The Seven Lives of Louis Riel
Had things shaken out differently, Louis Riel could’ve been the Canadian John Wayne. In a fairer world, he should have spent most of the 20th century plastered across lunchboxes, t-shirts and movie posters. His personal biography seems expressly written for a biopic or spaghetti Western: he led two Métis resistances against the Canadian government, was consequently tried and hanged for treason, and spent some time in between in exile at a mental asylum.
Despite the impressive, kinda-bonkers biography, Riel has instead mostly languished in Canadian history textbooks – a genre uniquely suited to sucking all cultural interest out of even the most amazing stories. That is, of course, until now.
Enter Fringe icon Ryan Gladstone, who shows us Louis Riel – heretofore obscure historical figure – re-imagined as seven pop culture archetypes: outlaw, murderer, madman, hero, traitor, prophet, and legend. Gladstone’s impressions run the gamut of genres – taking the audience from hardboiled film noir, to comic book saga, to Harrison Ford epic – with a deftness that belies how hard this must be to pull off. Adding to the show’s impressiveness: he plays all parts by himself, supported only by lighting cues, an antique trunk, and a handful of dollar store props. He brings a loose, comic energy to the role, which makes the show a pleasure to watch. The overall effect is of seeing your smartest, goofiest friend do impressions in his living room – accompanied, of course, by a group of about fifty other people.
But although Gladstone is plenty friendly, the show is not necessarily for the uninitiated. He makes repeated reference to semi-obscure bits of Canadian history, which my fellow audience members – bafflingly – all seemed to understand. Still, it cannot be considered a flaw when a show compels you to go home, break out your laptop, and Google – of all things – “nineteenth century Manitoba politics.”
The New Conformity
“What does it mean to conform?”
“How can we reconcile societal pressures with our unique personalities?”
“Dude, how do I avoid becoming, like, The Man?”
These are all questions posed by many an obnoxious undergrad in many a smoky dorm room. However, most of these baby Nietzsches don’t turn to their friends and say: what if we explored these questions, but through juggling?
This is how I like to imagine the creative process that went into The New Conformity. And although I wish I could impose a moratorium on dudes telling me their feelings about society, I’m more than happy to listen as long as they use circus arts as a medium. Cause & Effect Circus has here built a fresh, interesting show around some long-tired questions; integrating martial arts, clown, and juggling into a tightly organized piece of physical theatre.
The show opens on three men, dressed in identical grey suits and juggling in tandem. Their synchronicity is impressive; but soon, one of them becomes fed up, and starts pulling out some moves of his own. The result is an hour-long, vaudevillian saga, in which his fellow jugglers try – and fail – to bring him back in line. Not plot-heavy stuff by any means, but it’s a joy to watch the three actors pull off some impossible-seeming tricks with a minimum of technical assistance.
Although it’s impossible to convey the power of the performance without being there to see it, I leave you with one more piece of praise. On a rainy Saturday at two p.m., in the unfriendliest city in the country, a room full of Vancouverites gave the three a standing ovation. Indeed, the New Conformity won out against brunch – and with an endorsement like that, it has to be good.