Assassins: UC Follies production full of hits and misses
A carnivalesque atmosphere fills the theatre as the Proprietor (Adrian Yearwood) steps onstage and shouts to the audience “Do you wanna kill a president?” So begins the UC Follies’ Assassins, a musical that looks at the lives of nine men and women who at some point in history tried—and sometimes succeeded—at killing the President of the United States. These figures include Leon Czolgosz (Andrew Dundass), Giuseppe Zangara (Brandon Hackett), and Samuel Byck (Matt Duncan).
At the order of the Proprietor, a killer carnival game begins as one by one the assassins march onstage looking bewildered and troubled before accepting a gun, aiming, and shooting. From here, they launch into the cheery, upbeat tune “Everybody’s Got the Right,” which claims the right to dream, to be free, or even to kill the president. It is this dark humour that gives Assassins its sinister appeal.
Assassins, featuring music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and story by John Weidman, first opened in 1990 to great controversy. This could only be expected from a musical that features a duet between Squeaky Fromme and John Hinckley Jr., who vow their love to Charles Manson and Jodi Foster respectively. The silliness and amiability of these goofy characters could easily be mistaken for approval. However, Assassins is intended to promote anything but—we’re supposed to look at these characters as people who, like the rest of us, had sought out the American Dream, including fame, fortune, and meaningful lives. Even their oddities and antics feel somewhat familiar to those watching. Unlike most of us, who respond to failure by settling for a clerical job or a hobby maintaining a blog about cats wearing sweaters, the would-be assassins simply took another route.
Where the UC Follies’ production stumbles in its musical aspect—though Sondheim has provided a handful of witty numbers from “Gun Song” to “Another National Anthem,” there were an equal number of long, droning ballads and ensemble chorus numbers that felt more generic than edgy. On top of this, only a few of the actors were confident and capable as singers. Most of them barely hit their high notes and struggled through the fast-paced lyrics. As the play is titled Assassins: The Musical, this weakness becomes a little distracting.
Though the cast’s musical stylings weren’t always on target, their acting abilities certainly were, and the cast worked well together as a team. Notable performances included Michael David Bolstein’s sly and sinister John Wilkes Booth, who appeared just in time to persuade troubled miscreants that assassinating the President could fix problems as commonplace as a stomach ache. Ian Ronningen’s Charles Guiteau and Ann Pornel’s Sara Jane Moore also provided entertaining, memorable performances that were rich in humour. The only actor a bit off his mark was Joey Uunold, who played his Baladeer bigger than everyone else’s characters and thus felt out of sync with the rest of the production.
On a final note—if you, like me, are familiar with only a quarter of America’s presidential assassins—quickly brushing up on your history before seeing this production would do you well. While their biographies aren’t necessary reading in order to follow the plot, a quick skim through Wikipedia can certainly enhance the humour of the musical and your appreciation for each character.—Ariel Lewis
VCDs’ The Laramie Project could easily break your heart
The set is minimalistic and brightly lit as the cast members take their places in a line of chairs silhouetted by a simple black backdrop. The theatre is full, and the audience is eerily hushed by the incoherent babble of the performers, who speak urgently overtop of one another. The voices of the actors twist together, as they solemnly stare forward, taking no notice of each other or the audience.
The Victoria College Drama Society’s production of The Laramie Project is all about voices. The play is based around the murder of 21-year-old University of Wyoming student Matthew Shepard, who was beaten and killed in 1998 in a hate-crime that targeted him largely for his homosexuality. Instead of focusing on the narrative of the event, The Laramie Project chronicles the reactions of those who were involved and affected by the crime, weaving countless testimonies of townsfolk to create a dialogue and coherent narrative that sheds light on the nature of hatred, ignorance, and hope.
The actors shift from their linear perches in a well-choreographed transition that characterizes the show as a whole. With the set in a simple, black box format, the cast’s every movement becomes crucially important, and the well-timed choreography allow for an actor to seamlessly switch characters with nothing more than a quick jaunt across the small stage. The story is told in a meta-narrative, with cast members portraying the original interviewers of the townsfolk before embodying the interviewees themselves—a challenging project that requires the small troupe of actors to portray more than 60 roles with no costume or set changes.
Several cast members shone in the endeavour. Sarah White, who played the 39-year-old police officer who arrived first on the scene of Matthew’s beating, was convincing, natural, and heart-wrenching. More remarkable, only a moment before she delivered the steady, but emotionally charged monologue, she spoke from the perspective of an interviewer from two steps away. Her transition from interviewer to character was seamless. With a subtle hair change, White embodied her new character, suddenly acquiring new speech patterns and facial expressions.
Almost every cast member had a similar chameleon moment, with standout performances from Alex Wells, who was exemplary as the town’s grizzled limousine driver, and Luke McElcheran, whose rendition of the town reverend was fearsome. McElcheran’s later speech as the doctor who attended to both Sheppard and his perpetrator closed the first act with a gut-wrenching but understated description of the entire town’s dilemma.
The Laramie Project is emotionally laborious to watch. The tragic story is made all the harder to digest because the actors portray each character so compellingly that the simple tragedy of the story is made multi-faceted and larger in scope. Each individual considered has a story of pain caused by the crime. Given that the play also runs three acts—and three hours—the show would surely fall flat without the incorrigible energy exhibited by the cast. Instead, the charisma and chemistry between actors presents a compelling vision of small-town Wyoming and despite the black backdrops and wardrobes, the play effectively manufactures a vision of the dusty landscape, nothingness, and mountains.
The show’s surging emotion is evident in all three acts and hardly ever lets up. The cast works well as an ensemble, creating a beautiful and haunting vigil for Matthew Sheppard, complete with candles and an eerie tune of sorrow. The show culminates in the intense trials of Matthew Sheppard’s murderers, which kept an exhausted audience on the edge of their seats, even after two-and-a-half hours.
At the conclusion of the third hour of The Laramie Project, your heart is breaking, you’re trying to hide your tears from your seatmates as the light comes on, and the chorus of voices and tragedy continues to haunt you as you exit the theater. The actors have done their job, bringing to life a simple show, armed with nothing but charisma and dialogue to enliven three-hours of simple talking.—Emily Kellogg
