THEATRE REVIEW:
LU XUN Blossoms
17 JUN/11

JOHN COULBOURN - QMI Agency
Rating: 4 out of 5

TORONTO - For years, the Toronto-based Theatre Smith-Gilmour has maintained a bustling little dream factory at the intersection of theatre and literature, spinning the spirits of such diverse literary lions as Anton Chekhov and Katherine Mansfield and Dante and the Brothers Grimm into full-blown theatrical whimsy, often with great success.

And now — in a world of disappearing trade borders, quite fittingly, it seems — they’ve gone international. While their latest work continues in the company’s long established literary tradition, tackling five short stories from contemporary Chinese writer Lu Xun — considered by many to be the father of modern Chinese literature — it also marks a bold step into the world of international collaboration for the intimate little company.

Created and directed by S-G’s co-artistic directors Dean Gilmour and Michele Smith, LU XUN Blossoms — currently playing an extremely limited run in the Isabel Bader Theatre as part of Luminato — represents the first Sino-Canadian co-production in theatrical history, we are told — and here’s hoping it is the first of many.

Created in collaboration with the Shanghai Dramatic Arts Centre, the work is performed in both Mandarin and English in its North American debut, with appropriate subtitling where necessary. It features a cast of three Canadian performers (Smith, Gilmour and occasional collaborator Adam Paolozza) and three highly talented Chinese actors (Guo Hongbo, Zhao Sihan and Wang Yangmeizi). Since 2007, the work has been seen and embraced by audiences in Shanghai, Beijing, Hong Kong, Guangzhou and Macau.

With Gilmour cast in the role of the writer himself, it all starts simply with the aged Lu Xun seated at his desk writing down his recollections, which come quietly and magically to life as Gilmour leads the cast into the first of five stories. As stories go, the first is more of a vignette, really — a simple, touching recollection of a rickshaw ride that goes horribly awry when the vehicle is in a collision with an old women. Anecdotal though it is, it sets the tone for the rest of the stories, all of which focus on the essential humanity of the poor and dispossessed.

From the rickshaw ride, we move to other recollections, increasingly fleshed out as other cast members take on the role of Lu Xun. An aged servant inadvertently kills a pet mouse then redeems herself with an unexpected kindness; a young man hungers for knowledge, even while he worries that it might land him in hell; an aging peasant dismissed as a criminal ends up giving more than simply his eye teeth in his search for knowledge. In spinning out these tales, each cast member is given a chance to shine, even while they impress with the power of their collaboration.

All of which leads to the grand finale, a deeply affecting exploration of the back story of a tragedy spun out under the title of The New Year’s Sacrifice, and played out with both a sympathy and a simplicity that is little short of breathtaking. Indeed, while some of the stories featured earlier in the program fall prey to Smith-Gilmour’s occasional penchant for over-embroidery (cat’s claws are sharp and some people are really, really hairy — we get it), there is, in this final offering, an almost zen-like devotion to the simplicity and the humanity cocooned at the very heart of the tale.

Rather than gild it, they stand back and simply let the story tell itself, content to underscore its humanity at every turn with an understated but powerful sense of theatricality. It takes a while, but in that single story, Lu Xun does indeed blossom — and it is beautiful.