THEATRE REVIEW: LOVE, LOSS AND WHAT I WORE
22 Jul'10

JOHN COULBOURN - QMI Agency
Rating: 4 out of 5

You just might be surprised at what you find in the closet. Certainly, Nora And Delia Ephron were -- and we're not talking about a male relative.

Just what they find is explored in a new play called LOVE, LOSS AND WHAT I WORE, a play that takes women -- and those who love them -- on a sentimental journey through their closets and their memory banks in an evening of simple, often delightful theatre. LOVE, LOSS AND WHAT I WORE opened Wednesday at the Panasonic Theatre, a production of Michael Rubinoff in association with Daryl Roth.

As is often the case with good theatre, it all started out on the page -- a personal reminiscence of writer Ilene Beckerman, who originated the idea in a book intended for her children in which she sketched various outfits she had worn over the years with an accompanying narration detailing reams of other personal detail. In bringing it to the stage, the sisters Ephron have preserved Beckerman's voice (and her drawings) in the person of Gingey (short for Ginger) -- the evening's narrator and anchor, played with usual style and joyous panache by Louise Pitre.

But the Ephrons have overlaid Beckerman's voice with a chorus of other female voices -- and such voices. Andrea Martin, Mary Walsh, Sharron Matthews and Paula Brancati form a simple chorus of characters and together conspire to expose just a few of the ways a woman and her wardrobe come together. That leads, almost inevitably, of course, to the deep connection between clothing and self-esteem (or, as often as not, the lack thereof). Bras, prom dresses. wedding gowns, handbags, boots and short skirts -- even the little black dress -- are all trotted down the runway of the imagination in a show that embraces the strong connection between what one wears and how one feels.

It's often delightful and silly stuff -- Walsh's take on a bra-fitting is delirious, while Martin all but steals the show in a monologue detailing a safari through the wilds of Paris, in search of the apparently elusive Kelly bag. But it also doesn't shy from the darker corners, be it in the lushly curved Matthews response to Martin's claim that she's always been thin -- or in the deeper explorations of personal issues undertaken by Walsh and Brancati.

Under the direction of Karen Carpenter, it's all good stuff stalled just shy of greatness by a few niggling missteps, starting with Pitre's casting in the central role.

Now, right off the top, let it be said that there are very few roles the hugely talented Pitre can't tackle; but frankly, the role of a 60-year-old woman, past her prime and hiding behind long sleeves and scarves is a bit of a stretch. Add in the disconnect created by the fact that, cast as the New York-born and bred Gingey, Pitre has not been encouraged to even attempt New York speech, which further weighs her down.

Which leads to another niggling concern. Not surprisingly -- considering its off-Broadway pedigree -- this is a very New York-centric piece. But all of these talented actors have strong (and treasured) roots in Canada -- and save for a single reference to the Habs and another to a local mall, there is absolutely no attempt to recognize their roots. It's an evening of theatre that tells more than a few universal truths -- so how tough might it have been to make a few of the stories a little more universal too?

Just asking.