Review: VCDS presents The Drowsy Chaperone

[et_pb_section bb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”3.0.47″][et_pb_row _builder_version=”3.0.47″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″][et_pb_gallery gallery_ids=”5925,5927,5926,5928,5929″ fullwidth=”on” _builder_version=”3.0.84″ pagination_font_size_tablet=”51″ pagination_line_height_tablet=”2″ /][et_pb_text _builder_version=”3.0.84″ background_layout=”light”]

Photos | Hana Nikčević

[/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”3.0.84″ text_orientation=”justified” module_alignment=”justified”]

“Don’t you hate the theatre?” a voice asks from the darkened stage.

This is how the the Victoria College Drama Society’s production The Drowsy Chaperone, directed by Meredith Shedden, begins: in total darkness. The voice belongs to the narrator—a nameless, endearing man in a knit red sweater and cuffed pants, seated in an armchair to the side of the stage.

This narrator, played by Tom Fraser, organizes the production of Drowsy on two levels. On the surface level, the “Man in Chair,” listens to a record of the fictional musical called The Drowsy Chaperone from 1928 and provides scene-by-scene commentary from the comforts of his armchair and apartment. The production itself is a parody of musicals in 1920s America.

There is also the frame narrative of the musical The Drowsy Chaperone. The musical begins with feverish excitement for the forthcoming marriage of popular musical actress Janet (Shannon Smith) and her fiancé Robert (Michael Henley). Janet plans to abandon acting after her marriage. The plot builds as Broadway producer Mr. Feldzieg (Kody McCann) tries desperately to prevent the marriage, lest he lose his job and fortune in losing Janet.

A significant portion of the comedic attempts in Drowsy feel outdated, as if they never quite made it past the late 1990s when Bob Martin and Don McKellar wrote the play. These weaker jokes contribute to a recurring sense of overeager comedy in Drowsy, such as when Robert is carried on the shoulders of dancers while singing a monkey-themed anthem and gleefully clashing cymbals.

Despite this weakness, Drowsy is studded with subtle gems. Though she has only two appearances, Trix the Aviatrix (Lucinda Qu) sings with a refreshingly velvet voice. There are a few moments of sharp and well-rehearsed tap-dancing. The well-curated costumes by Jaime Redford, Bailey Hoy, and Rachel Leggett enhance the fictional Drowsy’s 1928 charm. The comedy of Adolpho, the quick and well-poised “Latin lover” played by Ryan Falconer, adds a snarky lilt to the play’s dialogue.

It is Fraser, however, who brings the audience into the world of Drowsy and even makes them wish to stay. The audience receives subtle reminders throughout the production that the musical Drowsy is a product of Man in Chair’s record; at one point, he pauses the play to eat an energy bar, while at other points, he raises from his chair to dance alongside Drowsy’s unaware characters.

At first, Man in Chair had appeared to be a Holden Caulfield of the theatre—but perhaps he is a bit softer, a bit sweeter. After the intermission, he not only switches from tea to whiskey, but from lighter humour to darker cynicisms. He reveals some bitterness towards love, subtly dropping hints at his recent divorce, his ex-partner’s mental illness, an absent father, and the confusions that arise due to these difficulties.

It is a sense of confusion, indeed, that emerges as Drowsy’s underlining note. This confusion is solidified in the production’s defining moment, in which the namesake character herself, the Chaperone, gives Janet her final piece of advice regarding her marriage. Just as the Chaperone is leaning in to give this wisdom, an object drops on stage and drowns out her words. Man in Chair pauses the record and jumps to his feet, pointing to his favourite moment of the entire play. It is impossible to decipher, he explains, whether the Chaperone’s advice was to “live while you can,” or to “leave while you can.” Space for uncertainty is created by this pivotal moment.

“Don’t you hate the theatre?,” Man in Chair had asked. We know this rhetorical question is far from true for our protagonist by the end of the production. As the musical Drowsy falls into its concluding number, Man in Chair leaves his armchair to take a seat in the audience. In so doing, he signals acceptance—an acceptance of the “live while you can/leave while you can” moments, of the confusion that brings us together or breaks us apart, of the bittersweet taste beneath every surface. The audience is left with an understanding that, despite it all, we have theatre, song, and art to help us through.

[/et_pb_text][/et_pb_column][/et_pb_row][/et_pb_section][et_pb_section bb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”3.0.84″][et_pb_row _builder_version=”3.0.84″][et_pb_column type=”4_4″][/et_pb_column][/et_pb_row][/et_pb_section]

2 thoughts on “Review: VCDS presents The Drowsy Chaperone”

Comments are closed.