Too Much to Chew

Watching Confessions of the Other Woman brought to mind for me those highschool drama classes where you learn about the history of theatre. One word was drummed into us over and over again. Catharsis. Catharsis not for the audience, but for the players, sent to work out their struggles through performance and creation as a communion with the gods. A "Confession" of sorts. That's exactly what this performance felt like to me. A brave, skillful endeavour to commune with the theatre gods and to work through some concepts. Well acted, visually stunning and stylistically interesting, ambitious... but audience-incidental.

That said, I'm going to evaluate Confessions as an audience member, because that's what I am right now. As an artist, especially if I was part of this production, I might have a different focus.

Eve, the main character (the other woman) describes herself as “stupidly in love” and as a
representation of that confused state, the narrative is very effective. As a logical progression (not necessarily linear, but with a beginning and an end and change in between) I felt the narrative lacked purpose. (It just occurred to me that the entire play may take place in between a few minutes of "real time" conversation. If that's so, I wish the conversation journey had been more surprizing.)

The performance elements were without fault. However, cramming dance, narration, naturalism, a “play within a play”, dreams, flashbacks and symbolism into one play felt like wathcing the kid who has no concept of  "next time" and wants to eat everything at the restaurant in one sitting. (Except I've never watched that, because it was me.)

The dialogue felt that way too. Like the audience wasn't trusted to get the point, so we had to hear the argument from every angle. Or perhaps the playwright didn't trust her words. All I know is that it left the taste of justification in my mouth. Not regarding the subject matter, but more in the way it was delivered. It was a very wordy play with long, intense intellectual discussions that just don't happen that frequently or consistently in life. Especially when you're taking your lovers clothes off.

I love what was done with the set, visually this play was both interesting and surprizing. The dance scenes were delightful, although more controlled than the "Splashy American Musical" I was expecting. Matt Ward is particularly charming in his physical comedy. Sometimes the switch from “real life story” to dance number was abrupt and jarring and there were way too many costume changes for my taste. Some of which were very effective, some seemed completely pointless. However, constant change can work in your favour. There was a fluidity between the narration, inner monologues and reality speech that was confusing at times, but I felt the ambiguity lent to the ambience and understanding of subtext rather than detracting from it.

My friend Juxtaposition was rife: ranging from the poignantly humourous (a voice over about being an akward geek during Eve's sexy lingirie dance) and the delightfully macabre (Singing in the Rain). Those moments were the most eloquent for me. The most naked and the most full.

Confessions of the Other Woman actually did odd and unsettling really well. Eve seems to be in a constant dream state. Trying to relate her journey to “reality” detracted from what I felt the core of the piece was. Personally I would have brought out the scissors and pared it down, cut out all of the "real life scenes" except for that one pivotal conversation and some of the Shakespeare, which was beautiful, to keep the action in the inner universe. I'd really love to see that done, because I did enjoy big chunks of this production.

As it stands, despite the dancing, dreams and eloquence, this play just felt like one unrelenting argument. An (intentional?) paradox: “Pretending not to love the man I love”,  with a character that doesn't feel guilty yet spends all her time justifying her actions to her friends and a "glowing" and "stupidly in love" couple that do nothing but bemoan their situation. And part of this is the point. Our minds and hearts seldom line up. Love isn't logical! Thing is, if I wanted confused justifications, angst and anaylsis, I would be outside talking to any Joe on the street, not at the theatre.