Luc Tellier, Chariz Faulmino, Alexander Ariate, Hal Wesley Rogers in The Wizard of Oz, Citadel Theatre. Phoro by Nanc Price
By Liz Nicholls, .ca
As cinematic icons go, The Wizard of Oz, the great musical fantasy film of 1939, occupies a pop culture niche of its own — the plucky prairie girl with the little dog and the ultimate dream escape song, her signature dance with three friends down the yellow brick road, their adventures en route to the Emerald City to see the ultimate problem-solver, the “great and powerful Oz.”
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Amongst all the stage adaptations out there, the big, full-bodied production directed by Thom Allison at the Citadel — in all its complicated theatrical demands (magical special effects, Munchkins, a battalion of Winkies, a haunted forest, a crystal ball, flying witches both good and bad, air-born monkeys) — is the version created by John Kane for the Royal Shakespeare Company in 1987. You’d say it’s a case of ‘go big or go home’ only at the risk of invoking one of The Wizard of Oz’s most indelible catchphrases “there’s no place like home.” And when you’re a kid who’s fed up with home, down on a hard-scrabble Kansas farm (“you want fun, join a circus”) and dreaming of a land over the rainbow where “troubles melt like lemon drops” … well, that would be the plot you all already know.
Anyhow, the big advantage of the version the Citadel has chosen is the original script, with its share of playful satirical sass, and the musical soundtrack, the original Harold Arlen/ E.Y. Yarburg songs from the movie.
Maybe this is the lesson of live theatre, even the big-budget big-stage kind, but this production’s most memorable moments of magic aren’t any of the high- (and medium-high) tech scenes or scene changes. Nope. They happen between Dorothy Gale (Chariz Faulmino), the Scarecrow (Luc Tellier) who’s short a brain, the Tinman (Hal Wesley Rogers) who doesn’t have a heart, and the Lion (Alexander Ariate) who has a crucial courage shortage.
Luc Tellier, Alexander Ariate, Chariz Faulmino, Hal Wesley Rogers in The Wizard of Oz, Citadel Theatre. Photo by Nanc Price
Four excellent performances from these actors, as the endearing signature characters, choreographed by the ever-inventive Julio Fuentes. They’re led by Faulmino, a petite firecracker who creates a feisty innocent to root for. She’s fashioned her big supple voice into a vintage sound that isn’t Judy Garland but conjures the ‘30s in an expressive way. Tellier, an actor with physical pizzaz and a fine voice, makes of the Scarecrow’s new-found freedom to roam a veritable ballet of unhinged limbs. And so, in his metallic stiff-jointed way, does Rogers as the “galvanized man” (as the Wizard puts it), in Fuentes’s comic choreography. Ariate is droll as the rueful Lion who isn’t much of a singer in truth, but yearns to roar as if he meant it, which is just right. And the great song If I Only Had A Brain (a Heart, the Nerve) reworked by each of them, with witty Harburg rhymes, is a highlight of the evening. “I could show my prowess, be a lion not a mou-ess/ If I only had the nerve./ I’m afraid there’s no deny-in I’m just a dandelion/ A fate I don’t deserve….”
Nadine Whiteman as the Wicked Witch of the West, The Wizard of Oz, Citadel Theatre. Photo by Nanc Price.
And John Ullyatt as the Wizard, who gets found out as a fraud in the course of Oz-ian events, is terrific, too. Nadine Whiteman makes a lip-smacking meal of glam villainy as the vivid Wicked Witch of the West.
The seven-piece band led by Steven Greenfield steps up in lively fashion. The voices of the cast are variable. But the Munchkin ensemble of 10 youthful performers, led by Kristin Johnston as the Mayor of Munchkinland, are particularly impressive both as singers and dancers (which bodes exceedingly well for next season’s Annie). And their rousing anthem Ding Dong! The Witch Is Dead is something to cheer about, and hum on the way home.
Elsewhere, though, the stagecraft is a bit dull. The video and projections (Laura Warren) are serviceable, though the sliding ‘wood’ panels that open and close, barn door-style, to receive them aren’t terribly atmospheric in Brando Kleiman’s design. The Emerald City is no exotic destination, either in long-shot or close-up. The impact of the big storm at the outset (surely the most famous tornado in cinematic history) is diluted by being spread out randomly over the breadth of the big wide Shoctor stage.
The Munchkins, The Wizard of Oz, Citadel Theatre. Photo by Nanc Price.
The most visual impact? Patrick Beagan’s lighting and the glorious array of Deanna Finnman’s costumes, an unending riotous pageant of imaginative design that never stops being fun to watch. (You’ll love the Munchkin fashion statement with sleeves that might double as wings or propellors).
You can blame the adaptation for this, but you begin to feel the length (in real time it’s a brisk two hours plus intermission) of the show in Act II. I put it down to the adaptation’s inclusion of a couple of song-and-dance production numbers that seem like dramatic clutter, at least in the execution in Allison’s production — The Jitterbug, for one, Poppies and the dance of the snowflakes for another. The costumes are ingenious, but you long for a round of repartee between Dorothy and friends.
My cavils put me in the minority here though, I think, since the Saturday night full-house roared its appreciation, and gave the show a standing ovation. And it’s an evening that rewards patience by returning us to an evergreen story, and songs, you’ve known forever, about knowing your own strengths, valuing your friends, understanding what home means. And that’s a lot to enjoy.
REVIEW
The Wizard of Oz
Theatre: Citadel
Written by: John Kane for the Royal Shakespeare Company from the classic motion picture adaptation of the novel by L. Frank Baum
Directed by: Thom Allison
Starring: Chariz Faulmino, Aexander Ariate, Luc Tellier, Hal Wesley Rogers, John Ullyatt, Nadien Chu, Nadine Whiteman, Koko, Scooby, Tom Edwards, Jill Agopsowicz, Mhairi Berg, Corben Kushneryk, Alison MacDonald, Kristin Johnston, Jesse Drwiega
Running: through April 12
Tickets: citadeltheatre.com, 780-425-1820
