Cruel And Tender

Nothing about war is subtle. And neither is anything about acclaimed film director Atom Egoyan’s return to the stage with Cruel And Tender by Martin Crimp, 2012’s first offering from Canadian Stage at the Bluma Appel Theatre.

Rooted in ancient Greek tragedy (Sophocles’ The Women Of Trachis), this portrayal of marriage, love, and war isn’t completely unexpected. In the familiar role of the wife patiently awaiting the return of her husband from war overseas is Amelia (Arsinée Khanjian). Three attendants—a housekeeper (Brenda Robins), physiotherapist (Cara Ricketts), and beautician (Sarah Wilson)—halfheartedly fulfill their duties by repeating her commands and humoring her odd taste in music as she frets over her husband’s fate and her ill fortune.

Then, an arrival comes from the war-torn country. But, instead of restoring balance to Amelia’s life, the arrival destroys it even more. The General (Daniel Kash) has sent home two orphans—one a boy, the other a beautiful young woman named Laela (Abena Malika)—who hold the secret to the real reason behind the pillaging of their village. This secret, when discovered, leads to the undoing of both Amelia and her husband.

Written in the more immediate aftermath of 9/11, the script is unabashedly critical of the pursuit of war for any reason, political or personal. Its message is that war will spill blood, burn homes, ruin childhoods, and cause sane people to lose all rationality and self-control. The audience not only sees this through the various downfalls of the tragic characters, but also in the more visceral visual elements of the production, including highly dramatic lighting; war scene projections on the stark set; the repeated use of the colours red, white, and black in the mise-en-scène; and a stomach-churning SFX set piece as the curtains close.

These contributions from set and costume designer Debra Hanson and lighting designer Michael Walton allow the true spirit of the play to come through. The imposing slant of Amelia’s home is immediately discomforting. The aforementioned projections by Cameron Davis are haunting, especially when simply showing the ghostly silhouettes of advancing soldiers. Walton’s lighting is at times distracting, but it’s undeniably jarring. And while Laela is a superb picture of Billie Holiday in her crimson sequined gown, Amelia, in her rather dowdy frock, looks the part of a woman who’s lost her grip on her throne. Egoyan’s stylistic vision is clearly the strongest aspect of the production.

But when it comes to the characters, the show fails to detonate. Ten years ago, the story might have been provoking. But today, with the notion of an all-powerful dictator fading, the revelations are already common knowledge and even predictable. It’s also well-documented that the dangers of marriage can drive people to madness—even the Greeks knew that.

Three performances stand out with a story worthy of exploring—Nigel Shawn Williams as The General’s slimy messenger, who minces words and swaggers his way across the stage a with sleazy charm; Jeff Lillico as Amelia’s son, James, torn between the catastrophic fate of his two parents; and Robins as the subtly condescending housekeeper, who seems to have more knowledge of the household affairs than she lets on. Otherwise, the rest of the characters keep the audience at arm’s length, as if we’re watching them at a zoo for the victims of war, or reading a textbook.

Until a play about the abused of war won’t again becomes topical in some fashion, the subjects addressed here are still worth discussing, as long as something new is brought to the table. While visually captivating, Cruel And Tender is missing that key ingredient.

Grade: C+