Apr. 02, 2008 - Issue #650: Privatization
My Name is Rachel Corrie
My Name is Rachel Corrie has something to say, and says it well
Not that Edmonton’s stages necessarily should be filled with politics: an unending series of screeds on various social evils would grow as tiresome as a season full of drawing room comedies. Still, this city is a lot closer to the latter than the former. Consider the fact that, despite being in the middle of arguably the most robust economic boom in the world—a boom, it’s worth pointing out, based on a resource that not only drives global politics, but also manages to destroy the environment both locally and globally—we have seen, what, two mainstage plays in the last two years that have directly addressed its effects (System Theatre’s Progress and Procrastination and Azimuth’s Swallow, though arguably you could include God’s Favoured Child and Homeless, the latter of which opens this week at Azimuth, on this list as well).
That’s a pretty stunning level of disengagement with things that are literally happening just outside people’s doors, and it’s not as if those plays are fighting for space with dramas about the war in Iraq or AIDS in Africa. Perhaps it’s just a symptom of living in a province with a 41 per cent voter turnout rate—I had one artistic director tell me that people don’t do political plays because people don’t come to them, though I think that’s more an excuse than a reason—but it would be nice to see the people who are supposed to be reflecting the society they’re living in actually start doing that, at least beyond the realms of familial tension. (And who knows, maybe more people will care about this stuff if they see it outside of a newspaper once in a while.)
That’s a long way of saying that the willingness of Heather Inglis and Lora Brovold to take on a play this brazenly political is an admirable goal in and of itself. Having said that, as easy at is to get caught up in the politics of My Name is Rachel Corrie—the play isn’t quite a polemic, but it makes its position on the Israel-Palestine conflict obvious—the strength of the play is in its personality. Taken as it is from Corrie’s personal diaries, this is less a story about a particular conflict than it is about watching your innocence die around you—in this case, with dozens of Palestinians, too.
To that end, Brovold is incredible as Corrie. Though she comes on a bit strong at first, that’s quickly revealed to be the force of Corrie’s personality, a creative, self-consciously quirky (in a slightly annoying way, actually, and Brovold and Inglis deserve credit for letting her come across as such) suburban girl slowly emerging from her sheltered world. As everyday reality—writ large in the form of bombs, tanks and guns—begins to lay waste to Rachel’s carefully constructed persona, Brovold too sheds her skin, slowly revealing a girl-come-woman who is able to bear the world she sees by compressing her hope and optimism into a core of resolve. Brovold’s take on Corrie’s final speech is especially moving, at once disgusted by and hopeful for what’s going on around her.
That the production does all of this while still making a sharp, tangible point about a serious political issue only makes it more admirable; if we’re lucky, a few other theatre companies will use it as a template. V
Until Sat, Apr 12 (8 pm)
My Name is Rachel Corrie
Based on the writings of Rachel Corrie
adapted by Alan Rickman, Katherine Viner
Directed by Heather Inglis
Starring Lora Brovold
Catalyst Theatre (8529 Gateway BV), $16 - $21
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