VIEW Magazine
November 2005
by Robin Pittis

Waterdown Village Theatre has a history of courageous
play selection. A brief glance at their past playbill
discloses an over 30–year willingness to tackle the most
challenging and powerful theatrical works there are—
Antigone, The Miracle Worker, One Flew Over the
Cuckoo’s Nest and The Tempest, to name a few. It would
be misleading to say that every show attempted was an
unqualified success. The Arabian Nights is a tough one
to call.
It’s hard to imagine anyone living who hasn’t been
touched in some way by the story of the 1,001 Nights. If
you’ve heard the name Aladdin, for instance, or Ali
Baba, then yes, your subconscious is renting space to a
tradition that spans centuries and began in ancient Iraq.
Legend has it a woman named Scheherazade told
stories and otherwise entertained a tyrannous King
(Shahryar) every night for almost three years, and under
constant threat of execution, no less. This premise ties
together the package we call the Arabian Nights.
Mary Zimmerman’s script is a masterful adaptation,
collation and re–telling of several of the stories from that
lexicon, with music. If you know Zimmerman—a Tony
award–winning director, writer and librettist, whose past
collaborations include work with Philip Glass on the
Opera Galileo Galilei—you won’t be surprised that the
script is as wonderful as it is. Thick with poetry, wit, and
humanity, it is also topical, sensuous and philosophical.
It is rich in nuance and layer upon layer of story within
story. Zimmerman grapples elegantly with the insoluble
problems of sexual and secular politics in the East and
West simultaneously, balancing bawdiness with
education with unprecedented style. There is also a
comforting sense of undogmatic moral certitude about
this text that comes from folk tradition of its source
material. It has a sense of human values that transcends the modern mania for certainty, and the post–modern
struggle with ambiguity. Ultimately, it is a tribute to the
richness of a venerable culture currently in crisis.
Can a little community theatre in Flamborough meet the
demands of a show that calls for intricate choral speech,
specific ethnic choreography, and innovative staging?
Director Lisbie Rae consistently manages to bring
together a wealth of willing and talented individuals, and
guide them well to a worthy goal. In this case a cast of
15, plus musicians, designers et al, bravely tackle Rae’s
ambitious undertaking.
It isn’t perfect. The intricacies of multi–layered narrative
might, on occasion, be challenging for the audience.
When large numbers of people speak at once on stage,
the slightest lapse of precision can cause a loss of
dramatic effect. Nea Reid, as Scheherazade, carries a
lot of that large burden. The set, a handsome and
evocative collection of tile work, silk drapery, and
lanterns, seems to be trying to do too much at once. After
an evening of theatrical treasures, a simpler curtain call
might have left the well–wrung audience space to show
their appreciation. The show couldn’t be done without
some belly dance, and the whole cast (men included)
give it a go, but the artform is done the most justice by
those whose bodies have had time to internalize the
technique. Choreographer Janice Lee and Bernette
Korakianitis show us moments of what this art can be.
On balance, however, the humanity and imperfections
of the piece are carried by the inspiration of
Zimmerman’s text, and audiences will be treated to
many moments of sheer delight. The costumes sparkle
and reveal. The music is fascinating, and expertly
performed without losing a sense of play. The cast are
enthusiastic, gracious and engaging. It’s almost criminal
to single out a performer from a show that lives by team ethic,
but Jennifer Graham’s “Sympathy the Learned”
embodied the grace, humility, intelligence and charisma
that were so appealing about this show. Rae’s staging is
as exhaustively innovative and lyrically beautiful as the
piece she has chosen. This is an artistic team pushing
their threshold, which never fails to engage. If this isn’t
Waterdown’s best production ever, it is certainly one of
the most memorable.
The real grace of this show, however, lies in its
elegantly understated and unpartisan memorial to the
ongoing human disaster in Iraq. Rant me if I’m wrong,
but world events seem to have little effect on local
theatre, and it was satisfying to see the war addressed
without comprising the theatre’s first goal—
entertainment.