Snow White was originally written and published by the Brothers Grimm in 1811 and rendered famous worldwide by Walt Disney in 1937. The Brothers Grimm’s original version tells the story of two princesses, one of whom becomes queen after the passing of her parents. Despite her power, the queen is cold, bitter, and jealous of her sister’s beauty and cheerfulness. Frustrated by her magic mirror’s constant reiterations of her sister’s incomparable beauty, she asks her hunter to kill Snow White and to bring back her heart in a box. Distraught by this order, the hunter tells Snow White to flee and brings the heart of a deer back to his master. Meanwhile, Snow White finds refuge in the forest, in the house of seven friendly dwarves who work in a mine. After learning of her sister’s escape, the Queen concocts two potions. In one, she dips an apple with which to kill her sister; the other, she drinks to take the appearance of an old maid. After finding Snow White and fooling her with her old maid disguise, the Queen forces her to take a bite of the poisonous apple. Thankfully, Snow White’s love interest Prince Philip comes to her rescue before it’s too late.

Unlike the original, Volpe’s Snow White is Deaf and communicates with ASL. Five other characters in the play communicate this way. To render Deaf Snow White as enjoyable as possible for both Deaf and hearing audiences, Volpe decided to have his actors transmit information through ASL and spoken English throughout the play. Indeed, stage actors who used ASL were dubbed by voice actors, and stage actors who spoke had their words interpreted by ASL actors. While voice actors were sitting in the audience, ASL actors were onstage. Volpe developed the onstage presence of the ASL actors in several creative ways. Always positioned atop three black pillars, they blended into the background when unsolicited thanks to attire and makeup that transformed them into the likes of trees, statues, and paintings.

Founded in fall 2012, the McGill club Seeing Voices Montréal is Montreal’s first ASL theatre, and the only Deaf theatre company in the country. “Our vision is to close the gap between the hearing and deaf world, with the use of theatre as a common medium,” explained Seeing Voices Montréal’s press release for Deaf Snow White. “To achieve this, we adapt and perform plays of well-known children’s stories which can be understood by both audiences.” Seeing Voices Montréal also aspires to eventually teaching the Langue des Signes Québécoise. In addition to educating and raising awareness, Seeing Voices Montréal wants to make ASL theatre as enjoyable as spoken theatre. After all, theatre is certainly an art form that too often privileges the use of powerful vocal chords as opposed to quality acting.

In this vein, Deaf Snow White teaches its audience a little bit of ASL. Snow White teaches the seven dwarves sign language upon their initial encounter, drawing a parallel between real life interactions between Deaf and hearing people. The interactions between the Deaf and hearing cast were at times choppy, something which might be due to the mixed languages. “People don’t realize that deaf actors have to follow the script differently than hearing actors,” Aselin Weng, a McGill Physical Therapy student and co-founder of Seeing Voices Montréal, told the McGill Reporter. Deaf actors use a variety of cues to follow the action, including body language and lip-reading.

The sold-out show’s success relied on the teamwork at play between Deaf and hearing actors. Deaf actress Sera Kessab, in the role of the dwarf Silly, admitted that rehearsals were tough at first, but thoroughly enjoyable as actors got to know each other better. Regardless of the rehearsal process that took place prior to opening night, the audience seemed to enjoy itself from beginning to end, and responded well to the balance between ASL and spoken English. One of the best moments of the evening was the end of the play when everyone was invited to demonstrate their appreciation of the play in whichever way they felt most comfortable, either by clapping or waving their hands (the ASL equivalent of clapping).

The set choices were almost as interesting as the use of sign language. Digital designer Gordon Hart provided numerous elaborate backdrops for each scene. Although props were used throughout the play, actors interacted with them sparingly, perhaps in an attempt to keep the acting minimalistic and the focus on the frequently-changing backdrops. Lights, sounds, and vibrations were also used sparsely for dramatic effect, summoned at strategic moments.

Kessab certainly stood out among the cast thanks to her zeal, expressiveness, and overall perfectly cued jokes. Lauren Murphy as the Queen, and Andreia Malisia as the Queen in disguise, also offered noteworthy performances. Murphy’s austerity was dark and compelling, and Malisia’s shrill evil Queen laughter was pitch-perfect, her demeanour equally chilling.

Deaf Snow White provides a unique opportunity to re-experience a favourite childhood tale in ASL and spoken English simultaneously. On top of being thoroughly enjoyable in itself, Deaf Snow White’s important goal to raise awareness about the Deaf community, and to encourage hearing individuals to learn ASL, is delivered in a moving and entertaining way.

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The original tale, best known to all from Walt Disney’s animated movie, tells the story of a child’s never-ending youth on the imaginary island of Neverland. As the leader of the Lost Boys, children who fell out of their prams and were never reclaimed by their parents, Peter Pan tells them countless tales and fables which they believe to be true. While mainly interacting with the fantastic creatures of Neverland, Peter Pan occasionally returns to the real world. After having lost his shadow at the Darling household, he meets Wendy (Charlotte Doucette) and her brothers, who agree to follow Peter Pan to his world. Wendy will eventually become a sort of surrogate mother to the Lost Boys.

In recent years, the story of Peter Pan has been heavily criticized for its stereotypical representations of Indigenous peoples as conceived of by European colonialists in the 18th and 19th centuries. As Kelly Richmond, the play’s director, explained, the insertion of offensive and erroneous conceptions of Indigenous cultures in the original narrative was certainly due to their “commercial appeal for young boys.”

In an attempt to sidestep the racism embedded within Barrie’s original, Richmond chose not to depict Indigenous peoples and to instead present Tiger Lily (Lucy Gripper) as a tough and shadowy girl, constantly surrounded by her threatening female posse. While Players’ attempt to minimize the play’s racist potential is laudable, their decision to use a gothic posse instead is questionable. Richmond’s version differed from the original due to its “gothic spin,” mostly consisting of Tiger Lily’s vixen posse, as well as in the physical absence of fan-favourite characters Tinker Bell and the Crocodile, who were nonetheless still present thanks to ringing and tick-tocking sound effects. Neverland, as an imaginary land home to fairies, pirates, the Lost Boys, and more, made the insertion of Tiger Lily as an intriguing and glamorous figure fit the narrative perfectly, yet failed to provide as much depth as Barrie’s problematic Indigenous characters.

Richmond’s version differed from the original due to its “gothic spin,” mostly consisting of Tiger Lily’s vixen posse, as well as in the physical absence of fan-favourite characters Tinker Bell and the Crocodile, who were nonetheless still present thanks to ringing and tick-tocking sound effects.

The scenery, set on several levels, was elaborate and well-crafted. The lighting, mainly consisting of twinkling lights on strands hung all over the walls of the theatre, offered rich golden and yellow tones that created an intimate ambiance, reminiscent of the ones children love to create to tell each other stories. Yet there was not much evidence of the spectacular strobe lighting that the play’s program promised. The costumes and the makeup of the actors themselves, which were subtle yet intricate, were most impressive. The decision to get Peter Pan, Captain Hook, and Tiger Lily to wear azure, emerald, and ruby contact lenses was particularly pleasing, rendering each character’s gaze eerily piercing and all the more compelling.

Rebecca Pearl’s impressive physical energy made for an impeccable rendition of Peter Pan as a hyperactive and headstrong little boy. Pearl, with her petite frame, seemed like the perfect human incarnation of the Disney Peter Pan most of us know. Actor Maka Ngwenya’s versatility and vivaciousness was also a high point of the play, offering viewers excellent renditions of an overdramatic Mrs. Darling and a sassy Captain Hook. Ngwenya was a very over-the-top Captain Hook, with a huge cigar and an oversized hook, a touch of comic effect that made the character that much stronger. While the first act went by very smoothly, the second act featured many exhaustive battle scenes. Although they were impressively choreographed, and made to come to life vividly by the whole cast of 20 actors, the extended scenes of youthful fighting that were entertaining to us as children are not as appealing to a grown up audience.
In sum, the success of Players’ Peter Pan lies in the quality of its acting and the richness of its decor. Yet for many, the main lure of attending this production is the fact that it will certainly make you reminisce about your childhood days, the meaning of growing up, and whether your adult self has met the expectations of the child that you once were.

Peter Pan runs from February 26 to March 1 at 8 p.m. at Players’ Theatre (3480 McTavish). Tickets are $6 for students.

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Bain St. Michel is an emptied swimming pool turned into an in situ space of creation that occasionally serves as an improvised theatre. The building is a little eerie and seems to be perpetually threatening guests to break apart at any time. Its narrow width forces spectators to sit tightly next to one another, making for a slighty claustrophobic feel. While this unconventional setting heightened the visible apprehension in the room, it certainly created an interesting and unique viewing experience.

The two-act play focuses on Laura, a young Canadian adult whose life is burdened with questions of self-consciousness, disrespectful sexual partners, and poor life decisions. A nameless girl from Bombay’s red light district recounts her lifelong battle against sexual abuse and her longing for freedom. A striking element from the script stemmed from this character’s anonymity. While names are usually seen as central to shaping our identity in our own lives, they are always highly symbolic in fiction. The Bombay-born character stands out as the centerpiece of the play, with Laura acting as a direct foil. This makes the decision not to name her
slightly baffling, as it makes her more difficult to relate to.

The two women, who we are introduced to after they have died, meet in a purgatory where they are told that only one of them will have the opportunity to return to the world of the living. After recounting their life stories and traumatic experiences to one another, both women initially agree that their lives are not worth returning to.

Deepali Lindblom, portraying the Bombay-born girl, truly brought the play to life with her excellent acting and dancing skills. Indeed, the Montreal-based actress and dancer, who founded Deepali Productions in 2010 and is renowned for her hit show Poutine Masala, graced the audience with a visually pleasing and inventive choreography representing the blissful feeling of freedom and happiness – one of the show’s high points. Kristina Sandev, in the role of Laura, a character many spectators probably have less trouble identifying with, seemed to take pleasure in performing her role with a sardonic edge.

Wake, Butterfly, written by the young and emerging playwright Vishesh Abeyratne, struck an excellent balance between comedy and drama, which must have been a challenge due to the complex and sensitive nature of the play. Additionally, the dialogue between both women from completely different backgrounds juxtaposed their problems in a subtle yet revealing manner. This technique permitted the author to articulate his views in favour of feminism, open-mindedness, acceptance, and obstructed spectators from judging any one character.

The set, stripped of any unnecessary artifice, was merely composed of an immaculate white sheet used for shadow play in the middle of two additional panels on which diverse lighting effects were projected. A low pedestal on the right hand side of the stage served as a safe space of confession. Both women took turns recounting their lives, while standing atop this pedestal, inciting spectators to empathize with them equally and to view their experiences of trauma as equally worthy of attention.

The playwright did his best to depict the difficulty of navigating the gap between these two sets of problems in an egalitarian fashion. Still, it was still too easy for audiences to feel the urge to pity Laura for her inability to see that her problems were mainly self-inflicted, while the nameless Bombay-born girl was affected by her environment. There’s also the issue of whether it’s in any way productive to attempt to compare the experiences of these two characters, since it invites the audience to see a false equivalency. While the juxtaposition of these two women’s lives offered audiences perspective on the experience of being a woman in the 21st century, Laura’s character would have benefited from seeming less comedic and naïve. The play as a whole could also have benefited from some discussion of race and oppression. Why, for instance, in the cosmology of the play, is it considered acceptable to lay the problems of two people next to each other and judge which one is more worthy of life? During the discussion following the play, the audience learned that the play had taken four years to write. While Lindblom’s character was rapidly confected, Sandev’s character was more laborious to develop, which was clear from the beginning of the play.

The effectiveness of this play on the lives of two women from different backgrounds with shared traumatic experiences does not lie in its minimalist set design, dim lighting, or occasional sound effects, but in the quality of its script and the subtlety of its performers’ acting skills. Wake, Butterfly is essentially about seeing the beauty of life when all seems to be going wrong, and will certainly force audiences to find a way to appreciate their own lives.

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McGill Daily (MD): Tell us about your job as a graphic designer. What type of art do you make?

Isaiah King (IK): I run my own studio, so my day-to-day involves a lot of different moving parts. I develop design and communication solutions, I design, I art direct other creatives I’ve brought on for projects (designers, animators, writers, web developers, illustrators, et cetera), I meet with clients, I make coffee, I do bookkeeping, I illustrate, I animate, I make more coffee.

A design job will play out roughly like this: I’ll meet with a client to discuss the job. We talk about the problems that need to be solved, ideas that need to be communicated, desires, wants, hates, hopes, and dreams. If I need to bring in some other great talented creative colleagues I give them a call. Once all the boring paperwork and money discussions are over the job commences. Brainstorming, angst, procrastination, labour pains, more angst all give way to the birth of a handful of viable design solutions. These are presented to the client. Then we’re in production. From here we roll out our brilliant concept across the entire project. We design and layout, we animate, we develop, we work back-and-forth with the client through a process of refinement that takes us to completion.

Besides my client work I’m constantly working on my own projects. Woodcut printmaking is one of my favourite mediums right now, but I also draw and try to experiment with new animation techniques. These projects evolve very differently from my business jobs, most notably because they do not need to address a specific communication challenge. My personal projects only need to satisfy my critique and my expression.

MD: When at work, where do you draw most of your inspiration from?

IK: My inspiration comes from a broad range of things, some passive, others proactive […] Some of my inspiration comes from outside influences that I consciously seek out. Some of my inspiration comes from seemingly accidental discoveries. A mistake or a new mark or style I stumble into that can lead to some inspiring exploration. [My inspirations include] Alexander Rodchenko, James Victore, Chaz Maviyane-Davies (for graphic activism), Edvard Munch, Banksy, The Vienna Secession (Klimt, Moser, et cetera), and 1960s to 1970s American and Cuban amateur (and some professional) political poster art.

My move into the graphic design realm is owed in part to meeting Chaz Maviyane-Davies. Although I had already discovered and loved activist poster art from Cuba and the U.S.. I had not fully realized design’s role in contemporary public discourse. Chaz has defined his career as a graphic dissident from his roots in Zimbabwe to his professorship at MassArt.

James Victore best articulates for me what graphic design can be at its best. [He says] “I have always tried to make work that has an opinion. My opinion.” He challenges the common paradigm of a designer as a mere service provider, ready and willing to “pretty up” any message handed down by a client. The philosophy of bringing myself, my art, my opinions, and my voice into my design work is very important to me.

I am always striving to marry my personal art and expression with design and public dialogue. Banksy is an artist I see doing this perfectly. His art is by nature public, its expression is personal, and it communicates clearly while creating dialogue (which, in my opinion, also makes it graphic design).

MD: Do you believe that it is important to have an education in art to be successful within the art world?

IK: This is a very tough question and I’m not sure I have a specific answer for it. I will say this – one definitely doesn’t need a formal art education to be a talented, skilled, and relevant artist.
Personally, going back to art school changed my life. It set me on the path that I’m on today. Going to art school was so much more than the sum of its parts. It was more than the curriculum, it was the fellow students, it was the non-studio classes (literature, history, politics, writing, et cetera), it was a handful of exceptional professors, it was the sheer act of taking a huge step forward to enrich myself that made my art education worthwhile.

Art education was important for my ‘success’ (if you can call it that), but I still couldn’t make a universal statement on its importance in success within the art world. We’d need to have a broader discussion on which ‘art world’ we’re talking about and what different kinds of successes look like.

MD: In light of the current economic crisis and political challenges that the United States has been facing, what role do you see the artist playing in contemporary Western society? Do you agree with the growing belief that art is an expressive tool with a powerful political potential?

IK: I agree that art has always been a powerful tool with the potential to work with, fight against, challenge, cast a light upon issues that are political, social, personal, and community related.
How art relates and makes itself relevant to these issues will constantly change. The role of the artist will constantly change. I’ve always rejected the simplistic view that “art holds a mirror up to society.” Though that is one role it can play I think it would be more accurate to say art is society, art is culture. Therefore I think that the artist’s role in contemporary society is, and will be, an interwoven role rather than just a responsive role.

The role of art has gone far beyond just the individual artist. The tools that come from creative training are proving indispensable in our current economy and social environment. Rather than pointing to the relevance of one or more art forms — painting, dance, et cetera — I think we are now understanding the value of creative thinking in all fields. I’d like to reference Sir Ken Robinson here, because he’s much smarter and more articulate than I am. He talks about our current education model being based on the same model developed in response to the industrial revolution. The digital revolution (among other changes) is moving us into uncharted territories at breakneck speed. Our traditional model of education cannot prepare us for jobs in the future that don’t even exist yet. So it’s not that everyone should be a woodcut printmaker and a dancer in the future, it’s that the thinking and training to be those things allows one to tackle problem solving and innovation with a larger arsenal. I believe this is how art is most powerfully (and surreptitiously) relevant in our day-to-day lives.

– Compiled by Louis Denizet

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

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The comedy in question centres around Prospero, the rightful Duke of Milan, as he disbands a group of Neapolitan shipwrecked survivors, including his usurping brother Antonio, in an attempt to play tricks on them. As the story unfolds, Prospero’s loyal spirit Ariel and three mischievous fairies help him manipulate the survivors, who become players in his wicked game of life and death. Fortunately for some, love is found in these unexpected circumstances. Unfortunately for others, Prospero has a few tricks up his sleeve to punish those who wronged him.

Actors […] regularly break the fourth wall and interact with audience members.

While Shakespeare’s humour can be difficult to grasp, the cast of The Tempest deserves praise for the emphasis that they placed on unflowery elocution, which rendered the Bard’s complex text accessible and intelligible. All 18 actors also honoured the reputation of The Tempest as Shakespeare’s most physical play by being as energetic as possible, therefore keeping audience members on the edge of their seats at all times. One way in which this was achieved was through director Juliet Paperny’s ingenious idea to ask actors to regularly break the fourth wall and interact with audience members. Seldom did Caliban, Prospero’s enslaved island monster, miss an opportunity to lock eyes with viewers, which added an appreciated touch of excitement to the production.

The décor, which consisted of artificial sand and water spray-painted onto the ground itself, as well as foliage, trees, nets, boulders, and more, was aesthetically pleasing due to its restrained colour palette which ranged from azure blues to golden yellows. Costumes reflected a historically accurate interpretation of what Italian shipwrecked survivors from the 17th century would have been likely to wear. In terms of makeup and body paint, intricate sinewy designs, as seen on the fairies’ faces, added to the visual pleasure of the play, while tribal patterns and chaotically applied body paint, as seen on Caliban’s body, helped audience members understand characters’ identities.

Yves Abanda’s interpretation of Caliban’s role was one of the high points of the night. His relentless twitching, trembling, grimacing, yelping, jumping, and cascading, which lasted for more than two hours, must have demanded a rigorous physical training and a considerable amount of willpower. The boisterous and expressive Anurag Chaoudhury and Nick LePage, as, respectively, Stephano and Trinculo, were also highly entertaining. The trio, composed of Caliban, the Neapolitan King’s perpetually drunken steward Trinculo, and the jester Stephano, had great stage presence, energy, and complicity. The tricks they played on one another added a welcome slapstick-comedy aspect to the show, complementing the otherwise nuanced humour of the play.

Productions of Shakespeare’s plays are not rare in University-level theatre troupes, and it is therefore prudent to wisely choose which performance to put on before heading brashly into executing what might be a tedious three-hour long play. Paperny’s interpretation of The Tempest, however, is far from monotonous. Au contraire, her fresh new perspective on Shakespeare’s last masterpiece cannot fail to transport audiences to a foreign spatiotemporal zone in which humour, love, and magic reign.

The Tempest will run from November 20 to 23 at 8 p.m. at Players’ Theatre (3480 McTavish, 3rd Floor). Visit ssmu.mcgill.ca/players for more information.

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The play, which is loosely based on the life of its author, revolves around Jon, an aspiring composer who moves to Manhattan with his girlfriend in the hopes of writing the next great American musical. Unfortunately for Jon, life does not unravel as planned. As he is about to turn 30, the pressures in Jon’s life begin to weigh down on him. In particularly stressful moments, Jon becomes increasingly aware of the irritating-but-strangely-intriguing ticking sound in his head, which often ends with a sudden explosion.

The three-actor piece, presented as an enthralling journey into the life of aspiring artists in the 1990s, is brilliantly executed by Brendan Macdonald, in the main role of Jon. His compelling stage presence, conveyed through mobility and enthusiasm, transfers his onstage energy to the audience. The charming Teodora Mechetiuc, in the role of Jon’s girlfriend Susan, also brought her goods to the table by delivering exceptional vocal performances. Mechetiuc seems to live for the stage, and her versatility is ideally suited to this kaleidoscopic musical. The third and final actor, Nathaniel Hanula-James, in the role of Jon’s best friend Mike, complemented Jon’s story well, offering a contrast to the protagonist’s life, and certainly added to the show’s appeal by regularly flashing his ten thousand dollar smile.

Highlights from the show included Mechetiuc’s impeccable rendition of “Come To Your Senses,” a heartfelt ballad about breaking up, looking at life from a fresh perspective, and moving on. The trio also performed outstandingly well during “Johnny Can’t Decide,” about Jon’s unwillingness to change his ‘starving artist’ lifestyle, and “Louder Than Words,” the play’s final song.

The director of the play, Jon Corkal, revealed that he chose to direct this play due to his belief that he and Larson have a lot more in common than a first name. He also mentioned his desire to partake in McGill’s musical theatre legacy. Having previously acted in Sweeney Todd and West Side Story, both staged at McGill’s Moyse Hall, it was only natural for him to move on to directing a musical, an evidently successful challenge.

Musicals are a rare choice for McGill’s student-run theatre groups, yet it is in small venues that they shine the most. Despite the bare set and lack of varied costumes, TNC’s intimacy allows for a connection between the performers and the audience members, something that most mainstream musical productions lack. Tick, Tick…BOOM! itself stands out as an authentic portrayal of the nitty gritty side of life folded into a reach-for-the-stars musical. A unique play performed by a dedicated cast, Tick Tick… BOOM! is truly a must-see.

Tick, Tick…BOOM! will run from October 23 to 26 at 8 p.m. in the Morrice Hall in the Islamic Studies building. Tickets are $6 for students and $10 for adults. Reservations can be made by email at tnc.foh@gmail.com and are highly recommended, given the limited number of seats. 

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MainLine Theatre itself, which you probably have walked by millions of times without noticing, is half-hidden – its slick black door only stands out due to the spray-painted flames that frame it. Once you step over the threshold, you are invited to climb an endless staircase that leads you into a cozy hodge-podge of a space; an environment that only adds to the excitement of watching an alternative play.

A very obscure play that translated into a pretty indie movie, The House of Yes tells the story of an incestuous twin couple that has an obsession with the Kennedy assassination. The play begins with prodigal son Marty’s (Adam Bernett) return to his childhood home, accompanied by his fiancée. The arrival of the couple pushes twin sister Jackie O (Jordana Lajoie) over the edge and brings back Marty’s childhood desires for his sibling – which, for some reason, involved a ritual recreation of the Kennedy assassination as foreplay. In other words, it’s far from the story of your typical white-bread American family. After all, the play raises a number of interesting points on human nature and humankind’s fascination for taboo subjects such as murder and sex.

Last One Standing’s adaptation of the play, a challenging feat thanks to the thorny issues involved, was successful for an array of reasons. The cast, which consisted of five young actors, did a fine job interpreting the play’s deranged character. Lajoie’s Jackie O and her mom, Madame Pascale (Chantale Demole), were particularly skilled at navigating the interplay of light and dark moments. Lajoie’s tone and inflection in particular were hard-hitting, managing to communicate a lot of tension with seemingly little effort.

The set – which includes window frames around the stage, making the audience feel as if they are peering through the family’s house’s windows – was innovative and added to the voyeuristic feel of the play. Finally, the general mood jumped from humorous to tragic in a remarkably fast-paced fashion, maintaining the audience’s engagement throughout – one of the crucial details which distinguish this play.

Last One Standing Productions describes itself on its Facebook page as constituted of ‘storytellers’ who are dedicated to their craft and wish to give new artists opportunities to express themselves creatively. This nascent theatre troupe still has a lot to accomplish, but their choice to start off with such an edgy play as The House of Yes certainly sets them apart as boundary-pushing and thought-provoking storytellers.

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