The Grand Theatre’s “The Play That Goes Wrong”: Still Hilariously Right
The Ontario Theatre Review: Grand Theatre London’s The Play That Goes Wrong
It’s a rare and joyful kind of déjà vu to see a show you’ve followed from its raucous big pratfall beginnings in London’s West End, through its Broadway transfer, to now finding new chaotic life at the Grand Theatre in London, Ontario. The Play That Goes Wrong, hilariously created by Mischief Theatre’s Henry Lewis, Jonathan Sayer, and Henry Shields, is one of those unstoppable comic juggernauts that thrives on continuous calamity. In the Grand’s new production, directed with flair and gleeful rambunctiousness by Dennis Garnhum (Grand’s Elf), the resulting pandemonia remains delightfully the same — a glorious, laugh-a-minute catastrophe that delivers exactly what its title promises, and then some.
“I’ve arrived,” says the blond bouffanted director, in her proud opening remarks. Played to perfection by Daniela Vlaskalic (Magnus’s Disgraced), Krista (who directs the play within the play, and also plays ‘Inspector Carter’), kicks things off with a hilariously misplaced sense of grandeur. Realizing too late that this “London” isn’t the one she expected, even though it also sits on the Thames River. It’s a different one, a Canadian one, not the British one, and she delivers her epic confusion with the snide poise of someone utterly lost in both geography and self-awareness. And her introduction works its mischiefious magic on us all, crafting together a manic conceit that remains as brilliant and funny as ever.
For those unacquainted, we are presently presented with the hapless Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society, who are attempting, maybe beyond their limited range of skills and expertise, to stage a 1920s-style whodunit called (with brilliant echoed tension in the delivery) “Murder at Haversham Manor”. What follows soon after the curtain rises, and falls, and rises again is a two-hour, two-act spiral into theatrical madness and mayhem, where the dead rise up (and not in a ghoulishly kind of way), doors refuse to open, props disappear, lines are missed or looped endlessly, actors are knocked unconscious, and the set itself seems determined to self-destruct time and time again.
At the Grand, this chaos is hilariously revitalized with just enough local charm and fresh energy to make it feel both timeless and brand new. You can sense the audience’s breathless anticipation as the murderous adventure gets underway, knowing things are about to go terribly wrong, and boy, do they, ever so spectacularly.
Much like the original Mischief Theatre production, the Grand’s version succeeds in spades, mainly because it plays the farce with complete sincerity. The actors don’t mug or wink; they commit fully to the absurd, especially the delicious and adorable Andrew MacDonald-Smith (Citadel’s Crazy for You) plays eager Max, the actor who plays ‘Cecil Haversham’ as well as groundsman ‘Arthur’. Max can barely contain himself when the applause comes for his overacting schtick, smiling and bowing as if he just delivered something more brilliant than he could ever imagine. And it’s completely joyous and beautifully funny, as the comedy lives, canoe-rows, and blossoms in that deadpan seriousness and eagerness to please.
The unshakable belief that “the show must go on” is at its core, even when the walls are literally collapsing around them. Vlaskalic, who plays actor/director Krista, who plays that pompous ‘Inspector Carter’, keeps the evening anchored, their growing exasperation perfectly calibrated. Alexander Ariate (Citadel’s Clue), who plays Jonathan (who plays Charles Haversham), Vanessa Leticia Jetté (Theatre Calgary’s Little Women), who plays Sandra (who plays ‘Florence Colleymoore’), Jawon Mapp (Shaw’s Brigadoon), who plays Robert (who plays ‘Thomas Colleymoore’), and John Ullyatt (Grand’s Great Expectations), who plays Dennis (who plays butler ‘Perkins’) delivering highly toxic shots over and over again, find wonderful rhythms as the murderous plots are untangled and demolished all around them. The show’s reluctant stagehands, played adoringly by Izad Etemadi (Citadel’s Frozen) and Emily Meadows (RMTC’s Into the Woods), alongside Bernardo Pacheco (Citadel’s Network), who plays Trevor, the Cornley Polytechnic’s lighting and sound operator, and Honey Pham (Red Snow’s Carried By The River), who plays Annie, Cornley’s stage manager (but who also sometimes plays ‘Florence Colleymoore’ whether Sandra likes it or not) earn some of the night’s biggest laughs through their expert Anne Murray timing alone. Although a grandfather clock almost steals the show from them all while casually reclining centerstage.
If there’s any fault to be found in this Grand version, it’s simply one of pace. Farce thrives on speed, and a few of the transitions and reaction pauses felt a touch too leisurely to keep the chaos at its sharpest. The gags land best when breathless and tumbling over one another, leaving both cast and audience slightly overwhelmed, out-of-breathe, and giddy. I suspect that as the run continues, and the ensemble grows more confident in the rhythm of disaster, that extra beat of tightness will come naturally to everyone’s benefit. Even so, the comic precision on display, especially in the physical choreography and stunt work, is remarkably impressive.
Technically, the production is catastrophically superb. The set (adapted by Beyata Hackborn from Nigel Hook’s original Tony Award-winning design) remains the real star, an ingenious collapsing construction that is itself a character in the murder mystery melodrama. The costumes by Joseph Abetria, lighting by Kimberly Purtell, and sound design by Dave Pierce and Donovan Siedle all contribute to the wonderfully crafted escalating chaos, proving that even the smallest technical “mistake” requires masterful planning and control. The Grand’s production team deserves credit for capturing both the British formality, humour, and the unhinged glee that make the show so irresistible. You can practically hear the audience gasp with each new disaster — and then laugh even harder as it all inevitably eventually collapses.
The Play That Goes Wrong remains a hilariously smart and sharp ode to live theatre itself: fragile, unpredictable, and miraculous even in failure, and the Grand Theatre’s production captures that spirit with warmth and mischief. Watching it again, many years after London and Broadway, one can’t help but revel in the exhilaration of it all, sitting in a room full of strangers, laughing uncontrollably as everything falls apart, yet delightfully aware that everyone onstage is working impossibly hard to make it all go so right — and so wonderfully wrong, all at the same deadpan moment.
By Ross, front mezz junkies, a theatre review blog
