In June, at my first Company of Fools rehearsal, I was enjoying a tour of all the bright and colourful props, designed by Andrea Steinwand, when I heard a loud moan coming from the corner of the room. I turned to find a tall man lying on the floor, his torso twisted, making strange, guttural sounds. After a moment I realized it was Mark Kreder (who plays Antipholus of Ephesus, among other characters) warming up for the day ahead. Clearly I hadn’t spent time with actors in a while.
But the familiarity came back quickly as I penned this two-part series. Spending time behind the scenes with the cast and crew of The Comedy of Errors has led to some interesting insights about the work of these artists, and even more so about the role of a critic. In the first piece, I wrote about joining a Company of Fools as an embedded critic for their Super Mario-themed Comedy of Errors. I recounted how I navigated my role as both observer and participant. I also wrote about the creative team’s use of Mario-world aesthetics to help clarify Shakespeare’s tangled tale.
Entering the Mushroom Kingdom
A few weeks later, I got to see that world in action. As I walked into Patterson Creek Park, I could see the large wooden flat of a Mario-themed Toad House in the distance. The show I was going to see would be the 12th performance of the company’s touring run. Mark was on the grass nearby, stretching on a yoga mat. He smiled and took out his AirPods to say hi. “Are you always this early?” I asked him. “That’s usually the case,” he said.
I didn’t realize it was their second show in a two-show day, until more cast members started arriving from their break and filled me in on how they were feeling. Maryse Fernandes (Luciana, Angelo, and others) seemed surprised I chose this particular performance. The company had experienced very sticky weather for their first go at it that day. They shared that the energy from the first audience had felt low. Erin Eldershaw (Dromio of Syracuse) told me there was a large group of children who weren’t as engaged as most previous kids, which in her view may have drained the cast’s energy.
I too wondered if this was going to be the most appropriate performance for me to watch and write about, if the actors weren’t necessarily feeling it. When I mentioned this to Laura Del Papa, playing Dromio of Ephesus, she said she was confident it’d be fine. It was cooler now — in fact, it was the best weather they’d had so far.
As the audience started turning up for this second show, I asked a few people about their experiences with the Fools. One group had been living in Ottawa for years but were first-time patrons; clearly they became fans, as after the performance they were eager to get their photos taken with the cast.
In front of these spectators, the actors did their fight call, walking through a tricky bit of physicality. As it was the day’s second show, this went by quickly, and Mark took advantage of the extra time to do vocal exercises on his own. It was interesting to watch the early audience members observe what’s typically reserved for the privacy of a dressing room, or the stage before the house doors open. I wondered if anyone in the crowd was, like me, briefly alarmed by the lip trills and vocal sirens.
I joined the audience on the grass in front of the stage. As with all previous Fools shows I’d seen, there were strings of silk flowers on the ground, marking the edges of the seating area. Suddenly, in a burst of energy, Kai Ileleji (production assistant and assistant stage manager), jumped onto the stage to start a pre-show speech.
He laid out a ground rule concerning the flowers: Keep your hands and feet inside them, or you may get injured by a running actor. And he explained the pricing: Choose how much you’re comfortable paying, and throw it in the hats circulated by the actors after the show.
Power-ups and glitches
The play opens with Laura as Dromio of Ephesus leading the physical overture I described in my first piece. Minutes before, while the cast was getting their things in order backstage, Laura had been joking about her Dromio being stripped of his autonomy as the run progressed. It was interesting to hear her speak to the gradual evolution of character dynamics — small, in-the-moment decisions from the other actors were diminishing her Dromio’s status the more they played. During the performance, I noticed that Laura had become freer with Dromio’s buffoonery than I’d seen before, using cues from the others to draw a more defined character, one more downtrodden by constant dismissals.
Delightful moments abound. Mark, as Antipholus of Ephesus, takes Laura’s Dromio mushroom hat and holds on to it as she scurries away to grab a feathery coat and become the Courtesan. An invisible Dromio remains under the hat, still in Mark’s hand, with characters speaking in that direction as if he’s there. This convention happens occasionally in the middle of the show, and a lot more near the end: a smart move from director Patrick Gauthier, as it gives us space to understand and then become complicit in the bit. The actors play it knowingly, with a touch of side-eye suggesting they’re aware of their own foolery.
I was happy to be treated to a few little mishaps, which actually added to the charm of the show. Drew Moore (Antipholus of Syracuse, and others) was playing an officer, wearing a Shy Guy costume over his regular Antipholus outfit. The Shy Guy mask slipped off, accidentally revealing the recognizable Antipholus of Syracuse underneath, and he quickly covered his face with his hands, sparking a ripple of laughter.
For Maryse, a quick change from Luciana to Angelo resulted in pink tulle protruding from under Angelo’s fancy coat, and they improvised a few asides (along the lines of “Well, this is going well”) when fumbling with props.
Clearly the company had grown more comfortable with the material at this point in the game, and remained focused and adaptable to the small hitches that came their way. Having been to rehearsals, I could situate this performance within a larger process, and therefore had a deeper appreciation for the actors’ quick thinking and small, compelling adjustments. But other audience members enjoyed this too: after the performance, I heard a few of them discuss the fun of seeing the actors handle slip-ups in the moment.
Next level: A stronger critical culture for Ottawa
Mark Fisher, in his book How to Write About Theatre, quotes theatre critic Michael Billington reflecting on the experiencing of directing a one-act play: “I shall resume my aisle-squatting a bit more aware of the collaborative process of theatre; aware that things we, as critics, so confidently ascribe to the director, are often the result of the spontaneous combustion of rehearsal.” While I wasn’t a director in this case, my embedding led to similar learnings.
In the first readthrough I attended, in Kate and Patrick’s living room, I had observed the actors make bold, amusing choices. Similarly, in later rehearsals, fun discoveries altered how the scenes played out. While much had changed from those rehearsals to this performance, I could still see hints of those initial instincts. Everyone on the team planted interesting seeds early on, and through collaborative effort, those seeds grew into unique performances.
Having access to the arc of the show’s creation as an embedded critic has allowed me to write about the art form’s innate fluidity. A critic watching one show in a run is subject to that performance’s specificity, such as environmental interferences and the actors’ resulting improvisations. Spending time embedded within the company gave me a more complete view — one I could then pass on to the general public. As Fisher writes about embedded criticism, “getting hands-on experience… can make you ‘a bit more aware,’ a little more sensitive to the way choices are made and executed, and a touch more alert to the various skills at play.”
I’m grateful for Kate initiating this process, as I think it has interesting implications for the future of Ottawa theatre criticism. When there’s a lack of thoughtful conversation around art, artists can end up playing it safe, and default to making work that avoids interesting, creative risks. That’s the role of criticism: it isn’t about tearing things down, but about engaging with the work in a way that sparks ideas and pushes everyone forward. In Ottawa, where professional criticism has been pretty limited in recent years, it’s especially valuable when artists and leaders like Kate create space for that kind of dialogue. I could see how further experimentation with embedded criticism could help keep the cultural scene alive and evolving.
While I hope these two articles prompt a larger conversation about criticism in Ottawa and beyond, I also hope it encourages at least a few people to brave the heat and enjoy The Comedy of Errors, playing in Ottawa parks until mid-August.
The Comedy of Errors runs in Ottawa until August 16. More information is available here.
A Company of Fools paid Luke Brown for his time working as an embedded critic; it also paid a small editorial fee to Intermission.
WRITTEN BY
Luke Brown
Luke (he/him) is a theatre artist and arts administrator based in Ottawa. After completing a master’s thesis exploring the intersection of theatre and queer theory, Luke has turned his academic curiosity into a vibrant career in arts philanthropy, championing the performing arts at the National Arts Centre Foundation as a philanthropy specialist. His creative work in Ottawa includes writing and directing Honey Dew Me at the undercurrents festival (2020) and Fresh Meat (2017), as well as directing the first production of Even Gilchrist’s Re:Construct at Ottawa Fringe (2018). Luke serves on the board of directors for the Canadian Improv Games.
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