Donna Feore
played a trick on me. Yes, she did.
She pulled
the rug right out from under me the other night. I was all ready to be
underwhelmed by the conceit of ItÕs a Wonderful Life
portrayed
on stage
as a
1940s radio drama and then she just suckered me in. Perhaps it was
because I
had to sit through a bum-numbing, execrable adaptation of White
Christmas (with
re-worked book by David Ives and Paul Blake) last year at about this
time
presented by the Sony Centre for the Performing Arts in Toronto (and
reviewed
here in Aisle Say). I donÕt
know, but what Feore did with ItÕs a
Wonderful Life
was Š well, it was just wonderful.
Not having read the script beforehand, itÕs hard
to tell
how much of the character development was clearly delineated by stage
directions in Philip GrecianÕs
script (first staged in 2003) -- or how
much was
invented by the very inventive director/choreographer who surrounded
herself
with an equally skilled ensemble of actor/singer/dancers, a number of
whom came
from the Shaw and Stratford Festivals, but it all came together
beautifully.
The first part of the ruse is the one-by-one
entrance of
the 12 radio players as they squeeze their way into the small studio
space of
station WLGB, cleverly designed (along with the period costumes) by
Michael
Gianfrancesco. Sandwiched between a piano at one end and sound
effects
area at
the other, the actors are quick to grab a chair, stake out a portion of
the
sofa and otherwise claim their space before going to air.
Juan Chioran
(as the fictional radio actor
Tyrone Dixon)
enters jauntily smoking a
cigarette and casting an ego wider than a shadow on a sunny afternoon.
He is
followed by the modest studio pianist, Pearl Lowe (played appropriately
enough
by composer/librettist Leslie Arden),
the mincing Vivian Ross (Diana
Cofini),
the bored leading man, Harvey Davis (played
by Mike Shara) and
hey,
wait a
minute here! Just as quick as you can say six characters in search of
an
author, you realize that those charactersÕ names that are listed in the
program
donÕt mean a thing. As soon as the Ņradio dramaÓ kicks off we begin to
realize
that the characters are really the multiple roles that the actors are
now
taking on which, in all, encompasses 63 speaking parts. So the
cleverness starts
with Ņactors playing actorsÓ in this play-within-a-play taken from a
popular film
that we are playing in our minds as we watch the play.
Act 1, as it works out, is just the warm up. By
design, the
actors give a lackluster performance. They do all the bad things that
bad
actors often do. They are bored by the project and so they liven it up
with
petty upstaging, breaking up when
they ought to be serious, hoking up a Charleston number while a couple
of them
quickly step outside to smoke a cigarette as soon as they are off
microphone,
etc. By intermission I felt the joke was starting to wear thin. It was
meant
to.
As we move into the second act of the radio
drama, we enter
the dystopia of Potterville and the mood of the actors change. Yes,
there is
still all the business of quickly switching character voices,
manipulating the
sound effects (ably designed and executed on stage by John Gzowski)
Š
but
there is something sinister beginning to take hold. Maybe itÕs the
reality of an
economic meltdown that had audience members tittering nervously when
Mike Shara
as George Bailey tries to stem a run on his Savings and Loan by
attempting to
explain the materialist conception of history and the predatory nature
of
monetarist fiscal policy to Tom, Joe and Charlie: ŅYouÕre thinking of
this
place all wrong Éthe moneyÕs not here.Ó Perhaps itÕs the gentle
reminders from
Clarence (Patrick McKenna --
who also plays the absent minded Uncle
Billy) that
we must not lose faith in the face of adversity. The actors arenÕt
messing
around anymore Š- this is serious business.
When ItÕs a
Wonderful Life premiered as a film
on December
20, 1946, with Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed and Lionel
Barrymore in
the
leading
roles, it received a number of adverse reviews and was generally
considered
less than a success. Frank CapraÕs
reputation as a director was
diminished as a
result of the filmÕs box office failure. Nonetheless, Jimmy Stewart and
Donna
Reed never lost faith with the story and continued to appear in radio
adaptations for three years following the filmÕs release.
Maybe it was the hangover still hovering from
the recent
U.S. election that had whole communities so euphoric in their
yes-we-can belief
that they too could pull together just like the folks in Bedford Falls
and overcome
hardship and adversity in tough times.
Or maybe it was that artful conjuror, Donna
Feore with her
emotional legerdemain that resurrected an old story and -Š just like
George Bailey -- made it live again.