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Rather than a "review," each post features a collection of observations, intended primarily for people who've already seen the play. Check out the introduction post for more context.
by Marco Ramirez
Soulpepper Theatre
Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann
The Royale is a knockout production that doesn’t pull any emotional punches. Just when it hooks your attention with one idea — pow! — it pounds you in the heart with a hard cross. (The quota for mandatory boxing puns is now filled).
How many boxing movies can you name in ten seconds? You probably managed Raging Bull, Cinderella Man, and, of course, Rocky (along with its SEVEN sequels…). In total, the sweet science has appeared on the silver screen more than fifty times. Now, how many PLAYS about boxing can you name? *crickets* Clifford Odets’ Golden Boy might be the only boxing play to have earned a lasting legacy, and even that is likely due to the 1939 film and the 1964 musical adaptation that starred Sammy Davis, Jr. Why the significant discrepancy between boxing’s appearance on screen versus stage? For technical/logistical reasons, film is better equipped (with camera angles and editing) to capture the inherent physical chaos in sports than theatre (imagine an on-stage actor needing to score a basketball free throw with one hundred percent accuracy…). Moreover, a lot of sporting culture revolves around fandom, and film allows for arenas packed with thousands of spectators. Soulpepper’s production addresses the first issue through dynamic staging (Guillermo Verdecchia) and stark lighting (Michelle Ramsey) that captures the visceral essence of boxing without resorting to hokey slow-motion bouts or overly abstract movements. Marco Ramirez’s script solves the latter concern; although the physical presence of an audience is removed, their swirling mix of cheers and heckles is energetically conveyed through exposition, dialogue, and narrative action.
Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann
Speaking of boxing movies, many actors attract attention for their ability to reshape their body for a specific role (see: Bale, Christian). Of course, Hollywood actors spend months working with personal trainers, personal nutritionists, personal chefs, etc. In the context of the Canadian, not-for-profit theatre world, getting in shape requires dedication from the actors, who need to consider their diet, exercise, and sleep. Kudos to Christef Desir and Dion Johnstone for sculpting themselves into ideal models for the early-twentieth century knit shorts the boxers wear for most of the show (Ken MacKenzie).
Most people know Marco Ramirez from his writing and producing credits on acclaimed television shows (Orange is the New Black, Sons of Anarchy, Daredevil, etc). Before his Netflix success, though, Ramirez studied playwriting at Juilliard. Dear Mr. Ramirez: The Royale is great; please write more plays.
In this millennium, the profile of heavyweight boxing has been eclipsed by stars in lighter weight classes (Floyd Mayweather Jr., Oscar De La Hoya, Manny Pacquiao), as well as the mixed martial arts carnage in UFC’s numerous pay-per-view events. The Royale reminds us that for a long reign, heavyweight boxers were among the most famous people on earth.
Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann
When a woman walks onto the stage of a play with a male-centric cast, about a male-dominated sport, the audience presumes one thing: here comes the love interest. The character Nina (and the electric presence of Sabryn Rock) upends that expectation, delivering a narrative twist, a moral dilemma, and an empathetic perspective that haunts the rest of the play.
American political discord in contemporary (and historic…) times are routinely inflamed by racial tensions. Although rooting for teams and athletes is often perceived as a frivolous pursuit, sports remains one of the most important subjects for analyzing race in America. (see: Kaepernick, Colin).
I love the precise spark of recognition when a seemingly irrelevant title of a book or play suddenly and evocatively reveals its meaning (see: Rye, Catcher in the). The story of the Royale (the place) in The Royale (the play) not only lowers our collective faith in humanity, but also sharpens Ramirez’s notion that Jay’s biggest battles will be fought outside the ring.
Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann
In the lobby, I overheard numerous conversations buzzing with excitement about the announcement of Weyni Mengesha as Soulpepper’s new Artistic Director.
A few weeks before attending The Royale, I coincidentally began boxing classes (a somewhat random decision, seeing as how my last fight occurred backstage at a grade 6 spelling bee). I’ve previously participated in team sports like basketball and solo endeavours like cross-country, but I’ve discovered that boxing is an odd activity that can’t be easily compared to other activities. You train, mostly alone, but in the presence of other people, mostly training alone. You punch an inanimate object and imagine that it’s a human hitting you back. The whole situation is rather absurd, but it’s one that people take very(!) seriously. Boxing requires equal parts careful thinking and primal reflexes. The contradictions between what people think and what people do are a rich source for drama, and when it comes to exploring these themes on stage, Ramirez is a champion.
-Nick Hanson
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