An uneasy exchange of vows

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This article was published 23/11/2019 (2517 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

If you’ve heard anything about the premise of The Wedding Party, you might expect a frothy bit of slapstick fun, as bright and fizzy as a glass of cheap champagne.

To be sure, the Prairie Theatre Exchange comedy by Canadian playwright Kristen Thomson bubbles with good spirits, but this clever comedy of manners also delves into a darker vein of discomfort.

We’re at the wedding of Sherry Boychuk and Jack Sealy-Skeete Jr., but the happy couple are never seen onstage. Instead, we’re welcomed into the drama of the reception (in some cases literally; at intermission, some patrons are invited to sit onstage as “guests” for the second half), where relations are fraying between bohemian mother of the bride Maddy (Nancy Sorel) and Jack Sr. (Todd Thomson), a wealthy businessman who is paying for the wedding.

Like last season’s Royal Manitoba Theatre Centre production The Cottage, The Wedding Party mines a fairly universal experience for laughs, the comedy sometimes emerging from familiarity rather than genuinely funny lines or circumstances.

The characters are archetypes of the big wedding: the inappropriately frank grandmother; the overserved mother; the high-strung wedding planner; the snooty dad who thinks his son is marrying beneath him; the estranged nephew hoping to use the occasion to mend fences.

And The Wedding Party amps up the soap-opera elements: Maddy is a former circus performer. Jack has an estranged identical twin, Tony (also played by Thomson, of course). Alice (Luisa Jojic), Jack Jr.’s best friend and “best man,” is in love with him.

But the cast — a mix of local and Vancouver actors, as this is a co-production with Vancouver’s Arts Club Theatre Company — elevate what could be standard sitcom-ish fare, delivering perfectly calibrated comedic performances, with the six actors playing 23 characters. They effortlessly swivel from main roles to cater waiters to supporting characters to in gender- and colourblind casting (the former often played for laughs, as when Cory Wojcik dons a curly grey wig and adopts the bosomy silhouette of gravel-voiced Edna, grandma of the bride, or when Andrea del Campo slouches in as Tony’s 18-year-old son, Tiger).

Sorel’s inebriated former aerialist has a real, if wine-soaked, heart; she and Thomson as Tony, the twin in his brother’s shadow, have great chemistry. Del Campo embraces the work’s improv roots and gets the night’s biggest laugh without uttering a word, while Jasmine Chen, stuck in the relatively straight role of the wedding planner, finally enjoys some swagger as a late-entering Latin lover. Whether she’s a magician’s assistant or a circus strongman, Jojic is the centre of attention, and Wojcik is, as always, a reliable comedic presence.

And this is more than merely madcap shirt-swapping and wig-trading. First, costume designer Christine Reimer’s creations allow for seamless, speedy transitions that look neither lumpy nor haphazardly assembled. Second, the actors embody their roles, no matter how ridiculous, with convincing aplomb that never leaves the audience in any doubt of who’s onstage (Thomson’s Jack and Tony are clearly delineated, even when they’re trying to imitate each other; Jojic as Alice looks similar to Jojic as Margaret, Jack Sr.’s second wife, but the latter’s hilarious, effusive energy is completely different).

In fact, some of the play’s self-aware jokes about the role-sharing take a minute to land, because you’ve genuinely forgotten the actor onstage is the same person who plays the offstage character she’s talking about.

Despite all the rapid exits and entrances, this is no door-slamming farce; in fact, there isn’t a physical door to be seen on Brian Perchaluk’s blandly handsome, realistic set. Director Ann Hodges keeps a tight rein over the smooth, if overlong, 2 1/2-hour production (with intermission), which never feels hectic or out-of-control.

Some of the comedy is hamstrung by restraint, with moments that could have been broader. The goings-on inspire a constant smile, but the lack of frequent belly laughs signals a work that’s sometimes more admirable than actively enjoyable. During the drunken, uncomfortable toasts, it feels like being at a real wedding — which, let’s be frank, is no one’s idea of a good time — and the bookending conceit, which attempts to inject some sentimental emotion, would work better if we were in any way invested in the actual marriage.

However, there are more than enough intoxicating moments, sight gags and truly inspired silliness to carry us through the rubber-chicken portions of the evening.

jill.wilson@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @dedaumier