THE COSMONAUT’S LAST MESSAGE TO THE WOMAN HE ONCE LOVED IN THE FORMER SOVIET UNION by David Greig, directed by Jennifer Tarver, with Tom Barnett, Raoul Bhaneja, Fiona Byrne, David Jansen, Tony Nappo and Sarah Wilson (Canadian Stage). At Bluma Appel Theatre (27 Front East). Previews begin Saturday (April 16), opens April 21 and runs to May 14, Monday-Saturday 8 pm, matinees Wednesday 1:30 pm, Saturday 2 pm. $22-$99. 416-368-3110. See listing.
Theatre is all about communication, between characters as well as actors and audience. How ironic, then, that Scottish playwright David Greig’s The Cosmonaut’s Last Message To The Woman He Once Loved In The Former Soviet Union – a mouth-filling title, that – deals with the inability of people to connect. Seemingly unrelated, their stories slowly begin to knit together.
“The play uses a really diverse group of people to examine how links of communication break down and how they try to repair them, not always with success,” says Fiona Byrne, who returned to Toronto last year after 11 seasons at the Shaw Festival. Since then, she’s done fine work in Soulpepper productions of Waiting For The Parade and A Month In The Country.
At the centre of the piece are two cosmonauts circling the Earth in their space module, Harmony 114, seemingly forgotten by their government. The ship’s name is ironic, since the two bicker regularly, one recalling the daughter he hasn’t seen in a dozen years, the other trying to remember a former lover.
“Greig tackles some beautifully ambitious yet essential themes,” says Byrne. “At times the play seems to sprawl – there are more than 42 scenes – yet he brings it all together in detailed, precise ways as we wander from the space module to a Soho bar, from Provence to Oslo.”
Like most of the cast, Byrne plays two characters. At first glance, the pair couldn’t be more different. Vivienne is a prim speech therapist, content on the surface but locked in a stale marriage to Keith, a civil servant. Sylvia, an erotic dancer, has had a hard life and fixates on Nastasja, another dancer, who’s taken up with a string of lovers.
“How strange that Vivienne’s job is to help others communicate, but she can’t do so herself. Trapped in an inhibiting life and marriage, she’s unable to reach out for help until late in the play.
“Greig underlines the irony of the situation by giving her a patient who’s suffered a stroke. Though he has difficulty articulating his own thoughts, he still teaches her so much about the importance of making the effort to express your feelings.”
Sylvia, on the other hand, has led an overtly abusive life.
“You’d think she’d be defeated by now, but she reaches out to Nastasja with her raw pain. I think she’s one of the toughest characters in the play, a real survivor.”
With its many short scenes, the play unfolds almost filmically. Byrne speaks of the episodes, all of them packed with information, as snapshots. “The action turns on a dime, and you’ve got to be on your game emotionally and physically. You have to give the essence of your characters in each scene and switch from one to another immediately.
“That means being specific about defining each character and being comfortable in different worlds. Accents are one aid, since the characters not only speak different languages” – though what the audience hears is always English – “but also with various accents.”
Does Byrne ever slip up between Vivienne’s Edinburgh inflection and Sylvia’s cockney?
“Yes,” she smiles, “I fall into my comfortable one, the Scottish accent. It may be warm and comforting for me, but Edinburgh speech patterns wouldn’t cut it with Sylvia’s sometimes hard, cold speeches.”
Interview Clips
Performing classical and contemporary plays:
Working with director Jennifer Tarver:
jonkap@nowtoronto.com
