BATS Theatre
August 21-September 1 | Reviewed by Melody Nixon

The Venetian Bride opens beautifully; atmospheric live piano combines with excellently paced entrances. In the interactions of Richard (Robert Tripe) and Alice (Helen Moulder) there is a theatrical sensitivity which suggests deep understanding of space and tone. Unfortunately, this sensitivity does not always last throughout a play rich with powerful, clever storytelling but at times lacking theatrically, without a cohesive rhythm or fluidity and meter in its scene changes. And while the point of the parable-like centre story is a poignant and valuable one, it is not readily conveyed to the audience.

The play is an adaptation of a Maurice Shadbolt short story, and that author’s mastery of craft is very much apparent. The overarching tale is a multi-layered look at the nature of ‘real love,’ and the positioning of today’s romantic relationships with relationships of the early to mid-twentieth century to discover what it is that prevents us from truly loving and being loved. The final message seems to be that our selfish or idealised pursuits of what we believe will fulfill us can blind us to the beauty and strength of what is ‘right in front of us;’ and thus we can fail to understand or appreciate what will truly make us happy.

While this is one message of many the play is exploring, it is the message central to the final realisations of protagonist Richard. A modern man with two failed marriages, Richard is recounted a parable by his wise Great Aunt Alice. This parable explores the nature of “bona fide” love and throughout the narration Richard asks Alice: “Why are you telling me this? What am I supposed to be learning?” Thirty years later, and long since Alice has passed away, Richard understands what it was she was trying to impart; and this realisation is juxtaposed against the quietly tragic and ironically melancholic image of Rodin’s The Kiss; a symbol of undying love and “forever”.

Although in the penultimate scene Richard states: “So that is what [Alice] was telling me,” the way the central message relates to the story requires some probing, and the play risks coming across as an open-ended exploration rather than the parable-like tale Shadbolt intended. This is due in part to its translation on to stage; and the way in which moments of innuendo, double-meaning and insight come across as a little obscure, rather than profound or affecting. For example, in the scene where Richard visits Rose Lightfoot (Carol Smith) on her deathbed, his change in voice, tone and character come across as without pause, reflection or an understanding of the gravity of the situation. While this scene seeks to show the extent and dedication of Rose’s love for her unfaithful husband, who in essence abandoned her out of dissatisfaction with himself, the way it is played out means viewers are perhaps confused by or ambivalent to its meaning.

This said, as Richard Robert Tripe provides an all around enjoyable performance, remaining consistently modest and genuine, while adding moments of spontaneity and improvisation on the night I attended. Phil Peleton is excellent in his role as Rose’s husband, the aloof and indifferent “cultural poser” Pierre Lacroix. He manages the tall order Spanish aristocrat/Canadian/London schooled accent well, and shows us the selfish unhappiness of Lacroix while maintaining our empathy. Carol Smith smoothly taps into the loss and disempowerment of Rose, and her scenes with Bjorg Halldorsdottir (as Magda) convey a very real sense of intimacy and friendship. As the wise and wry narrator Alice, Helen Moulder is thoroughly entertaining; her movements between bossiness and sympathy provide a heartwarming, grandmotherly tone. The teasing banter between Moulder and Tripe was for me the most endearing dialogue of the play.

Each of the actors’ performances in The Venetian Bride is individually strong and engaging. It is unfortunate then, that at times these performances fail to resonate or unite to form a consistent and even tone for the play as a whole. This seemed due to the shape of the script, and the directing, which meant the interchanges between present/memory/story came across as too unnatural and alternately forced or lagging. Alice narrates the story in a mode which leaves us hanging on for more at the conclusion of each ‘past’ scene, but we are not allowed enough time or space to reflect on the story or consider what we are being told before the next scene is rushed into. This lack of sensitivity towards emotional adjustment is contrasted with, in other moments, a sense of the interchanges lagging, as actors seem uncertain of their thematic placing or the direction or impact of the scene. This too seemed to be an issue of directing; and while Rachel More’s apparently energetic, slightly bouncy style may be brilliant in some productions; in my opinion here it has created a sense of discomfort and incongruity.

The Venetian Bride is the realisation of a long dream of playwright Robert Tripe’s, and is a masterfully crafted and sensitive piece, very much the “lovely, gentle” story it is claiming to be. Perhaps throughout the season, as actors and director feel out the limits and strengths of this play, it will become more satisfying and engaging to view.