Frontmezzjunkies reports: A work-in-progress reading became an unforgettable homecoming for the creators, cast, and fans of “Slings & Arrows“
By Ross
The energy inside Stratford’s Festival Theatre was infectious and celebratory, arriving from a place of shared memory and an enduring connection. That love could be felt in the air before a single word was delivered from this unprecedented reading of “The Amateurs“. This was more than just a staged reading of a new television series. It was the long-awaited return of one of Canada’s most beloved creative families, gathering once again in the town that not-so-secretly inspired “Slings & Arrows” in the first place.
Effortlessly slipping back into the wonderfully pompous skin of director Darren Nichols, Don McKellar caused an eruption of delight as he delivered, with all of Nichols’ theatrical certainty and gloriously oversized opinions, the well-formed introduction of Susan Coyne, Bob Martin, and Mark McKinney, the writing team of both “Slings & Arrows” and “The Amateurs“. As the director who stormed the halls of the New Burbage Festival bringing a parody of German theatrical aesthetics to his productions of Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet, Darren declared that theatre was built upon “collective discomfort” before launching into one of those beautifully ridiculous speeches that somehow makes complete sense only because he is the one delivering it. It was wickedly funny, wonderfully sharp, and it instantly reconnected the room with a world everyone had dearly missed.
Just to be clear, this piece isn’t a review. It couldn’t be. “The Amateurs” is still very much a work in progress, and what Stratford audiences experienced a few nights ago was the first public reading of its opening two episodes. Being shared for our hungry and nostalgic ears and eyes, the reading quickly revealed why “The Amateurs” feels like such a natural companion to “Slings & Arrows” and the Festival Stage, the perfect setting. Set in 1952, it imagines the improbable dream that would eventually become the world-renowned New Burbage Shakespeare Festival. The very theatrical piece follows a determined, idealistic journalist named Tim as he attempts to convince a struggling Ontario town that theatre, not pigs, pork, or even tires, might just be the future. Along the way comes the wonderfully dry humour longtime fans know so well from Coyne, Martin, and McKinney, including deliciously witty observations about theatre competing with the arrival of “three channels” of British television, and suggestions that perhaps the only alternative to starting a cultural revolution is to give up and “go to Ireland and make jam.” An explosive alternative, one might add, and for all those who know and register the pork truck parallels, this is exactly the drive we were all hoping for.
What made the evening so magical and emotional, however, was watching so many familiar faces inhabit entirely new characters. Susan Coyne delighted as Fiona while Martha Burns effortlessly shifted between the wildly different characters of Anya, Shirley, and Clara. Stephen Ouimette brought a loving authority to Lord Crumb, McKinney gave Mayor Donald exactly the right mixture of desperation and comic self-importance, and Paul Gross seemed to wink affectionately toward his unforgettable Geoffrey Tennant while creating the high-browed Hugh, another idealist who believed, without a doubt, that Shakespeare could solve just about anything, especially if it can be thrust into our laps with love.
Seated alongside them, the Stratford Festival ensemble blended seamlessly into this well-known family. Jessica B. Hill, Luke Kirby, Shannon Taylor, and Maria Vacratsis all found delightful comic rhythms and resonance to their characters. Throughout the reading, Sean Arbuckle, Ijeoma Emesowum, Bethany Jillard, Aaron Krohn, Jeff Lillico, and André Sill constantly slipped in, delivering multiple characters, narration, and stage directions with effortless precision that somehow became part of the performance itself.
And then there was Mike Nadajewski. His Tim, clearly inspired by Stratford Festival founder Tom Patterson, anchored the story with infectious optimism, determination, and just enough honest stubbornness to make the impossible seem inevitable. Nadajewski captured the peculiar mixture of vision and naïveté, and maybe a few stretches of the truth, required to convince an entire town that Shakespeare performed beneath the stars might somehow be its future.
Yet for all the laughter generated by the script, the audience itself became one of the evening’s greatest performers. Midway through the reading, when the cast unexpectedly launched into “Cheer Up Hamlet,” the familiar song that opened the very first season of “Slings & Arrows“, something extraordinary happened. The audience instinctively joined in. Voices rose from every corner of the Festival Theatre as hundreds of people happily sang along, smiling from ear to ear. It was one of those theatrical moments no one could have planned, and everyone in the room will remember.
Then, just when it seemed the evening had already given everyone everything they could possibly want, the company closed out those final moments by erupting with the closing credits song that had become synonymous with “Slings & Arrows” across all three seasons. Once again, the audience sang. They clapped. They laughed. They refused to let the moment end. It no longer felt like spectators watching actors. It felt like old friends joyfully reunited after years apart, picking up with a sing-along that had somehow simply been paused.
When I wrote about the announcement of this reading earlier this summer, I described it as a homecoming. Sitting inside the Festival Theatre, surrounded by an audience who clearly loved these characters as deeply as I do, that description proved wonderfully accurate and heartfelt. “The Amateurs” may still be a work in progress, but for one unforgettable evening it made it wonderfully clear why “Slings & Arrows” continues to occupy such a cherished place in Canadian theatre and television history. I found myself thinking back to a moment standing quietly in the corner of a North York arts centre many years ago, watching these same artists film the Hamlet rehearsal reading from the very first season. I never imagined that years later I’d be sitting in Stratford’s Festival Theatre listening to them perform a reading of the story that came before it, surrounded by an audience whose applause, laughter, and singing echoed exactly what I was feeling inside.
