The Unexpected Impact of Expectation in Citadel Theatre’s The Fiancée
My expectations are high. It almost feels unfair. Just as my fellow patrons expect me to be some sort of fancy theatre critic, I sit in a fancy theatre and I expect a fancy show.
My expectations are high. It almost feels unfair. Just as my fellow patrons expect me to be some sort of fancy theatre critic, I sit in a fancy theatre and I expect a fancy show.
The building shakes. The whole audience has joined in, one joyful scream in a darkened theatre. This. This is familiar.
To return to a Canada still starved of this normalcy feels wrong; acrid; frustrating. When I get back to Toronto (or, let’s be real, North York), I’ll simply have to tell my friends and colleagues about the magic of a packed theatre, rows and rows of masks, applause, closeness. They won’t get to feel it themselves for a few months yet, it seems
We aren’t laughing about the events of the past two years. We aren’t even laughing at Jason Kenney himself. We’re simply laughing together.
When I reflect on the number of artists I know who suffer from mental health issues, and the unique stressors that come with our profession, the resources available to us and the awareness we have about public services feel meagre and insufficient.
A playwright, an actor, a designer, and two theatre creators/performers talk about what it’s like working on a piece of theatre based, in some way, in reality.
Sometimes the little cities can surprise you.
“I had a little break before Shaw rehearsals started, and so my husband and I went to France to do the Joan pilgrimage.”
Lately I’ve started responding to such inquiries with ethereal (and possibly irritating) catchphrases like “timeless” and “as old as the universe.”