Paw-sitively Interesting: Humor, Hierarchy and Hope

Morpheus Theatre staged Puss in Boots at the Pump House Theatre from the 13th to the 21st of December, 2024. The play was advertised as a pantomime and did not disappoint in living up to the zaniness of the genre. The characters and audience were encouraged to break the fourth wall, akin to a bawdy medieval environment where improvisation, humour and self-deprecation created a raucous immersive experience. The play, Puss in Boots, follows an earnest young man called Tom who becomes the master of Puss. Tom is the protagonist whose fortunes are transformed through the inventive cunningness of his cat. Under Puss’s guidance, we see Tom dramatically confront questions of love, and poverty, overcoming a powerful and shape-shifting Ogre, taking on the ‘Marquis of Carabas’ persona, and eventually winning his way to wealth and love. Tom, after being disillusioned with his inheritance, sets out on a transformative journey to address his diminished status and lack of agency in a social-hierarchical order that he sees as deeply entrenched. Puss in this play embodies the mentor/helper archetype for Tom, but unlike other wiser archetypes is a more subversive and adaptive form of guidance. Puss shows us in this play that advancements in status and wealth are not necessarily based on honesty, hard work or being completely honest; rather, they are achieved through an artful manipulation of the truth and the skillful deployment of performative strategies. Puss uses perception and manipulation to leverage and exploit the structures of power that assist Tom in advancing his social position. Puss’s ability to fabricate a noble identity is a demonstration of how the upper class, as a social formation, is constructed and performative, that there are no eternalized attributes to any of the exalted social classes, but rather that they are constructed through social practice and sagacious ingenuity. As Puss shows us, systems of power, in many instances, are based on being able to manufacture compelling stories, no matter how absurd. whether it was the historic divine right of kings, the myths around modern-day meritocracy, or wealth always being the product of hard work, some stories no matter how disconnected from the truth have a way of hijacking our social imagination and obfuscating the truth of things. Here an implied question is posed to the audience, do we remain supportive of the terms of our social contracts that support the constructed-ness of social class, or do we find ways to subject it to meaningful interrogation and thought? Pantomimes present no ideological solutions to these issues, but a democratic awareness of how class-based consciousness affects our civic choices is an important enough theme to spend sustained thought over.

Tom’s helplessness and passive agency at the start of the play is in some ways equivalent to the daunting task that is currently faced by the Canadian electorate, at a crossroads of where we are as a political and cultural collective, beset by the social scale of challenges that envelop us. The overcoming of the Ogre, seen through a political lens, symbolizes the recouping of confidence by the civic collective, with the upcoming election, civil and market society is expected to ride high with the promise of renewal and a hope for entering an age of transformative change. These cycles of disempowerment and empowerment are akin to the archetype of the civic phoenix, capturing the collective rebirth of civic and political agency. The cyclical nature of this motif is a stark reminder that progress is never linear, it is the composite result of creativity, adversity, and renewal. Whether it is the issue of housing, job growth, revivifying our fractured communities, re-asserting civic agency, creating more inclusive spaces, or building enduring economies, these cycles remind us that social transformation requires the earnestness of Tom and the inventive sagacity of Puss. Earnestness without sagacity is rudderless hope, and sagacity without earnestness is untethered cynicism. This is neatly embodied in the biblical statement, "Be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves." The intersection of wisdom and innocence is what makes the pantomime genre so compelling, and is a cosmic theme that has expressed itself in seminal Medieval works like St. George and the Dragon, Robin Hood, and King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

Good pantomimes speak to us at an existential, political, and civic level, and well-staged pantomimes release the imaginative energies of the social collective in inventive and engaging ways. This is why, as an artistic form, it has resonated with the human experience for a significant period of time. Carl Bishop has done a commendable job in mobilizing the talent of his actors; they came across as confident, comfortable, and ebullient. It is not hard for an audience to detect the signature of a director who has both, inspired confidence in his cast and has created the conditions for their artistic growth on stage. It is quite clear that he is a director who ardently empowers his actors on stage, giving them the space to organically develop their characters within their ranges. This is where the performative authenticity of the actors in this production stems from. In this production, we are given a surfeit of genuine commitment and emotion. That dynamic is the result of a particular brand of direction, one that I deeply appreciate and have admiration for, it is a humane and progressive vision of artistry. It is never accidental and there is a great deal of self-reflection and sustained observation that goes into creating that delicate environment for actors.

The characters had very distinctive outlines, rich inner lives, and outlandish idiosyncrasies. Ray Mordan as the widow Miller was truly fascinating to watch, rendering a consummate and professional performance, replete with vocal inflections and behavioural nuances that transcended the genre. Ray created a palpable, believable, and enriched character. Michael Bacon as the ogre was affable and commanding, exuding more confidence than I have seen most professional actors embody in the last couple of years. Amber Dujay, as Queen Brenda, possessed the stage with comic regality, exhibiting outstanding levels of performative conviction and engagement. The rest of the central and ensemble cast did a good job of maintaining the dramatic cadence on stage. The production was minimalist, as it will be with amateur productions, but it was effective and did the job. The house musicians were adorable and having them interact with the cast was true to the pantomime spirit of the play. The play did dip in between, some scenes did not seem as cleanly sketched out as others, voice projection was a persistent issue for some members of the cast and the singing was, even by amateur standards, certainly not up to the mark. The ensemble pieces were good, but the individual pieces were weak and lacked coordination or dynamism. This is something that needs serious improvement in future iterations of the production. A personal preference - I would have liked to have seen more jabs at the political state of things, this is of course always risqué but there is a delicate way of doing these things without coming across as a partisan. Layering politically sardonic content on top of the large number of puns in the play would have introduced a layer of piquant cultural commentary, adding more social depth to the performance.

That being said, this production is a refreshing gasp of air. Carl bishop and his cast brought this play to life, it has a vivacious pulse, beating with confidence and heart. The production’s true strength lies in its complete lack of self-consciousness, at no time does it appear or intend to be more than it is. This allowed for the actors to fully embody the zaniness of the genre. This pantomime is a celebration of community and creativity, embracing the quirkiness and kitsch aesthetic of the genre with sharp intention and conviction.

Rating - 6.5