There’s nothing bad you can say about yourself that your family hasn’t already said. Even for those who can’t relate to such misfortune, it’s impossible not to laugh along with those who do.
Meet Juicy (Peter Fernandes), someone who’s heart is as big as their hunger. Even in death, Pap (David Alan Anderson) has zero tolerance for his son’s sweet and soft demeanour.
And who else would be forced to organize a reception for his mother Tedra (Raven Douda)’s timely remarriage to his uncle Rev (also Anderson) but the family scapegoat?
James Ijames’ Fat Ham is a recontextualization of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, ferrying the tragedy over from Denmark to the American South — and now to the Berkeley Street Theatre for its Canadian premiere. Much like the 2022 Pulitzer Prize-winning play itself, the Canadian Stage production directed by Philip Akin is less concerned with honouring the classic, but continuing the conversation it starts.
And just like Hamlet, Juicy can’t seem to catch a break.
Pap visits Juicy as a ghost, not to repair their relationship, but to bestow Juicy with the filial duty to get back at his killer, Rev. Tedra and Rev just blew Juicy’s tuition money on the party they’re making him throw. There’s an unexpected tenderness between Juicy and his family friend Larry (Tawiah M’Carthy) that he’s not ready to unpack. And Cousin Tio (Tony Ofori)’s too busy watching porn to help Juicy decorate.
You know who these people are, even if you’ve never encountered Hamlet. Ming Wong’s fashion-forward and character-rich costume design ensures it. Wong uses personal style to breathe life into each character’s expressions of Blackness and gender. We don’t need to know Polonius to understand Rabby (Nehassaiu deGannes). With her wine-tinted Sunday dress and a church crown to match, the ultimate Southern auntie is a vividly fitting translation of Polonius’ role as court counsel.
But if there’s one thing you should know? Shit goes down at a cookout.
Embellished with deflated fanfare, set designer Brandon Kleiman’s backyard barbecue provides a carnivalesque underscore for everyone’s unspoken loneliness. Absurdity becomes the vehicle for honesty. Juicy’s karaoke rendition of Radiohead’s “Creep” (the ultimate black sheep anthem) is achingly earnest, but Opal (Virgilia Griffith)’s defiant backup dancing (or kicking) is what drives the song’s emotional urgency. In all its ridiculousness, this moment is a small act of autonomy the kids are afforded.
Fat Ham is self-aware of its nature as an adaptation, twisting the audience’s familiarity with both Hamlet and Blackness to disrupt their assumptions of who these characters are as people. Yet it’s in the production’s metatheatrical elements where the subversion falls apart.
Juicy is the primary interlocutor between Ijames’ world and Shakespeare’s. The Bard’s poetic language finds its mirror in Juicy’s precociousness — another thing that sets him apart from his family. But the shifts to soliloquy, marked by fantastical sound (Jacob Lin) and lighting (André du Toit), are too fast to follow.
Ijames uses humour to distract from heartbreak, but on stage, the heartbreak never gets a chance to fully breathe. Tension is relieved too easily, leading to muted character development and tonal inconsistencies. The production treats a major character death as a punchline instead of a turning point, resulting in an anti-climactic shift that permeates the rest of the show.
Sure, it may be unfeasible to follow Ijames’ stage directions and include two life-size pig carcasses, but in forfeiting such imagery, we lose the visceral expressiveness the story requires. And with all the actors around the same age, it feels like we’re watching a group of characters rather than a family. There’s not enough of a contrast between the youngsters and the grown-ups to really evoke the powerlessness a child feels from their parents’ neglect.
Fernandes’ Juicy has a very tough exterior — a compelling juxtaposition to the softness Juicy is notorious for, as if Juicy is tormented by who he really is. But in choosing to put on a tough front (and succeeding at it), the production undermines Juicy’s commitment to embracing his sensitive side. His resilience comes across more as a guarantee than as an achievement.
Hamlet’s themes of loss and legacy are now uniquely explored through Black masculinity, and in turn, the perceived threat of faggotry and femininity. Although short-lived, the production’s big finish marks a triumphant release from the shame and fear that haunt the characters.
Canadian Stage’s Fat Ham finds great momentum as a comedy — occasionally forgetting when and where to slow down. But just like Juicy, the show hits its stride when marching to the beat of its own drum.
Fat Ham runs at the Berkeley Street Theatre until March 16. Tickets are available here.
Intermission reviews are independent and unrelated to Intermission’s partnered content. Learn more about Intermission’s partnership model here.
WRITTEN BY
Stephanie Fung
Stephanie Fung (they/she) is an interdisciplinary performance artist and arts worker from Tkaronto/Toronto who is fascinated by the concept of convention and how we contest culture. A performer, writer, director, and theatre critic — they are drawn to themes of monstrosity, consumption, exposure, and grief. They are a member of the 2023 cohort of the IBPOC Critics Lab, supported by Intermission Magazine and the Stratford Festival.
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