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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.
Jerusalem by Jez Butterworth
A Company Theatre and Outside the March co-production in association with Starvox Entertainment
Photo by Dahlia Katz
When a Sons of Anarchy fan asked me about the performance of Kim Coates, I replied “warrior” — a word I can’t ever recall using to describe an artist or their work. Rooster is one of the more demanding roles (physically, vocally, and emotionally) that I’ve seen on stage in some time.
If Jerusalem was developed in Canada, the play would be 90 minutes long with no intermission. The cast of 8 would combine the characters of Lee/Davey and Pea/Tanya; one performer would play Mr. Parsons/Troy/Wesley and another one would play Ms. Fawcett/Dawn. Phaedra would be a projection.
When a child — a real, live child — appears on stage, everything changes. I can’t think of another play where the presence of a child (both the character and the performer) amplifies the tension in such significant ways.
A solid three-dimensional structure (in this case a trailer) can imbue an environment with a profounder sense of mystery than most two-dimensional scenic elements. There’s a whole world inside Rooster’s trailer — not only what’s mentioned in the play, but also what appears in the audience’s imagination.
Photo by Dahlia Katz
My friend and I (both 30s) attended a Wednesday matinee, where most of the audience members seemed old enough to have seen St. George in person. We jokingly wondered about the number of audience members who would leave during the two intermissions. In fact, those elderly patrons: 1) came to the show, 2) stayed to the end, and 3) hooted and hollered during the curtain call. Theatre people regularly besmirch the blue-haired demographic, but that ignores the rich benefits of someone seeing a production in the context of extensive lived experiences, both personal and artistic.
Personal bias: I usually loathe accents on stage (too alienating, too shifting, too “othering”). In Jerusalem, though, the vocal patterns are fluid and seamless, bringing the audience into the community of Flintock. (Respect to dialect coach John Nelles and the cast).
The pre-show festivities were too loud, too chaotic, and too overwhelming. As a result, it was absolutely perfect. “Interactive” theatre is often so polished that it belongs in a proscenium. Truly immersing the audience in an experience requires a bit of messiness (provided it doesn’t transgress personal boundaries, which never happens in Jerusalem).
I usually appreciate the precision of a well-made play, but there’s something magical about the sprawling scale of Jez Butterworth’s script. What was implied versus stated? Which characters earn the audience’s sympathy, admiration, or ire? How are modern audiences relating to the classical myths?
The discounted seats for under-30/arts workers were in the front row and comfy. Not in the very back row. Not on rigid wooden bleachers. Not on the floor for three hours. Not released for sale 15 minutes before the performance. Yes! Yes! Yes! If you build it they will come!
If you drop things on the audience, they will smile. Always.
—Nick Hanson
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