Does gender influence your perception of a story? Does it matter whether the story is told by a man or a woman?
I could fast track to the part where I answer those questions with a reluctant “yes,” but let’s set the stage a little first.
New Westminster’s Patrick Street Productions is exploring questions of gender-based casting with its unique staging of the one-person musical Herringbone, running at the Anvil Centre until Oct. 6. The show’s solo role – or, really, 11 different roles played by one performer – is occupied by Luisa Jojic and Peter Jorgensen on alternating nights.
Having seen both of their official opening nights (Jojic on Thursday and Jorgensen on Friday), I went in ready to be convinced, either way, but leaning towards the belief that gender wouldn’t matter to me – I’d only judge the success of the production on how good the performance was, full stop.
I came out persuaded that, even when I don’t want to be, I’m heavily influenced by the gender of the performer.
First off, let it be said that the show is both spectacularly weird and weirdly spectacular.
The short, mostly spoiler-free version of playwright Tom Cone’s story is that it revolves around an eight-year-old boy, George, who becomes possessed by the malevolent spirit of a dead vaudeville performer, Lou (a.k.a. the Frog), who’s seeking revenge on his old partner. That’s the weird part.
Structured as it is - with non-stop singing, dancing, and rapid-fire dialogue and physical interaction between characters – it requires a performer capable of both enormous vocal and physical versatility and a huge measure of personal likeability to draw the audience in and keep them there, even when things get, well, weird. Both Jojic and Jorgensen deliver in spades. That’s the spectacular part.
Lovers of musical theatre will find plenty to revel in with the songs of composer Skip Kennon and lyricist Ellen Fitzhugh, from the opening One of Those Years to its reprise at the finale, with a whole lot of fun in between. (I dare you to leave the theatre without humming; I’ve been catching myself singing to myself since Friday.) It will be no surprise to most musical theatre lovers in the Lower Mainland that Jorgensen slayed it on all fronts. Jojic is less known as a musical performer but no less impressive in her execution of the demanding score and choreography.
Director Kayla Dunbar has done a brilliant job in bringing out the best in both performers.
But there’s no doubt the most fascinating part of the whole exercise was watching both performers, on back-to-back nights, and constantly assessing the similarities and differences between the two – particularly in light of the gender question.
Perhaps surprisingly, I found gender didn’t influence the believability of the characters at the most basic level. I was quite happy to accept Jorgensen as George’s mother and Jojic as his father; each embraced the challenge of playing the opposite sex without resorting to stereotype or cliché.
But my reaction to the unfolding storyline constantly reminded me that I was, indeed, succumbing to the influences of gender.
Sometimes those differences were obvious, such as in the early number How To Build A Man, whose lyrics sat far more ironically when sung by Jojic than they did when performed by Jorgensen. And the second act’s big sing, A Mother, felt almost like a different song – brilliantly executed by both performers but with an entirely different emotional resonance.
Other times, the gender difference snuck up on me.
By the end of Jojic’s performance, I found myself thinking of George’s mother as a more-or-less sympathetic character; by the end of Jorgensen’s, I was distinctly inclining towards the “less.” I left Jojic’s show relating to the character as a fellow mother – but, in Jorgensen’s show, I saw her faults in a far harsher light. And, no, I don’t think it’s because Jorgensen’s portrayal was inherently less sympathetic or because Jojic in any way whitewashed her flaws; my reaction stemmed more from an instinctive feeling of female solidarity that I lost with a male actor in the part.
Likewise with George himself. In Jojic’s characterization, I felt more acutely the boy’s fragility and powerlessness, particularly as the storyline took a dark turn – again, not because Jorgensen’s portrayal lacked nuance, but because the presence of a physically smaller, female performer brought with it a built-in sense of vulnerability.
George’s powerlessness becomes a key part of the story during the disturbing turn taken in the second act (no spoilers). While I felt unsettled in Jojic’s portrayal of the Frog and his quest to experience life again, it was in Jorgensen’s show that I found myself literally squirming in my seat and covering my eyes. Was Jojic’s portrayal any less powerful? No. But there was something about the presence of a male actor (even one as immensely likeable as Jorgensen) that emphasized just how predatory it is to possess another human being’s body against their will.
In the end, the show left me unsettled not just for its built-in dark weirdness, but because of what it forced me to ask about myself. Does my response to this show really mean I see women as more fragile and men as more powerful? Do I really believe women are more nurturing than men? Do I really see women as potential victims and men as potential predators?
Of course it’s not that simple. The extent to which my emotional, visceral reactions to the show were different on the two nights was undoubtedly also influenced by a host of factors unrelated to either performer’s gender.
But there was enough difference in my pure gut reaction to the characters and the storyline to leave me with the realization that gender does matter – even when it may not be in our conscious awareness.
So if you ever happen to say “Gender doesn’t matter to me, I’ll just choose the best person for the job,” please expect me to snort in response.
It does matter. You just maybe haven’t acknowledged it yet.
And meanwhile, get yourself down to the Anvil Centre to see Herringbone. Choose Jojic’s night, or Jorgensen’s night, or better yet both. The performance will knock your socks off both nights – and maybe, just maybe, it will leave you thinking about gender role stereotyping and internalized sexism and how it all influences your perception of the world.
Or maybe you’ll just go home singing and trying a little soft-shoe shuffle.
Either way, you win.
ONSTAGE
What: Herringbone, a one-person musical by Canadian playwright Tom Cone, with music by Skip Kennon and lyrics by Ellen Fitzhugh.
Who: Presented by Patrick Street Productions, starring Luisa Jojic and Peter Jorgensen in alternating performances.
Where: Anvil Centre Theatre, 777 Columbia St.
When: Running until Oct. 6. (No shows Sept. 30 and Oct. 1.)
Tickets: Tables $27, sides $32, centre $36 (plus service charges). Students/seniors: Tables $24, sides $27, centre $32 (plus service charges). Buy through www.ticketstonight.ca.
Information: www.anvilcentre.com/events/herringbone or www.patrickstreetproductions.com
