Introduction

When Spring Awakening first transferred to Broadway in 2006, the Musical Theatre mainstream received it with shock and no small amount of pearl-clutching. Its intimate portrayals of teen sexuality and self-harm, combined with the obvious appeal it had to younger audiences, made it a frequent subject of discussion. This mirrored the original reception of its source material–a play with a long history of being censored and tucked away to soften or hide its frank depictions of the condition of youth, particularly under overly restrictive adult care.

Still, its enduring appeal is clearly not a product of sensationalism. Now that many of the teenagers who first loved Spring Awakening are raising children of their own, the piece remains a notable depiction of teen rebellion that is unflinching, sensitive, and vital. It lovingly sketches the almost embarrassing earnestness of the period just after puberty by showing us early 20th-century German kids experimenting with dangerous things like Goethe, sex, and socialism. 

Portraying this time of life always has its risks, of course. If you dwell too long on the gritty “realness” of events you might veer into pastiche or parody. Meanwhile, showing too much idealism or unearned optimism may betray the spirit of the teenager you once were.

Thankfully, Elevator Theatre Company (ETC) has delivered a highly moving work with their deliberate sensitivity, bold staging, and uncompromising performances. The cast and production team have shown great reverence for the voices of their subjects. They have successfully revealed the painful humanity of youth and the dangers of denying it.

Staging

Performing in UOttawa’s black box style LabO theatre, ETC has made the choice to stage this piece in a three-quarter thrust configuration (in this case with the audience seated on bleachers on three sides of the stage with the band positioned upstage). This stage set-up requires very careful blocking but produced a stunning effect in the performers. Despite having nowhere to hide, or perhaps as a result of it, every actor seemed naturally habituated to their scenes and purposeful in every motion.

During musical numbers, the choreography tended more towards interpretive movement rather than strict dancing, but it certainly didn’t lack for excitement. For every moment of geometric arms and quiet self-touching, there were scenes of backwards box walking and other (tasteful) stunts to highlight high emotion and illustrate the impassioned youthful feel of the score.

In most cases, both scenes and musical numbers were choreographed to play with levels (using several identical boxes as chairs, trees, and platforms) but also rotational symmetry. As performers came into emotional coherence, they might circle each other or mirror movements (as in “The Dark I Know Well” and “Blue Wind/I Don’t Do Sadness”), often at angles that split the stage diagonally or into quadrants, eschewing the strict left and right symmetry more common when performers stay behind a proscenium. 

This imparts to the audience the impression of listening to intimate conversations over the performers’ shoulders or overhearing a secret. It serves to heighten scenes of physical intimacy and violence between characters as well, with actors skillfully creating the necessary illusions of contact despite the fact that such a stage configuration offers no easy angles. This speaks not just to clever direction from Josh Rigo, but also to the work of Intimacy Coordinator Megan Piercey Monafu. The actors never seemed anything less than confident and focused during the several scenes of intimate contact that this piece includes.

The fluidity and speed with which performers flitted in and out between scenes from four corners of the stage rather than more traditional wings kept the audience’s eyes darting from place to place, just as restless as the characters on stage. In ETC’s most recent production, The Last Five Years, it was clear even with two characters that dynamic staging would be a strength. In this much larger show, that has proven to be true, as the engineered chaos of up to thirteen bodies on stage coalesced into a truly engrossing crowd that occupied the eyes and kept the audience completely engaged.

Production Design

By contrast, the lighting for this production was somewhat more understated and naturalistic, especially when framed in comparison to Josh Rigo’s previous shows this season. Nevertheless, restraint in this case was a well-founded choice. Unlike the appropriately exuberant lighting employed in Little Shop of Horrors (Carleton Musical Theatre Society), here he adopts a gentler lighting to, as the program mentions, “allow the narrative to breathe.” While occasionally drifting into dream-like moments for more introspective songs, his lighting work always seemed conscious of the need to make space for the enormity of what his performers have to say.

The setting and backdrop were similarly understated; identical boxes can become anything after all, but the number of creative configurations achieved was extremely impressive. Similarly, the backdrop, a tree painted on twenty or so wooden panels, appropriately suggests the setting of the text without being distracting.

Costuming (provided by Iris MacKay) was apt and simple, but with due attention paid to key details. The dresses provided to the girls gave a strong suggestion of their differing households. While Wendla’s dress is simply cut and child-like in accordance with the text, Martha’s, for instance, is longer and more tailored, no doubt to hide the scars of her parents’ abuse. Similarly, while the boys wear uniforms, the styling on them varied quite deliberately from boy to boy and scene to scene, reflecting the passage of time and the characters’ mental states. For example, from the moment we see him, Melchior has his tie undone as a symbol of his lack of care for conformity. As the show progresses and his mental state deteriorates, he slowly sheds his uniform, piece by piece. These touches are subtle, but show care and sensitivity.

Sound and Band

One area where the production was let down slightly was in sound mixing. Though everything was audible, at times it was difficult to fully appreciate the nuances of the performers’ voices over the sound of the band, choral singers, or dialogue. This was a bit of a sore point for a show like Spring Awakening, given the subtle turns of phrase in many songs which can be hard to pick up for those not previously familiar. Discerning lyrics was made even more difficult in the many numbers where dialogue and music, or two complimentary verses, would overlap. The loss of some of the finer nuances of the actors’ vocal performances was also unfortunate, given the rock/folk style that the show leans on, and the raw, textured sound that the singers were providing.

Nevertheless, the band was audible and dialogue was clear for the most part. At times I did wonder whether the performers may have had a difficult time hearing themselves and the band, given occasional missteps in timing and slight tuning issues on the boys’ chorus. Still, these flaws were minor and likely not noticed by most audiences. Further, I imagine the nature of the staging would pose challenges for appropriate placement of monitors. 

It should also be noted that equipment can be difficult to find at competitive rates in Ottawa, which has caused grief to many productions in recent years. ETC would not be the first production to be let down in this regard and no doubt their technicians were doing the best they could, given the circumstances.

The band performed from the back of the stage, lead by Sun Myung Claire Yoon on keys. They had no trouble keeping up with an expansive score and seemed to follow the singers well. The show’s five swings (Charlotte Thompson, Brandon Nguyen, Andrew Lemieux, Anna Gray, and Kaylee Reid) provided additional weight to the chorus sections, which was very welcome. Their enthusiasm was infectious where appropriate, but for the most part they seemed careful not to draw too much focus and maintained a proper mood.

Performers

While the role of Wendla will always live somewhat in the shadow of Lea Michele, Josée Sovinsky’s performance seemed utterly untroubled by precedent or fear. Opening the show with the solo version of “Mama Who Bore Me,” she set the tone for the rest of the production by diving into the intimate and expressive movement that would characterise many later numbers. Running hands over herself, she mapped the contours of her body as if it had only recently gained its shape, but the effect was to give a sense (albeit briefly) of self-mastery and acceptance. At the start of the narrative, at least, we are given an image of Wendla as we wish she could be–free to own and discover herself. It speaks very well of Josée’s connection to the role that she was able to carry such meaning in such seemingly small movements, to say nothing of how equally apt and elegant her voice was at all points during the show.

Indeed, ETC’s strong interpretation of Wendla is remarkable because of how it reinforces the underlying themes of the piece. While it would be tempting to dismiss Wendla’s character arc as the story of a naïf who is failed by her own ignorance, this production and its actors seem to have come to a more fulsome understanding. Although we feel some pity for Wendla as Josée shows her pleading with her mother (Jesse Kahat) for more information on how children are made, the depth and intelligence that Josée brings to Wendla rebukes the idea that she is not prepared for that truth.

In each moment on stage, Josée demonstrated a great depth of empathy that exists within Wendla, as well as her capacity for greater understanding. This serves to reinforce the ultimate themes of children who are doomed not by their own failings, per se, but by the unwillingness (or inability) of their parents to provide them with the knowledge and guidance they need to take full control of their own lives. When Wendla meets her ultimate fate, then, we do not see it as a mere accident of innocence – instead we see just how close Wendla came to apprehending this world on her own, and perceive the cruelty of the puritanical order that deprives her of her needs.

Of course, Wendla’s story would not be complete without an appropriately impactful depiction of her mother. In Spring Awakening all adult roles are condensed down into two players, simply “Adult Man” and “Adult Woman.” Jesse Kahat’s impressive range while performing as all of the “Adult Woman” roles, kept distinct by only subtle costume touches and her own acting, was at its highest at the very beginning and very end of the piece. In the scenes as Wendla’s mother, she found a depth to match her scene partner, portraying not just how Frau Bergmann fails her daughter but also, to some extent, evoking some empathy for Frau Bergmann herself. We see how she cares for her daughter, even in the moments where she deprives her, since she herself was trained since birth to follow these proprieties. The tension between her love and her rigidity is incredibly necessary to this piece. 

Other highlights of Jesse’s performance included her understated comedic turn as a busty piano teacher to Georg (Kyle Thompson), and her entirely silent performance as the mother to Moritz (Noah Pacheco) during his funeral. She brought experience and sentiment to these parts without romanticizing, which is a credit both to herself and to the work of her director.

Noah Pacheco was ideally cast as Moritz Stiefel. His recent performance as Jonathan Larson in TotoToo Theatre’s Tick Tick Boom showed off both his comfort with a more textured rock sound as well as his honesty when handling heavy material. In this role he continues to hone his abilities as a master of relatable, everyman charisma while never sacrificing vocals. His unflinching connection to the audience throughout numbers like “I Don’t Do Sadness” and “Left Behind,” was almost unbearably close and intimate, holding viewers by the throat as he guided us through Moritz’s final moments.

Similarly, Yan Simon’s turn as Melchior Gabor imparted an excellent sense of weight and of a burden born in isolation. Through subtle touches of physical acting, Yan evoked the suffocating pressure of being a teenage rebel. As much as Melchior can be insufferably pompous, Yan’s performance invites our empathy just as much as the rest of the cast. We are able to see that, for however many times Melchior blusters and blunders, he acts as he does out of a sense of conviction all too common in those his age. Like Wendla, he is burdened by a knowledge almost too big for him, and he has no true mentors to share with or relate to. Only at the end of the show do we see, at last, a sense of relief in his performance as his self-destructive hand is staid by the ghosts of his friends, and the rest of the chorus rushes in to join him to carry on against an uncaring world.

Indeed, if I were to characterize the character choices as a whole, it would be as empathetic and eloquent. At all times the actors seem to be pleading with us to embrace these young people for all their faults and to forgive them for their excesses; we were all teenagers once. 

This is especially true in Clarissa Fortin’s portrayal of Ilse. When she barrels into Moritz’s life just ahead of his suicide, her energy is initially so disruptive to his dark mood that we almost hope she can save him, but this is not to be. In the scene preceding “Blue Wind,” she reveals herself to be as lost as he is, tossed about by abusive men in an art colony. When she narrates how they chase her, she says it proudly, almost bragging, but we are not fooled for a moment. In her knowing performance, Clarissa seems to understand that Ilse’s posturing is as much to impress Moritz as it is to help Ilse herself to contextualize her pain in a more flattering light.

When Moritz rejects her, she delivers the line “by the time you finally wake up, I’ll be lying in some trash heap,” a hideous crash down to reality after so much friendly banter and nostalgia. It takes immense bravery to deliver such a line without artifice, and Clarissa accomplished that with ease. Similarly, before the final number “Song of Purple Summer,” Clarissa sings the prelude entirely unaccompanied, showcasing a masterful grasp of tuning and gorgeous vocal tone. 

Still, perhaps her most poignant moment comes, as with many others, at Moritz’s funeral, where we see her and Martha Bessell (Jill Prins) comforting each other in their grief. Given Martha had compared herself to Ilse earlier in the show, it was a well-placed touch. The script does not permit us to know explicitly how Ilse reacts to Moritz’s death, but this moment in the funeral scene communicates all we need.

As Martha, Jill distinguishes herself early in the piece with the scene directly preceding the infamously haunting song “The Dark I Know Well.” In a startling moment, Martha shatters her friends’ teasing by admitting that her father is physically abusive. Although I personally was seated such that much of her ensuing lines were delivered with her back to me, I still felt the devastating pragmatism in her words as she described her harrowing life. Jill portrays Martha as almost resigned, forced to adapt to hardships too great for anyone to bear, much less at her age. The staging as well as her performance alongside Ilse in “The Dark I Know Well” underscores that perfectly.

The gut-wrenching turns of that scene were a personal highlight for the performances given by Anna (Andrea Romero Cartas) and Thea (Emma Woodside). The girls have opposite but (for their situations) understandable reactions to the news of Martha’s abuse. Thea tries to justify the it, and as horrific as it is, we see that in her lack of understanding she is trying to comfort her friend by appealing to order. Anna, meanwhile, expresses a hope that one day, her children will be free of such discipline and inhumanity.

In their delivery, both Emma and Andrea showed the tragedy of these well-meaning girls. In Thea’s case, we already see how the system works to turn her kindly instincts against her friends’ needs. In Anna’s case we see the perfect portrait of a dreamer, trapped by circumstance. It was impressive to see each of them accomplish startlingly well-rounded characterizations of these young girls, despite their small space in the runtime of their scenes. They brought these characters to bear with true poise whenever they were on stage as part of the chorus.

Similarly impressive despite comparatively small roles were Salem Valentine and Joseph Ruberto as Ernst and Hanschen, respectively. Their small scene accompanying “Word of Your Body (Reprise),” showed a genuine respect for the characters, despite Hanschen’s bravado. It was a rare moment of convincing gay romance in a musical, as so often performers may shy away from showing the fullness and joy of men’s private intimacy. Joseph managed to balance a jaunty confidence with sincere desire, and Salem’s willingness to give fully over to Ernst’s surrendering, guileless love was stellar.

The remaining two members of the boys’ chorus, Georg (Kyle Thompson) and Otto (Alex Henkelmen) acquitted themselves well in their scenes and chorus numbers. Both displayed strong commitment to the choreography and a grounded sense of character, particularly in “Touch Me,” where the chorus were more heavily featured as individuals.

While balancing many roles as Adult Man, Paul Davis brought a certain dignity to his bearing that provided a foil to and villain for the young men in most scenes. His body acting was quite able, particularly in moments of high tension, such as his collapse during Moritz’s funeral. Although he seemed occasionally to struggle with the text, particularly when called on to portray the headmaster, and despite some unusual choices of speech rhythm, his enthusiasm was clear, and his turn as the abortionist was appropriately chilling.

My word count should demonstrate how deeply impressed I was by the cast as a whole. If the enormous audience reaction by the finale is anything to go by, much of my fellow theatre-goers must feel the same. That so many performers managed to achieve a high level of eloquence and facility in their performance speaks to their talents, of course, but also demonstrates the efficacy and consideration of their director and the professionalism of their production team. Josh Rigo should be commended for eliciting and balancing such powerful performances so consistently. 

Conclusion

At the end of “Song of Purple Summer,” our cast re-assembles themselves in a formation echoing the staging of the earlier number “Totally Fucked.” Whereas in “Fucked,” the Adults stood upstage, looming over Melchior with threats of expulsion, while all the other young people joined in behind him, in “Purple Summer,” now Melchior is upstage, flanked by the ghosts of his closest friends, Wendla and Moritz, with the adults before him.

As the Adults, the forces of social order, menace him, he is once again surrounded by the other youth. This emphasized, in my opinion, one of the most critical elements of the story–when Wendla and Moritz are isolated from their friends, they fall prey to the harms their parents couldn’t keep them from. Similarly, Melchior is at his worst when he is isolated–away from his friends and consumed with impotent brooding and theorizing. It is only by joining with his fellows that he can hope to stand strong and bring about the world he dreams of. No matter his intellect or talent, he is not enough on his own.

Similarly, as impressive as Elevator Theatre Company is, we as a viewing public would do well to remember that ETC is one part of our community among many and should not have to stand alone. It has been remarked that ETC is setting a new bar for the level of staging in this town, particularly for a non-union productions. Others have mentioned the high caliber of direction being provided and the uncompromising respect for artists being demonstrated. All of these are excellent indicators, in my opinion, and highly promising for a first season.

Still, as a community, the responsibility rests with us to support this production and I would encourage anyone to show faith in ETC for its future endeavours. If we want more productions of this type, employing local faces and developing local talent, then we as audiences must continue to support ETC and show them that we want more work of this kind. It also behooves us to reward well-founded, independent shows from other companies as well.

I would recommend that anyone who has not yet had the chance to see this show take the opportunity while there is still time and consider purchasing tickets to future ETC productions. This is ETC’s first season in Ottawa, and they deserve the warmest of welcomes for the level of artistry they are bringing to our local scene.