Theatre Review by Christina Manolescu
Directed by Alexandra West, the play is performed with energy, confidence and flair. We are treated by Isabella Geddes to a mini-miracle of stage décor—an air of magnificence conjured out of little or nothing. Arranged in intriguing layers in front of a back-lit ‘shadow box,’ stunning impact is created from an arrangement of huge knotted cords, painted panels, a few selected props.
The mediaeval costumery by Noémi Poulin is fanciful, decorous and sometimes absurdist, matching the layers of dark-humour surrounding the characters, who are otherwise cloaked in a hypnotic mysterium of ecclesiastical chants.
As the plot literally thickens, historical truth is retained or jettisoned so as to liberate space for an astonishing interplay of themes and ideas.
Well, to name just a few: the ethnic cleansing of pagan gods by the powerful Christian Church; male-female rivalry for dominance and power; the nature of mission and sacrifice, miracles and magic; self-destruction versus the stubborn continuance of the human race.
Parallel stories dovetail into stories within stories; layers unfold like onionskin. The script, in its quest to connect the mysterious dots, leads us on a journey through Time, re-visiting the profound and the universal in human experience—and it manages to do so in a style which is often bawdy, irreverent, contemporary in tone.
Gilles de Rais (John Hastings) weaves a smooth and confident interface over a secret past. Jessica B. Hill inhabits her role as Jehanne with raw innocent wonder, at times crippled by floundering faith, inevitably driven by fatalistic resolve.
In the case of Jehanne’s supernaturally induced or self-appointed mission, the question arises: is it divine inspiration, obsession, madness, demonic possession? You be the judge. Jehanne’s complex ‘Personality Subconscious’ manifests in the guise of three distinct ‘Voices,’ played respectively by Jillian Larkin, Krystina Bisante and Patricia Manessy.
Charles, the Dauphin (Christian Colman) plays out his self-indulgent, undeserving role for which all this patriotic fervour is being expended. Jillian Larkin presents no less than 8 disparate dramatis personae, among them Jehanne’s metaphysical ‘male’ Voice, bereft mother, whore and fool.
From start to finish, ambivalence and ambiguity are the daily fare. Witness the tradition of cross-dressing, in which male and female swap roles through expediency or through choice. Jehanne and her unlikely companion-in-arms, Gilles de Rais both give outstanding performances. Ditto for the three ‘Voices,’ who are forbidding manifestations of the female power principle under siege. A lot of head-butting between the sexes goes on in this play; a rousing display of one-upmanship. As in life, the contest rages with no clear winner in sight. At her risk, Jehanne learns to play the game on men’s terms, if that’s what it takes to get the job (her mission) done, morphing into an arrogant saintly despot along the way.
This metaphysical romp and roadmap for human travelers is beset with twists and turns and ambivalent signposts. Be warned: we suspend all disbelief before entering into the bizarre logic of Clark’s dramatic narrative. Within the vaudevillian tone of the performance, which swings on a dime from grave to comic, essential clues are dropped, revelations are gradually made, the conundrum begins to clear, the mental lights go on and—eureka—somehow it all hangs together and works magically to create a rousing impact at the finale. Two decades later, ‘Jehanne and the Witches’ is still a powerful dramatic experience, indeed.