Corey Spence
Ginette McDonald as Madame Arcati
There’s an otherworldly buzz to Circa Theatre tonight as the crowd settles into Blithe Spirit, into the home of Charles Condomine (Phil Peleton), a novelist looking for his next hit. To fuel his novel, he and his husband Rudi (Simon Leary) invite the local psychic—whom most of the town is skeptical of—Madame Arcati (Ginette McDonald) to perform a séance in their home. The couple invites Dr and Mrs Bradman (Peter Hambleton and Hera Dunleavy, who also doubles as Edith the maid) around, as the four are looking forward to seeing the ‘hocus pocus’ of the so-called psychic… However, Charles can’t shake the thought of his ex-wife, Elvira (Laura Hill), as the séance begins. What could possibly go wrong when the spirit of your late first wife accidentally manifests and moves back in to torment your current partner?
Blithe Spirit is Noël Coward’s ‘improbable farce’ - a comedy with enough absurdity to keep you giggling and have you laughing for all the right reasons. And this production, directed by Colin McColl, hits all the right beats.
Blithe Spirit is Noël Coward’s ‘improbable farce’ - a comedy with enough absurdity to keep you giggling and have you laughing for all the right reasons. And this production, directed by Colin McColl, hits all the right beats.
What’s maybe different about this specific production is Charles’ current wife is not a wife at all! Ruth has become Rudi, a shift that you wouldn’t necessarily know without some knowledge of the play, and that speaks to how seamless a transition it is. Leary balances the frustration, flamboyance, and fear in Rudi keenly, which means the character never feels like a melodramatic stereotype. The play’s style helps with this, but it’s clear to me both McColl and Leary have thought carefully about how best to have Rudi portrayed. There’s also, perhaps, a commentary on the time — a decision can be made now about modern productions of Blithe Spirit that Coward could not have staged in his lifetime.
This decision to gender-shift Ruth to Rudi certainly amplifies Charles’ vanity; he expects and gains adoration and love from everyone and anyone he can rather than just young women. Peleton’s Charles is initially taken aback by his late first wife’s materialisation, until the eternal bachelor finds immense comfort in having both a doting wife and a devoted husband. In this strange throuple, one that Elvira and Rudi want no part in together, Charles is the only one winning. This also gives the production plenty of opportunities to ham up the occasional British-ism or archaic turn-of-phrase. When Mrs Bradman remarks the ‘queer occasion’ they find themselves in, while in the presence of Charles and Rudi, her foot-in-mouth in all its awkward grandeur, is on full display. This could have easily fallen flat in otherwise crude or clumsy directorial hands, but not here.
One of the production’s true successes is how it plays with the arcane elements. McDonald delivers Arcati’s lines about her experiences with “ectoplasmic profusions” with a breathy passion that makes the innuendo unavoidable for the audience. Eerie music reminiscent of old ghost movies and a theremin resounds when Hill’s Elvira moves objects to impress or scare. The most exciting of these is how well the cast know the rules: only Charles can see Elvira, which presents plenty of chances for the characters to play on the moments of pure farce. Before Rudi accepts that Elvira has indeed returned, and later, when Madame Arcati attempts to interact with her, Elvira will be anywhere but the location the other character is speaking to. It’s simple, but hilarious. It only gets worse for Rudi when Charles, trying to temper Elvira’s attitude towards Rudi, hears the awful barbs and judgemental quips Charles speaks and assumes each is targeted at him. To be in on the joke, the dramatic irony of it all, makes this such a fun little game for the audience.
The cast perform and work together transcendentally. Peleton and Leary pair well for Charles and Rudi. There’s a tenderness to their relationship at first, and a sharpness and discomfort once Rudi’s insecurities and Charles’ vanity cloak the room. Both have a supercilious nature about them, and the audience is spoiled whenever they clash with each other – mostly obviously and at times hurtfully when they cannot agree about Elvira. Hambleton as the bumbling and loud Dr Bradman has moments of seriousness (particularly when he’s discussing medicine or hysteria) and flamboyance (notable in his giddiness before the séance and his obedience when Mrs Bradman wants nothing less than to linger in the Condomines’ home). Dunleavy, who double-bills Mrs Bradman and Edith the maid, shows restraint in the former and great physical comedy in the latter, which is often the tincture we need during the play’s more tense moments. Hill plays the sultry, longing, and petulant pieces of Elvira’s character superbly. It’s the little things, like toying with Charles’ hair while he speaks with Rudi or trying to make Charles jealous with some ‘secrets’ from their marriage, that make her so dynamic.
While talent is high across the board, we’re most enamoured by McDonald’s equal-parts ethereal, eccentric, and effervescent Madame Arcati. Rather than hysterical, McDonald offers moments of camp (aided by her fabulous wardrobe, courtesy of costume designer Nic Smilie, special mention to the glitzy sequin robe that oozes almost as much personality as she does) when she’s in the throes of her psychic craft and memories of séances and trances gone by. And in her more dialogic and mundane moments, there’s a dry wit and cheekiness to her, whether that be her sneaking a drink from the Condomines’ bar or her taking offence to being the object of mockery. McDonald unabashedly enjoys the role, and that makes me love her Madame Arcati even more.
Scenographically, the production is slick. Thanks to Jennifer Lal’s lighting design, the presence of cool blues and slight purples alongside or in exchange of the warm stage lighting gives that ethereal touch the production begs for. There’s even a special ‘séance light’ that spots the small table where the literal magic happens and amplifies the tension during the eerie and otherworldly moments of the play. The stage, courtesy of John Parker’s set design, is the kind of fancy you’d expect from a character like Charles without making the stage too cluttered: a bar rests near the back for the characters to make martinis and drink brandy, a large fluffy white rug that hosts the more comfortable furniture used for resting or, in Arcati’s case, trancing, and a small side table and chairs for eating and arguing. The draping of blue velvet on one edge of the stage and often billowing, thin white fabric courting the other marries the domestic setting with tinges of the mystical. Opening night has some sudden bumps and drops in brightness or volume that seem more like adjustments to find the right levels than intentional choices, and at times, the lights-out transitions between scenes lag, but they’re not frequent enough to shatter the illusion.
Blithe Spirit is just a hauntingly good time. The humour is electric and the two-hour production flies by. While there’s definitely thematic threads of cynical skepticism, the nature of vanity, and the new context and meaning possessing the production by giving Charles a same-sex partner, none of these are really the point. Blithe Spirit is a fabulous example of theatrical escapism—a moment of respite and sheer, unadulterated, cosmic entertainment. And I don’t think there’s a better time for a bit of ‘art for art’s sake’.
You can, and should, catch Blithe Spirit while you can, before it whisks its way back beyond the material plane. Tickets are available through the Circa Theatre website.