Last night I was privileged to attend the opening of MacKenzieRo’s production of bedbound at the Tarragon Studio Upstairs. And as press, no less (I’ll be blogging about it elsewhere in that context, which I will eventually link to). Which makes me giggle. Because it feels like when you’re little and you wear your mom’s high heels and jewellery and put on her lipstick and pretend to be a grown up. But I digress. I will tell the story of how all that came to be another time. On to bedbound…
Awe-inspiring.
Seriously, I could stop there. But, of course, I won’t. MacKenzieRo is producing the Canadian premiere, so I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume we aren’t all familiar. This is the story, according to their website:
“For the father and daughter who are the sole inhabitants of their suffocating and filthy quarters, language is nothing short of a basic biological function. An account of a life spent flogging three-piece suites and Swedish pine furniture becomes both feverish and blackly comic—a desperately bleak drama offering a beautifully judged glimpse of redemption.”
Father and daughter are played by Richard Greenblatt and Cathy Murphy, respectively. They spend an hour and change never leaving the small bed they share, speaking incessantly. Very little of their talk is dialogue, it’s much more monologue with interjections. And what I found absolutely enthralling under these circumstances was their ability to create worlds outside of their confinement and the very real connection they found with each other and with their audience.
So they’re trapped in what is basically a double bed. From start to finish they literally do not put a foot on the floor. Not once. Don’t mistake me, they’re quite active, sitting, standing, leaning over, wrestling bedsheets, etc. But they do it all without ever leaving a this very small area. And as they’re telling stories, about being on the beach, about being in a furniture warehouse, about making deliveries, about a dinner party, they manage somehow to make you feel as if you’re in that place. As if they’re in that place. The detail, the specificity of it, was incredible. There was not a single moment, not a single description of an item or a place, where you weren’t absolutely convinced that these two individuals had been there, touched it, knew everything about it. They used every inch of that tiny space to its fullest. That is an accomplishment all by itself.
And then there was this incredible relationship between these two characters. It’s a messed up relationship, to be sure, but you really understood that there was something between them. Which makes or breaks a two person play, in my opinion (or any play, really). I recently saw Studio 180’s production of Blackbird at CanStage and, while I enjoyed it and think it’s a great play, I was disappointed watching it. Because I felt like I was watching two actors talking at each other and not two people relating to each other. It was a play about a relationship and there was no relationship. Which was unfortunate. So it was wonderful to see the opposite of that. And to catch the nuances in each moment. Really, they didn’t miss a beat. And the relationship between them changed from beginning to end, they changed from beginning to end. They were just so committed to their choices, which were so well thought out and strong. It sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it. And one of my favourite things to see in theatre happened: the show ended and by curtain call they started to look like totally different people. By the time I saw them backstage they were almost unrecognizable. It was incredible.
What was impressive as an audience member, too, was that from the first string of expletives spewed out by Greenblatt, they just grabbed hold of you and took you along for the ride. There was never a moment where they dropped the ball, no opportunity to disengage. Remember this quote from my favourite RADA prof?
“You have to take the audience with you. Take by the hand and lead them to paradise. Or lead them up the garden path and slit their fucking throats. Just take them with you!”
These two (and their director, Autumn Smith) could not possibly have done a better job of it. Which is all the more incredible because, while including the audience and creating these worlds outside of their actual reality, they still managed to convey a feeling of confinement.
And the most amazing part? They rehearsed this show for 2.5 weeks. Which says to me, these guys know what they’re doing on a whole different level.
Seriously, they were doing so many things all at once without ever making it look like work. It was beautiful to watch. Absolutely awe-inspiring. And they were funny. And they used all my favourite words (none of which are nice). After being in a show like the one I was just in, this was exactly what I needed.
This is the kind of theatre I want to be a part of. These are the kind of people I want to work with—I should add that I had the chance to talk to all of them afterward (and Autumn beforehand) and they were so kind and generous and just great. It really restored my faith in theatre. I’m finding that more and more with some of Toronto’s indie theatre groups. It comforts me, it gives me hope. When I’m a big girl, I want to be like them. Or now. You know, whichever.
And if you don’t go see this show, you’re crazy. Just saying.
bedbound plays until May 17th. 8PM (2:30 Sundays) Tickets are $20, Sundays PWYC. Purchasements can be made here.
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