House
By Daniel MacIvor. Directed by Daniel Brooks. Until
Apr. 1 at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, 12 Alexander
St.
To borrow a phrase from Stephen Sondheim, I'm sorry-grateful.
Last night, House opened at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre. It's the
final production in the glorious 20-year history of da da kamera, the
partnership between Daniel MacIvor and Sherrie Johnson that has been
responsible for so many fine works of theatre that to merely enumerate
them would take up the rest of the space available to me.
Let's just say that without them, our theatre would have been a considerably
poorer place and House is a good indication why. First produced in 1991,
it's neither as complex nor as dazzling as some of the later MacIvor
solo pieces, but it shows that from the very start, he knew what he
was doing when it came to presenting us individuals who definitely dwell
on the dark side of the moon.
This time around, he's called Victor and he's quite a piece of work.
With his Nova Scotia accent, tacky sports jacket and self-important
swagger, he's any one of an million guys you'd cross the street to avoid.
But Victor knows that and he'd follow you, because he's got stories
to tell, mainly about his tedious job, his loveless marriage and his
feeble attempts at self-improvement and you'll see a soul in agony behind
a frozen smile, with laugh that contains more than just a hint of the
death rattle.
Daniel Brooks, MacIvor's frequent collaborator, has once again helped
him shape both the piece and the performance with a sure, subtle hand.
Kimberly Purtell's lighting is design is not as flashy as some of those
she did for later MacIvor shows, but it works wondrously well.
Once again, you have to marvel at the sheer force of presence MacIvor
brings onto the stage, even more impressive when you realize he's playing
such a loser. He allows himself the odd sly comic bit of updating ("I'm
glad you didn't stay home to watch a television program about a cranky
doctor.") but most of the experience is pretty much as it was 17
years ago - which is just fine.
We're a lot richer for the shows that da da kamera has given us over
the years, but we're also poorer for the fact that MacIvor will never
perform them again.
"In my end is my beginning," wrote T.S. Eliot in Four Quartets.
Let's hope the same is true for MacIvor and the finish of one glorious
chapter in his career will be followed immediately by the start of an
even better one.
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