Skip to main content

REVIEW: La Bête is a sublime few hours of rhymes and ridiculousness 

int(107550)
iPhoto caption: Photo by Dahlia Katz.
/By / Mar 11, 2024
SHARE

In a theatrical ecology saturated with solo shows, a 30-minute monologue shouldn’t be particularly impressive.

Tell that to Mike Nadajewski, who’s offering the performance of a lifetime (yes, it’s a cliché, but no, it’s not an exaggeration) in Talk Is Free Theatre’s La Bête, now playing at Harbourfront Centre

Near the top of David Hirson’s riotously funny comedy about 17th-century France, Nadajewski acts for his very life, spewing endless rhyming couplets at a dumbfounded Elomire (totally not an anagram for Molière, and played with smarmy gravitas by the ever-wonderful Cyrus Lane) and Bejart (a delightful Richard Lam). The half-hour monologue barely feels five minutes ” it’s staggeringly well-performed, and directed by Dylan Trowbridge without ego. Nadajewski’s bumbling task-work and spot-on diction feel completely lived-in and authentic; the line between director and actor is razor-thin, signalling excellent work from both Nadajewski and Trowbridge.

Just who is this delusional braggart prancing about the stage, alternating between pissing on curtains and disgusting himself with the very thought of vinaigrette? The question hangs in the air as Nadajewski circles Lane and Lam like a vulture, luxuriating in the humour of the script with disarming magnetism. It turns out this nincompoop is Valere, Elomire’s mortal enemy and a perennial pest in the world of French theatre. He’s talentless and charmless, cries Elomire, a playwright himself. But Valere’s the shoo-in winner of any popularity contest ” he may be chaotic, but he’s whip-smart, quick on his feet, and capable of winning over a room in seconds.

Hirson’s play, peppered with allusions  to Molière, offers a quirky, sardonic look at the French playwright. For instance, Dorine, a maid, played here by a spunky Katarina Fiallos, borrows her name from the ingenue of Tartuffe (Hirson’s Dorine also speaks solely in monosyllabic words that rhyme with two, and thanks to Fiallos’ lovely performance, the bit never grows old). 

But Hirson also uses Valere’s rise to cultural power as an allegory for the dangers of showmanship in the leaders we support. La Bête predates Trumpian politics by several decades ” Hirson wrote it in 1991 ” and yet the commentary is spot-on. It’s hard not to feel for poor Elomire when his troupe of actors (portrayed by a fabulous ensemble) claims Valere as their idol. All that’s missing is a handful of red hats.

Joe Pagnan’s set is simple yet effective, really just a few chairs (or as Valere calls them, Francescas), and elegant velvet curtains to line a back platform, as well as a crooked picture frame suspended from the ceiling by wire. The furnished world of the play offers the cast (well, Nadajewski) plenty of room to to play with, and in a play that demands such physical agility from its lead, such sparseness pays off. Laura Delchiaro’s charming costume design, too, suggests the aristocracy of this world without mimicking its stiffness ” the frilly outfits are both beautiful and functional.

Talk Is Free Theatre never fails to nudge the boundaries of theatre, injecting a refined sense of playfulness into the work it produces. Where else in this town are you going to catch an immersive Sweeney Todd, or buy a ticket to a show that literally takes you across the ocean? La Bête is yet another success for the company, bringing phenomenal talent to a frequently bizarre play that could fall apart or become repetitive in the wrong hands. Two-and-a-half hours of rhyming couplets never felt so cool.


La Bête runs at Harbourfront Centre until March 16. Tickets are available here.


Intermission reviews are independent and unrelated to Intermission‘s partnered content. Learn more about Intermission‘s partnership model here.

Aisling Murphy
WRITTEN BY

Aisling Murphy

Aisling is Intermission's former senior editor and the theatre reporter for the Globe and Mail. She likes British playwright Sarah Kane, most songs by Taylor Swift, and her cats, Fig and June. She was a 2024 fellow at the National Critics Institute in Waterford, CT.

LEARN MORE

Comments

  • Colby Cereo Apr 17, 2024

    I have a question about this post. Can you please clarify?

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


/
Production photo of Just For One Day at Mirvish. iPhoto caption: Photo by Evan Zimmerman for MurphyMade.

REVIEW: Mirvish’s Just For One Day gives Live Aid the showchoir treatment

It’s a group effort to a rather incredible degree — many of the songs are essentially riff battles, with the singers hot-potatoing the melody around.

By Liam Donovan
Production photo of A Streetcar Named Desire at Theatre Calgary. iPhoto caption: Photo by Nanc Price.

REVIEW: A Streetcar Named Desire pulls into Theatre Calgary for the first time in over two decades

You’ll find everything you might expect from a take on A Streetcar Named Desire: sensuality, top-notch performances, and all.

By Eve Beauchamp
Production photo of Cliff Cardinal's CBC Special. iPhoto caption: Photo by Henry Chan.

REVIEW: Cliff Cardinal’s CBC Special is a real gem

Cliff Cardinal’s CBC Special may not broadcast on Canadian television, but it is, indeed, quite special.

By Ryan Borochovitz

REVIEW: La Reine-garçon hits like an avalanche at the COC

This co-production between the Canadian Opera Company and the Opéra de Montréal is eminently watchable.

By Liam Donovan
iPhoto caption: Photo by Curtis Perry.

REVIEW: In Why It’s (im)Possible at GCTC, parenting is an ever-evolving process

In the context of an increasingly difficult political and social climate for trans youth, Why It’s (im)Possible addresses the need for familial support.

By Alexa MacKie
Production photo from Who's Afraid of Virignia Woolf? at Canadian Stage. iPhoto caption: Photo by Dahlia Katz.

REVIEW: Detailed design anchors confident Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? at Canadian Stage

Tasked for the second time in a year with filling the titanic canvas of the Bluma Appel Theatre, director Brendan Healy opts for hundreds of little strokes over a single massive one.

By Liam Donovan