{"id":9670,"date":"2009-10-29T16:44:26","date_gmt":"2009-10-29T20:44:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=9670"},"modified":"2015-05-11T12:06:04","modified_gmt":"2015-05-11T16:06:04","slug":"slings-arrows","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=9670","title":{"rendered":"Slings & Arrows<\/i>"},"content":{"rendered":"

Slings & Arrows<\/a>\"\" was a Canadian television series, lasting three seasons, and it was about the inner workings of a giant Shakespeare festival theatre (based on the Stratford Festival, obviously, in Canada). My friend Kate sent me the first season last year, and within five minutes of watching I was so hooked that it made me actually NERVOUS because I couldn’t see the whole thing IMMEDIATELY. I didn’t even finish the first episode before I bought the next two seasons online, and had them sent to me Priority Overnight Mail. Even though there was no way I could watch the entire first season by the next day – it didn’t matter: life is a precarious fragile thing, and you never know what will happen. Today is all that matters. Now granted, the series obviously has a special appeal to actors and directors, anyone who works in the theatre. It so gets the entire atmosphere, the conflict, the panic, the absolutely ridiculous situations, the hard work, the egos, the thrill of an opening night … and the eternal clash of commerce and art. Because the New Burbage Festival (the fictional theatre in the series) is an enormous internationally known organization, the commerce side of things must be given its due. But must it? Slings & Arrows<\/i> dares to not just ask those questions, but weigh them, play with them, laugh at them, even though civilians (ie: people outside the theatre) are often annoyed by such things, and sneer at artists who dare to take themselves and their careers seriously. One of the greatest “lessons” captured by this series is that expectations of any specific result is art’s undoing entirely. Reminds me of Ellen Burstyn’s four instructions for acting:
\n1. Show up
\n2. Pay attention
\n3. Tell the truth
\n4. Don’t be attached to the outcome
\nAy, there’s the rub. And how do you not be attached to the outcome when you have a Board of Directors, an American movie star flying in to Canada to play Hamlet, an enormous budget, internships, and corporate sponsorship? What happens then?<\/p>\n

The character of Geoffrey Tenant (played by the gorgeous on-the-verge-of-blurpy hunk Paul Gross) is the one who really straddles this divide.<\/p>\n

If I’m making this sound ponderous or serious, I am totally doing a disservice to the thing. It is laugh-out-loud funny. And antic. And yet totally serious all at the same time. Just like the theatre. It may seem nuts to someone who isn’t in the theatre, that people would literally be screaming at each other about the nuances of iambic pentameter, or throwing a fit because the director has placed her with her back to the audience during her biggest moment – but when you’re in the thick of it, it’s not nuts at all. Or – it IS, and it is ALSO serious. Slings & Arrows<\/i> gets this like nobody’s business. Art is big business at the New Burbage Festival, and yet when you get right down to it: if the work itself isn’t good, then the New Burbage Festival wouldn’t be what it is. So the work must be paramount. And yet … will anyone pay big money to go see a post-modern rendering of Romeo and Juliet<\/i>? Or a Brecht play? What about the subscriber base? Should they do a musical, just to satisfy the commercial concerns?<\/p>\n

The New Burbage Festival has a core company of actors, it is an ensemble, these people have been working together for years. They know each other’s quirks, they are annoyed by each other, yet they back each other up when it’s curtain time. It’s like a family. A cantankerous eccentric family. They all go way way back. Everyone holds grudges for YEARS. Nobody is particularly likable, and yet they are all totally lovable. I love these people. I love them so much.<\/p>\n

MINOR SPOILER HERE:<\/p>\n

Oliver Welles is the long-suffering artistic director who SPOLER dies in the first episode. And yet he pops up throughout the rest of the series, a wandering ghost in the theatre, with unfinished business – professionally (he has always been haunted by Macbeth<\/i>, obsessed by it for decades, and yet had never done a production of it that really satisfied him) and personally (the ruptured relationship he has with the lead actress of the company and Geoffrey Tenant, who had once been the star actor of the company).<\/p>\n

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Oliver Welles is played by the marvelously sour Stephen Ouimette, a man who had once been at the forefront of the exciting theatre movement in Canada, doing groundbreaking productions of Shakespeare that people still talk about 10, 12 years later. He is now depressed, skating on his reputation, phoning it in, directing a production of Midsummer Night’s Dream<\/i> in an almost somnambulist state of crankiness and apathy. In one of the first scenes in the first episode, they’re having a tech rehearsal, and you can tell that this is a very over-produced show, that the play itself is lost in the special effects. A platform is rolled onstage with fake sheep on it for one of the pastoral scenes. Oliver turns and shouts up at the lighting booth where the stage manager (a terrifically funny performance by Catherine Fitch) is suffering through her light cues – and says, “MARIA. Where are the bleats?” (Meaning: sound cue of bleating of the sheep). Maria says back, confused, “Oh, so you DO want the bleats?” Oliver, completely annoyed, shouts back, “Of COURSE I want the bleats. Without the bleats, there’s no IRONY, Maria. Everybody knows that.” And put a fork in Sheila, I’m done. I was hooked from that moment forward. Only in that context would any of it make sense, and even then, it’s totally ridiculous. The bleating sheep add IRONY? What??<\/p>\n

One of the best parts of the series is that the backstage relationships are totally engrossing, yes. We get clashes between director and actors, stage manager and actors, the business manager and the artistic director … but we ALSO get a nice detailed look at rehearsal processes, and we also see a seriousness about the work itself that, when all is said and done, is what it’s all about.<\/p>\n

Each season (and there are three) span the rehearsal process of one particular show. The first season is Hamlet<\/i>, the second season is Macbeth<\/i> and the final season is King Lear<\/i>. So we get to see the process from start to finish. Is the actor cast as Macbeth really right for the part? What the hell are they going to do about the AWFUL actress cast as Ophelia? And etc. It’s just a joy, and I would say to any teacher at a high school level, trying to teach any of these plays, popping in Slings and Arrows<\/i> to show the kids some of these rehearsal scenes would be invaluable. Not only is it amazing to watch how the series really lets the thing unfold, we get to see performances of Hamlet, or Macbeth, actually EMERGE – wonderful! – but it’s also a damn fine lesson in script analysis. It makes you think about the Bard. It makes you think about him twice. I know Shakespeare pretty well, but Slings & Arrows<\/i>, like any good piece of art, made me realize how much I DIDN’T know.<\/p>\n

Beautiful stuff.<\/p>\n

Not to mention the acting of the leads.<\/p>\n

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Martha Burns (Paul Gross’ wife in real life, lucky lady) plays Ellen, the lead actress at the New Burbage Festival, a bit of a diva, difficult, prickly, yet a fantastic actress with a huge fanbase. She’s a leading lady. She’s been there for years. When we first meet her, she is pushing 40, and rather unpleasant about it. She takes young lovers. As in barely-legal lovers, bartenders and delivery boys. (One of the snotty members of the ensemble whispers to his colleague, “She’s trying to screw the years off.”) She is ambitious, and yet also – you get the sense that maybe she’s gotten a bit too comfortable in her position at New Burbage. She’s used to the way things are normally done. She’s a control freak. She doesn’t like to not know what she’s doing. Events begin to unfold where she loses control, and it actually turns out to be a great thing for her development as an actress (and that’s what it’s all about for artists, never forget that) – but she resists it all the way. She is a great character. Unpleasant, unfriendly, yet professional, serious about her work, and has a damn right to her spot on that stage. We can see the proof in her performances, when we get glimpses of them throughout the series.<\/p>\n

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Paul Gross plays Geoffrey Tenant, who, when the series first opens, is seen opening a new theatre in an abandoned garage in a seedy side of town. It takes a while to get the full scope of the story (and Slings & Arrows<\/i> takes its time. We don’t realize what the real rupture was until the last episode of the first season.) but apparently, once upon a time, many years ago, Geoffrey Tenant was the hot new star at the New Burbage Festival, dear friends with Oliver Welles, and boyfriend to Ellen, the lead actress. But then, something happened to him during a performance of Hamlet<\/i> (he was playing Hamlet, Ellen playing Ophelia), he went blank, and couldn’t go on with the play. He jumped into Ophelia’s open grave onstage and refused to come out. He was finally carted off to a mental institution, where he spent some time, and since then, he has disappeared. He has no contact anymore with Oliver, or with Ellen. You get the sense from these early scenes with him at his new theatre, that he is a true visionary, and also rather insane. He is passionate about Shakespeare, and disgusted with how commercial New Burbage has become. He wants to provide an alternative. Something real, not so slick. But, through a series of unfortunate events, Geoffrey is drawn back to New Burbage (actually dragged back), where he finds himself offered the position of Interim Artistic Director. He immediately starts stirring shit up, he doesn’t play the corporate game, he has total contempt for everyone there – and although the Board of Directors is frustrated, the actors are jazzed. Conflict arises. Not to mention the bitterness that remains between him and Ellen. It’s great rich stuff. Paul Gross plays Geoffrey as an annoying often very funny big KID. He has no impulse control. He says whatever he wants. He’s out of control, and holding onto sanity with his pinky finger. But in the rehearsal room, when he’s working with the actors, and with Shakespeare, he shines. He knows who he is there. Marvelous performance.<\/p>\n

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Mark McKinney (one of the creators of the series) plays Richard Smith-Jones, the executive director of the New Burbage Festival. The money guy. First of all, can we please just take a moment to appreciate the ridiculous humor of his hyphenated last name. Smith Jones?? McKinney is such a fine actor, this is a truly comedic and wonderful performance. I could see William H. Macy in this part. It requires that level of depth and commitment, that fearlessness when it comes to looking ridiculous, and also the ability to make the audience’s heart break for you, even though you are playing a despicable (in many ways) guy. He doesn’t understand actors or artists, he is concerned with the bottom line, he is intimidated by Geoffrey Tenant, and yet he MUST deal with him and get him under control, if the season is going to move forward. McKinney is the perfect blend of serious corncob-up-the-ass tightwad, and also goofy dude who is always in panic-mode. He’s brilliant. Not to mention the fact that this whole thing came partly from his brain.<\/p>\n

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The marvelous Susan Coyne, one of the leading ladies of Canada, (as well as one of the creators of Slings and Arrows<\/i>), plays Anna, the by-the-book on-top-of-EVERYTHING administrative director of the festival. She manages EVERYONE. She runs around, in a tightly controlled run, wearing bright little suits, she loves the actors, she has total sympathy for them even though she doesn’t understand what the hell they are doing in their “process”, and her whole life is keeping New Burbage running smoothly. She’s got a tough job. She is one of the only people in this entire world who seems to have no ego. She’s not a wuss, she’s a tough cookie, but she isn’t driven by selfish reasons. She runs around like a chicken with her head cut off, dealing with press releases, and sending car services to pick up the movie star flying in to play Hamlet, and keeping everyone happy, making sure everyone feels their concerns are heard. Susan Coyne is a fantastic actress and Anna, who could have been a humorless finger-wagger, is anything but that. She’s all heart. She also has moments that are as funny as anything that happens in the entire damn series. I love her.<\/p>\n

Each season has different guest stars, since the New Burbage Theatre Festival, along with its core ensemble, hires out.<\/p>\n

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In the first season, the luminous Rachel McAdams (I would swear that this girl blushes on cue, like Duse did), gives one of her nicest performances, as Kate, an apprentice at the theatre. Being an apprentice at a theatre like this means you are paid diddly-squat, you understudy lead roles (but you’ll never get to play them), and you play third maid to the left. You probably are also involved in the theatre’s outreach programs (all such theatres have them: teaching acting workshops at schools, or whatever). You get Equity points, and you have the possibility of, you know, working there again. If you’re lucky. Kate saw the New Burbage production of Hamlet<\/i> (starring Geoffrey Tenant, before he went batshit crazy) when she was 12 and it changed her life. She knew she had to work there someday. She plays a fairy in Midsummer Night’s Dream<\/i>, and then she is the understudy for Ophelia (who is a terrible, hopeless actress). But Kate is a team-player, just so excited to be there, she isn’t a climber, she really submits to the process. This is the biggest moment of her life. McAdams is marvelous here. She’s playing your basic ingenue, but she manages to infuse Kate with some real pain, some anxiety and insecurity, and yet when the time comes for her to “show up” on stage, she can do it. You get the sense that this young actress will go far.<\/p>\n

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Thrown into this mix is a big-wig action star in Hollywood, who is coming to “play Hamlet<\/i>“, even though he has no stage experience, and zero Shakespeare experience. He is a hot young actor in Hollywood and he thinks that “playing Hamlet<\/i>” would give him some legitimacy “in the States”. Or, no, the way he puts it is: “My agent thinks it will give me some legitimacy in the States.” You can imagine how this might go over with the ensemble members at the New Burbage, who have devoted their lives to the place … it’s not a waystation for them, or a stepping-stone, it is their LIVES. Jack Crew is his name. Of course it is. He strolls into the rehearsal process, ready to learn and do a good job, of course, but you can feel the low expectations of him. Luke Kirby plays this role, and this kid is terrific. I actually think that the role of Jack Crew is the most challenging in the first season, because if he just comes off as a dick, none of it would work. He has to have the ability to show his insecurity, and then underneath that, his sheer TERROR at having to stand up on a STAGE and say “To be or not to be”. But he’s a movie star. He has 10 projects in the pipeline. He has that glow around him, of success. But he’s not a dick. He becomes the person you are rooting for the most in this thing. Rehearsals go by, and he avoids doing “the text”, he improvises around the text, telling people “it’s a Method thing. The words have to be my own before I can own them.” There is some validity to this process, but eventually, at the end of the day, you have to say the words Shakespeare wrote. Will Jack be able to make that leap of faith? It’s thrilling to watch his struggle. Again, he has the trappings of stardom. The sunglasses, the hoodie, the leather bracelet, the stack of movie scripts on his dresser … But that doesn’t necessarily mean he is a soulless dick. A lesser show, a show with more of a CHIP on its shoulder, would have made Jack suffer more, to show him that what they were doing was REAL art and he was just a sellout, not a real actor. But Slings & Arrows<\/i> isn’t interested in making that kind of judgment. Even though he does big action movies with almost no dialogue, he is in the same damn field that they are. THEY may resent him, because there are obviously many brilliant young classically trained actors who WON’T be playing Hamlet, because HE will be … but that’s the biz. They all understand that. Having Jack Crew play the part will also pack in the audience. BUT. BUT. What about JACK’S experience of this whole thing? What is HE going through? Slings & Arrows<\/i> really delves into that with him, and it’s one of the most moving parts of the entire first season. It doesn’t PRETEND to reconcile art and commerce. They are not to be reconciled, because both exist, regardless of the other. Jack is rich and a star. But when he’s up on that stage, with no camera on him, no cut-aways, no close-ups, he must rely on something that is inside him, that was probably there in the beginning: the desire to play make-believe. He needs to call upon something ELSE. And that will ALWAYS be the case. I just love that the creators of Slings & Arrows<\/i> took him seriously (even though there are many ridiculous and funny scenes of him “improvising” Shakespeare scenes, as all of the other actors glance at each other in a worried manner, like: “Uhm … was that my cue? Because I can’t tell …”), and let HIM have a growth-spurt too.<\/p>\n

Good work.<\/p>\n

I’ll be writing more about Slings & Arrows<\/i>, but this is the opening salvo. If you HAVEN’T seen it, then all I can say is: do yourself a favor. You will not be sorry.<\/p>\n