Not quite a play, not quite a concert: GCTC ode to Joni Mitchell gets by on superb songs

by Lynn Saxberg
Ottawa Citizen
September 13, 2002

Canadian playwright Bryden MacDonald's latest creation is not a musical. It's not really a play, either. And it's definitely not a concert. It's a "theatrical interpretation" of the music of Joni Mitchell titled When All The Slaves Are Free. The title comes from the lyric in Mitchell's song Passion Play: "Who you gonna get to do the dirty work/When all the slaves are free?"

It runs until Sept. 29 at the Great Canadian Theatre Company.

In the second of two "preview" performances Wednesday at the GCTC -- so termed because they're considered dress rehearsals in front of an audience -- it wasn't exactly clear why MacDonald was inspired to take Mitchell's songs out of context, or if it worked.

We know he had done it before with the music of Leonard Cohen and Rough Trade, the latter being such a left-field choice one has to assume he is a big fan. (When defining Canadian icons, Mitchell is a far more obvious target than Rough Trade's Carole Pope.)

GCTC artistic director Lorne Pardy commissioned Mitchell, but after seeing Wednesday's preview, we're not sure that Slaves is the labour of love that Macdonald's Pope piece, Shaking the Foundations, must have been.

For starters, if you're attending the show as a Mitchell fan rather than a theatre fan, you'll miss the open-tuned guitar, a feature so integral to so much of Mitchell's music that it seems unthinkable to remove it. Instead, MacDonald puts the musical accompaniment in the hands of a jazz trio, made up of piano, stand-up bass and drums. While they are perfectly competent with the intricate material, the configuration seems to take away some of the unique character of Mitchell's songs.

Presenting a string of songs on stage with no obvious plot linking them is another challenge, and MacDonald goes out of his way to avoid it coming across as a concert. There is an ebb and flow to the production, but it has more to do with the actors' performances than the lyrical content of the songs.

Set in a stylish bar -- likely one of the myriad "cafes" Mitchell mentions in her songs -- the singers pour drinks, fiddle with ice, adjust chairs and drape themselves as they sing. They're dressed casually, in jeans with hippie flourishes such as a fringed belt, turquoise jewelry or a peasant top.

While none is intended to be Mitchell, cast members Susan Henley, Mary Kelly and Elizabeth Beeler project various aspects of her personality, as interpreted through the songs (and detailed by MacDonald in the program notes). The dreamer muses during Both Sides Now, the party girl laughs out loud In France They Kiss On Main Street and a wanderer lays out her longing in All I Want. In his notes, MacDonald also identifies the "bewildered observer" of Big Yellow Taxi, the "restless soul" of Hejira, and the "passionate champion of mad artists" in Turbulent Indigo.

One of the best performances is Beeler's obsessed lover who smokes a cigarette during A Case of You. (Be warned: Beeler actually lights up during the song, a noxious nod to the real Joni.) Another highlight is the big yellow finale.

The cigarette is one example of the theatrical gestures that pervade the production. Sunglasses are removed, hands are washed, a flower is picked -- small motions that are distracting enough to remind you it's not a concert but fall short of making a dramatic script.

In the end, what saves the production is the singing. On Wednesday, fresh-faced Beeler stood out with her impressive range -- as soon as she snapped out of the tendency to talk-sing. Sultry-voiced Kelly, the physical opposite of the blond, willowy Mitchell, brought an unexpected sense of humour to the show, while Henley's sturdy voice and engaging smile found a comfortable middle ground between the two.

Still, no matter how good the song or the singer -- and both are very good in Slaves -- there is an undeniable connection between a songwriter and her own song that can't be expected to happen in a production like this.

Actors performing an entire evening of a singer-songwriter's most intimate material is a pleasant enough outing for fans -- as long as they're able to overlook the unnatural thrust of the whole thing.