Review: I, Animal (Summerworks)

MacIvor's Beasts

by Jason Booker

Even an experienced pro, skilled at hitting the mark, sometimes misses the target. In one of his latest, Daniel MacIvor creates three solo shows that are loosely linked together by some unnecessary and obvious animal symbolism (a dog, a cat and a horse respectively), a similar closing line (more on that later) and a lack of anything happening. Instead of making these three people have some issue to decide or a conflict to resolve before the audience, MacIvor has bestowed them with inaction: a narration of the past events and only pieces of their backstories as they jump about in time and location without any clear reference points. 

Possibly this was a stream-of-consciousness exercise for the writer

Using direct address can be an effective method of telling a theatrical story – when there is an impetus to speak with the audience. Frequently in MacIvor’s work that drive has come from his characters acknowledging that they are in a theatre and speaking with a crowd or simply the awareness they are telling a story that requires characterization, direction and plot. In the case of I, Animal, all those elements seem to be missing and the three characters (a queer black nurse, a virginal photographer youth and a middle-aged heiress-cum-personal shopper divorcee) merely talk at the audience of their previous issues, never arriving at a decision or a true conclusion. Often, these actors seem to have even missed the rhythms of the distinctive and individual language of MacIvor or even taking an appropriate pause to shift subject matter, so that they imbue their characters with little personality and make one wonder if they are racing the clock to finish the script before the festival turns off the lights. At this breakneck but boring pace, none of the emotions of the text or revelations register with the actors nor the audience as the words come tumbling out into the constantly hazy theatre. Instead of fleshing out the characters with names or details of their backgrounds (for instance, one character keeps referring to things his lover “T would say” yet no details of who T was or specifics on the past tense are given), these people beat around the bush and often fail to address the information that seems essential, like how the heiress met her younger lover and what – if anything – he does for a living.

Possibly this was a stream-of-consciousness exercise for the writer, maybe it was a lost first draft, but whatever the excuse, it really should not have been performed. Definitely a weak entry to MacIvor’s oeuvre, unfortunately this production does little to salvage the script either. The cast seems strong but adds very little to the mix, especially when directed by Richie Wilcox to stand or pace downstage centre for most of their 25 minute chunks of the show.

As a long-time fan of the legendary Daniel MacIvor, I wanted to like this piece but it was almost laughable how amateur much of the dialogue and analogies felt from the audience and from design choices that seem faulty (a clawed piece of foil with 5 claw marks as the backdrop – what animal made those scratches? – or a wealthy woman claiming to be fashionable picking other people’s wardrobes looking dumpy in her 1980s getup) to that blasted cliché of a last line, which should be every playwright’s curtain line, allowing for some paraphrasing: “Oh look, there’s the moon.”

I, Animal is at SummerWorks