THE CORPSE BRIDE adapted by Niki Landau, directed by Paul Lampert (Theatre Panik/Harold Green Jewish Theatre/Ashkenaz Festival). Enwave Theatre (231 Queens Quay West). Saturday (September 1) at 5 pm and Sunday (September 2) at 1 pm. $25 advance, $30 day of performance. 416-973-4000. See listing. Rating: NNN
A shrug turns into a philosophy of life in The Corpse Bride, Niki Landau’s often striking take on a Jewish folk tale in which a young man, on his way to an arranged marriage in a shtetl a distance from his home, accidentally weds a dead woman and is pursued by the corpse.
It’s no Tim Burton tale, for the narrative is intrinsically grounded in Yiddish culture and the view that God takes care of his people in times of hardship.
Gumpcha, the only Jewish girl in the village of Nur, is to be wed with the help of a pair of matchmakers, her mother chooses the scholar Pinkel from the village of Sut, on the other side of the dark forest. He’s just the kind of man, argues the mother, who her daughter can control.
But the reluctant groom-to-be practices the wedding ceremony in the woods while travelling to Nur, unintentionally slipping the wedding ring on the finger of a dead woman, who pursues him for the rest of the play.
Under director Paul Lampert, the story unfolds in stylized movement rather than dialogue, with the addition of a fine klezmer-inspired score by John Gzowski and the occasional grunt, laugh and sigh from the committed actors. The show resembles a silent film, with the characters outfitted by set and costume designer Teresa Przybylski in black and white (with one important touch of red), lit by Kevin Lamotte, and titles projected on the back wall. Cameron Davis’s videos give further atmosphere to the action.
Much of the production is cleverly staged, with engaging work by the central figures, including Jennifer Balen as the stubborn Gumpcha, Andy Trithardt as the innocent, bookish Pinkel and Candice Woloshyn as the relentless corpse. The begrimed corpse has a surprising connection to another section of the narrative, which has to do with the lack of Jewish daughters in these European shtetls.
Other strong performances include those of Sarah Orenstein and William Vickers as Gumpcha’s parents, she determined to define her daughter’s future and he more concerned for Gumpcha’s happiness the expressive Evelyn Hart as a grieving mother who holds the community’s secret close to her chest Richard Greenblatt in a number of roles, including a ragpicker with a practical piece of philosophy (and the only speech in the play) and Colin Doyle as the village fool with a crush on Gumpcha.
Other elements haven’t yet come together. The Nur town “chorus” isn’t as well defined as it might be, and the several songs interpolated into the action (and well sung by Nathan Carroll) don’t capture the intended ironic, distanced commentary.
In this world where a veil is as useful for a wedding as for a funeral, the final memorable image looks both to the past and future. As the new couple, having lost their mutual reluctance to wed, leave Nur to find a life elsewhere, the rest of the townsfolk ignore the sound of the approaching Cossack horses. Thinking it the thunder of an approaching storm, the people rely yet again on the Messiah to take care of them.
But the umbrellas they open, filled with holes, suggest there won’t be much protection from the tragedies soon to come.
