THEATRE REVIEW:
WIT'S END III: LOVE LIFE
21 FEB/11

JOHN COULBOURN - QMI Agency
Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Sandra Shamas' life isn't so much an open book as an open stage. Over a career that spans almost a quarter century, she has used the detritus of her everyday life - the minor triumphs, the major disasters and a whole range of stuff in between - as grist for a mill that is still grinding out hit shows, although 'grind' is hardly a word to describe the final product.

For proof, one need look no further than the Winter Garden Theatre, where Shamas' latest effort, titled WIT'S END III: LOVE LIFE, drew an excited opening night audience Saturday, eager to launch an already extended Toronto run. As usual, it features Shamas in the role of the theatrical equivalent of a one-woman band, cast as producer, writer, director and performer as she continues to play out a story of her life - a story that began with a little Fringe show titled MY BOYFRIEND'S BACK AND THERE'S GOING TO BE LAUNDRY.

And while all of the five shows that have led to this one have been delightful, some of them, or at least the experiences some of them document, have been pretty harrowing. Love, marriage and divorce, liberally mixed with the experience of growing up immigrant and with a seething mass of regular insecurities - for Shamas, it's proved an alchemical formula for transforming her life into box-office gold. This time out is certainly no different.

The  subject as usual is change and transformation. And for the faint of heart, let's be perfectly clear. This time, that's 'change,' as in menopause - a subject which Shamas tackles from a highly personal perspective and with her usual take-no-prisoners approach, documenting her passage into "hag"-dom (her word, I assure you), aboard a suddenly out-of-control body with absolutely no climate control.  From mood swings to hair-raising adventures from the world of the suddenly hirsute, nothing is off limits. But in Shamas' world, it is also a transformation as liberating and filled with discovery as her 'change' from a lady of leisure to a farmer, a change mentored from afar by a literarily laconic but gifted Saskatchewan boy named Peter, also up for considerable discussion.

As usual, both transitions are informed by Shamas' often unique views on life, and speaking as an initiate, her insights, inspired by anything from the cheese table at a 'city party' to ads extolling erectile dysfunction remedies on afternoon TV, can only be appropriately worshipped with laughs that come straight from the belly, although knowing chuckles are in play too. But be warned, Don't plan to attend WIT'S END III if all you are looking for is more of the same old Shamas, for this is, after all, a Shamas transformed and in many ways, 'uplifted' (at $80 a puppy, no less) by her adventures.

While the cutting edge of her wit remains undiminished, its razor sharpness is more often than not soothed by the emollient of deepened affection and a sense of peace, both within herself and for the world around her. It also seems a little less structured, although that may be a simple reflection that on opening night, she was serving herself up rare in a show that was still cooking. A portion of her monologue, inadvertently omitted in the opening act, was simply inserted at the top of Act II, and for audience and performer alike, the 90 minutes-plus serving of Shamas tartar was in no way diminished.

And for the uninitiated that means Shamas rare - so don't miss this. It could be another several years before she's back.