama backdrop allows for subtle shades of light to define different times of day and night. A large circular moon is lowered in front of the cyclorama for two different segments of the play, distinguished by different lighting effects. Plain furniture, chairs and tables, are moved around and sometimes on and off by the company. Costumes are period appropriate but simple.
It's difficult to single out certain performers in this show because it is so pre-eminently an ensemble piece. Few characters, other than the Stage Manager, have any lengthy scenes. Indeed, the Stage Manager is as apt to interrupt a promising scene, thank the performers, and then fast forward our attention to another key moment.
But there are some truly delightful performances here none the less. One of the best is Sharry Flett as the garrulous, gossipy Mrs. Soames. In the wedding scene at the end of Act II, her over-the-chair-back interjections are done with exactly the over-the-top tone that I can associate with an elderly gossip. It may not be strictly according to the playwright's request, but it's a funny and touching cameo all the same.
The four parents are all good, but it is the two mothers who stick in my mind -- partly by the script pointing your attention towards them, and partly by the subtle but still multi-faceted performances of Catherine McGregor as Mrs. Gibbs and Jenny L. Wright as Mrs. Webb. Wright was magnificently natural in her slow-motion preparation of breakfast in the return to life scene, while McGregor captured a perfect balance between indifference to the living world and maternal concern for the newcomer in the graveyard.
These two also played a fine partnership in the scene where they are stringing beans. Not the least part of the effect here was the actors' careful use of every inch of space on the narrow stage of the Royal George Theatre to clearly indicate the locations of the two houses and their respective gardens.
At the heart of the play stand their two elder children, George Gibbs (Charlie Gallant) and Emily Webb (Kate Besworth). This casting caught my attention because I had seen these two playing two leading child roles last season as well, in Peter and the Starcatcher. In that show, they (and their fellow actors) didn't really convince me that I was seeing children. Well, this time out, the two both assumed an entirely believable air as school children, and then kept the transitions completely clear as they grew into teenagers and then adults.
The emotional heart of the piece comes in the third act, with the funeral of Emily after she dies in childbirth with her second child. One of the most arresting images in this entire production is the rows of chairs representing graves, with the actors seated in them -- facing straight ahead and never turning or moving. This much, of course, anyone who has seen the play knows will happen. The extra inspiration here was the cold white-grey moonlight (it is winter) and the gentle dusting of white on the lower ends of the actors' clothing.
Then comes the scene where Emily chooses to go back and witness a day in her life again, despite warnings from the others not to do it. In another magnificent and subtle touch, the director and designer have the table brought on once more in the Webb house -- but now there are real pots, dishes, utensils. Although the action continues as if in mime, the presence of these extra articles (actually not wanted by the playwright) underlines gently but clearly the fact the Emily is seeing it all for the first time -- there was so much she didn't see the first time, when she lived it.
Emily's farewell speech seemed a little unnatural to me -- but I suppose it's hard to make it really natural! Then she returns to her chair (grave), George comes back up to the graveyard by night, and in a moment of terribly real heartbreak flings himself on the ground of her grave. Gallant's performance in this moment drew sobbing from a few people in the audience.
All of which brings me back to the Stage Manager, the single biggest and most important role in the piece. This actor has more lines than all the others combined, and has to do so many different linking functions during the show -- as well as playing small roles such as the minister and the soda fountain owner.
Remember what the playwright requested: "simply, dryly, and sincerely." With a gentle, coaxing, almost folksy lilt in his voice, Benedict Campbell did exactly that -- never overdone, dramatic, or overly emotional but always engrossing in his storytelling. It was as near to perfect a realization of the role as I can imagine.
This performance took me further into this play than any other production I've ever seen. At the end, I came away with a new appreciation for the key message that lies in the very last scene. It comes in Emily's question: "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?" The answer, given by the Stage Manager, is: "No. The saints and poets, maybe -- they do some."
Thanks to director Molly Smith and her team of designers, the Shaw Festival has mounted a production of Our Town which more than achieves the most difficult feat of all -- the feat of performing this familiar and deeply-treasured play well. A remarkable evening of theatre.
A simple white cyclorama backdrop allows for subtle shades of light to define different times of day and night. A large circular moon is lowered in front of the cyclorama for two different segments of the play, distinguished by different lighting effects. Plain furniture, chairs and tables, are moved around and sometimes on and off by the company. Costumes are period appropriate but simple.
It's difficult to single out certain performers in this show because it is so pre-eminently an ensemble piece. Few characters, other than the Stage Manager, have any lengthy scenes. Indeed, the Stage Manager is as apt to interrupt a promising scene, thank the performers, and then fast forward our attention to another key moment.
But there are some truly delightful performances here none the less. One of the best is Sharry Flett as the garrulous, gossipy Mrs. Soames. In the wedding scene at the end of Act II, her over-the-chair-back interjections are done with exactly the over-the-top tone that I can associate with an elderly gossip. It may not be strictly according to the playwright's request, but it's a funny and touching cameo all the same.
The four parents are all good, but it is the two mothers who stick in my mind -- partly by the script pointing your attention towards them, and partly by the subtle but still multi-faceted performances of Catherine McGregor as Mrs. Gibbs and Jenny L. Wright as Mrs. Webb. Wright was magnificently natural in her slow-motion preparation of breakfast in the return to life scene, while McGregor captured a perfect balance between indifference to the living world and maternal concern for the newcomer in the graveyard.
These two also played a fine partnership in the scene where they are stringing beans. Not the least part of the effect here was the actors' careful use of every inch of space on the narrow stage of the Royal George Theatre to clearly indicate the locations of the two houses and their respective gardens.
At the heart of the play stand their two elder children, George Gibbs (Charlie Gallant) and Emily Webb (Kate Besworth). This casting caught my attention because I had seen these two playing two leading child roles last season as well, in Peter and the Starcatcher. In that show, they (and their fellow actors) didn't really convince me that I was seeing children. Well, this time out, the two both assumed an entirely believable air as school children, and then kept the transitions completely clear as they grew into teenagers and then adults.
The emotional heart of the piece comes in the third act, with the funeral of Emily after she dies in childbirth with her second child. One of the most arresting images in this entire production is the rows of chairs representing graves, with the actors seated in them -- facing straight ahead and never turning or moving. This much, of course, anyone who has seen the play knows will happen. The extra inspiration here was the cold white-grey moonlight (it is winter) and the gentle dusting of white on the lower ends of the actors' clothing.
Then comes the scene where Emily chooses to go back and witness a day in her life again, despite warnings from the others not to do it. In another magnificent and subtle touch, the director and designer have the table brought on once more in the Webb house -- but now there are real pots, dishes, utensils. Although the action continues as if in mime, the presence of these extra articles (actually not wanted by the playwright) underlines gently but clearly the fact the Emily is seeing it all for the first time -- there was so much she didn't see the first time, when she lived it.
Emily's farewell speech seemed a little unnatural to me -- but I suppose it's hard to make it really natural! Then she returns to her chair (grave), George comes back up to the graveyard by night, and in a moment of terribly real heartbreak flings himself on the ground of her grave. Gallant's performance in this moment drew sobbing from a few people in the audience.
All of which brings me back to the Stage Manager, the single biggest and most important role in the piece. This actor has more lines than all the others combined, and has to do so many different linking functions during the show -- as well as playing small roles such as the minister and the soda fountain owner.
Remember what the playwright requested: "simply, dryly, and sincerely." With a gentle, coaxing, almost folksy lilt in his voice, Benedict Campbell did exactly that -- never overdone, dramatic, or overly emotional but always engrossing in his storytelling. It was as near to perfect a realization of the role as I can imagine.
This performance took me further into this play than any other production I've ever seen. At the end, I came away with a new appreciation for the key message that lies in the very last scene. It comes in Emily's question: "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?" The answer, given by the Stage Manager, is: "No. The saints and poets, maybe -- they do some."
Thanks to director Molly Smith and her team of designers, the Shaw Festival has mounted a production of Our Town which more than achieves the most difficult feat of all -- the feat of performing this familiar and deeply-treasured play well. A remarkable evening of theatre.
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