Photos by David Cooper
It’s like a playful dare when Jenny L. Wright as Teacher turns to her audience and says “You may think we have gone too far.” But that is the point of Jackie Maxwell’s production of Peter and the Starcatcher, with its guiding purpose of blatantly going farther than too far. Maxwell establishes a high level of energy in this tightly controlled silliness, one which remains delightfully overwhelming throughout and without a pause for anyone to catch a breath. Her cast is dynamic and fluid and each one delightful in all-directions-at-once movement. They are always high voltage, assertive, and politely in your face. A tone of eagerness prevails, of youthful openness to wonder. One easily submits to the overall seductive silliness (that word again) of the thing.
Well, actually, one doesn’t submit, one is sucked in by the continuity of energy (that word again) and surprise, as story line hangs on hard and is almost demolished by myriad asides from this always clever bunch of pirates and children. The cast members display an agile and self-mocking physicality, a remarkably unforced inhabitation of kooky gestures and postures, all the while maintaining a concisely etched take on adventure tale characterization. Valerie Moore’s movement direction ensures that this is a kinetically bubbly show in which each movement surprises us. Keven LaMotte’s lighting ensures that shadows have physical presence and that figures are sculpted, sometimes eerily, by light.
Peter and the Starcatcher is projected as a large theatre show, but one that is squeezed a tad into the smaller Royal George Theatre venue. The result is one of impending joyful explosion and tightly compacted insanity. We have fifty shades of neon costumes of sexual and species ambiguity, and a set of, for one, huge body sized leaves. Two ships colliding is depicted, on the other hand, by two small scale models poking at each other at arm’s length. Meanwhile, director Maxwell keeps characters interesting and engaging in their dual purposes as dramatic individuals and as vehicles for clever text and action. At the same time, Judith Bowden’s design dances fantastical and gives us not a few colours selected from a palette but, instead, the whole damn palette itself.
This happily overwhelming production aims to be all things for all people and here are some: Inspirational as in Molly assuring Boy “To have faith is to have wings.” Sentimental as when Dickensian orphans explain that they can’t be told bed time stories because they have never had beds. Romantic as when Molly says to Boy “Write when you feel like it”. Childlike as when Lord Aster and Molly speak in “Dodo” or we hear repeatedly “I hate grownups”—this in a play that is sprinkled with many grownup references, say to the likes of Ayn Rand. Crude as when a fart is introduced by the crew and it becomes an ambiguous sounding motif throughout. Indeed, we receive a good portion of groan material as in “You’ve made your bed, Pan” and, of course, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day” comes, at least in this show, with a kick in the balls.
The humour in this prequel to Peter Pan is always unanticipated and often current. Given a can of worms to eat, one lad requests “a vegetarian option”. When one pirate is called of all things “a thug” he has a much out of character cry and tantrum in reaction. We have reference to Myley Cyrus and twerking and the complaint that “The English invade the island and now nature has been focaccia-ed.” We also hear the warning “Don’t you touch one hair on that woman’s legs.” Naturally there is reference to theatre as in “Iambic is box office poison” or in this exchange, “He is chewing all the scenery” “Not in my scene he ain’t.” All this and much more comes at a fast clip while much chaotic stage movement -kitchen sink included- is going on. We are zapped with cleverness and characters who thoroughly delight. Praises to each cast member for pulling off a big show in a big way. As a result, we are happy.