Written, Composed, and Directed by Jonathan Christenson
A Catalyst Theatre Production for The Canadian Stage Company
At the Bluma Appel
May 6-29, 2010

   Forget Mary Shelley’s 1813 novel about The Modern Promotheus where a young man creates a living being out of human remains, only to later discover the limits of his power over his creation. Forget, too, if you can, Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein, that parodies science fiction and horror movies. The Catalyst Theatre’s Frankenstein is a Canadian invention—which means, of course, that the setting is a wintry wasteland or horror. Of course, Shelley’s novel also describes a winter wasteland, so this setting is understandable, especially as it becomes one of the most visually arresting elements in the show. Bretta Gerecke is listed as Production Designer, and her work is superb: made almost entirely of paper in various textures and shapes, the setting is the visual equivalent of the libretto’s “strange days” where “something’s terribly wrong in this world” and quite “beyond repair.” Strange twisted shapes, like melting icicles or candle wax, dominate the stage, lit in lurid colours. The Creature, however, seems weirdly incongruous even for this bizarre landscape. Tall, large of limb, and wielding huge claws for hands, he could be something out of Ralph Klein’s mind—a monster as Western super-hero. “What have we created?” Jonathan Christenson’s pastiche libretto asks, without much sense of irony. The answer should be obvious, however: a Creature for Commerce in an age of brutishness.

   Christenson is surely an intelligent man. His show certainly indicates his familiarity with Gilbert and Sullivan, Stephen Sondheim, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Kurt Weill, Bertolt Brecht, Lewis Carroll, and Tim Burton. I am informed by a reliable source that he also knows his Trash Operas—whatever those may be. I haven’t the foggiest, but I know that what I saw on opening night was a mishmash of styles, from Expressionist tableaux to Camp to comic-strip caricature to sentimental music hall entertainment to children’s fantasy. After about fifteen minutes of overly articulated chorus narration, songs of insistent rhyme, music that was often little more than over-extended vamps that did not extend the drama, lyrics that were embarrassingly juvenile, and dialogue that seemed to have come from animated picture books, I was bored stiff.

   The acting doesn’t rescue anything. It ranges from the competent Victor Frankenstein of Andrew Kushnir and the somewhat affecting Creature of George Szilaygi (who, alas, is outrageously flat on a number of notes in songs) to the excruciating ensemble work that often resembles amateur night at a little town theatre. To say that none of the characters on stage actually bears much resemblance to Shelley’s originals is to state the obvious. As the libretto pronounces without evident self-irony: “So much lost, so little won. So much damage done.”

photos:Jackson Hinton

pic 1: The cast of "Frankenstein"

pic 2: Andrew Kushnir and Nick Green in "Frankenstein"



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