The audience ranges from small kids, wrapped in the grasp of their parents, to greying gentlemen, squinting eyes shaded by bucket hats. I borrowed a lawn chair from a friend. Others are sharing blankets. Food trucks are stationed a minute’s walk from the venue. The man in front of me pops a few Cheezies into his mouth; the dangerously dusty chips would have been contraband if we had been sitting in the Port Theatre.

~

The Island Summer Theatre Festival, put on by Artists’ Collective Theatre, featured three different shows in Nanaimo and Ladysmith across three weeks through July 22 to August 3. They promised a relaxed atmosphere for any audience looking for a fresh theatre experience.      

The set—made up of large blocks painted to look like Rubik’s Cubes, inflatable guitars, and charming tree standees—was tied off with flag garlands strung between Maffeo Sutton Park’s actual trees. The weather was just right, no matter what anyone else said about the so-called “heat.”

At 6:30 pm on the dot, a woman comes to centerstage to present the show. The front-of-house speaker set up to the side is bigger than some of the children. Unfortunately, the size does nothing to prevent it from malfunctioning.

Tanya, as she introduced herself, tries her damnedest to initiate us into the performance, but only two or so words make it through the speaker. I’m in the back row. She’s difficult to parse by the grace of her lungs alone, especially when she cuts in and out mid-word.

It was a worrisome start. Luckily, that was the worst of their technical difficulties.

I held my breath as the first cast member opened their mouth to speak, but the sound held loud and clear.

Under Amanda Cutting’s direction, Shakespeare’s classic story, As You Like It, was told with an ’80s slant—hence the inclusion of Rubik’s Cubes in the set dressing. As You Like It featured musical hits like “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor, “Cecilia” by Simon & Garfunkel, and “All The World is a Stage” by Slade. As the Songsters, Michael Joseph and Rowan O’Callaghan did the bulk of the singing throughout the 90-minute show. Both of their voices were phenomenal. It was a shame, because it was a struggle to hear them.

There was no clever timing between when lyrics were sung and when dialogue was said. Audience members whooped and cheered for the wrestlers onstage. Joseph and O’Callaghan’s beautiful voices were buried under their own backing music, which was seemingly set to the same volume as their mics. Instead of being able to appreciate any individual element, the audience was overwhelmed by noise.

Reprieve came in the form of lyrical interludes. Snippets of songs backed smaller scenes, like dance aerobics to “Dress You Up” by Madonna or entering the forest to “Listen to the Land” by Bob Moline. These pantomimes were far more digestible.

The chemistry between the cast was perhaps most obvious in the silly shenanigans they got up to in the background. Rosalind (played by Stella Keul) and Celia (played by Luci Edwards) had a natural rhythm in their dialogue, but a sincere sisterly affection in their interactions that made the two magnetic to watch. Le Beau (played by Rigby Mugridge) spent a shorter amount of time onstage but was imbued with attitude enough for everyone, the audience included. He was one of my favourites.

Truly, no member of the brilliant cast can be blamed for my feelings on the script. The humour and interpolation of modern slang appeared aimed at an older crowd…. Hip in a way that felt a little out of touch.

Most of the script stuck to the traditional Shakespeare wit, including the classic “All the world’s a stage” monologue by a captivating Yvette Dudley-Neuman in a shredded denim vest. There were also some additions of gnarly or bodacious as a reminder of the era that As You Like It takes place in.

I’m not immune to cheap comedy. I laughed when Orlando (played by Ben Francis) said, “I beseech you,” and Rosalind responded salaciously, “Oh, you do.” What was charming for the start of the first act quickly got old as it moved towards the end of the play.

The switch between Shakespeare and ’80s slang was jarring, without a functional purpose, and primarily relied on shock value. I kept asking myself why this production chose the 1980s over our current contemporary or any other decade; it made the posters more fun and the costuming more colourful, but the spin felt a lot more like a gentle nod than a tornado whisking me off to another land. Or a crutch…

Celia’s “Gag me with a spoon,” got a good laugh because of the surprise in the moment and Luci Edwards’ galled delivery. We, as the audience, are also far more familiar with 40-year-old slang than 400-year-old English.

Maybe the added lingo made the script more accessible to crowds befuddled by Shakespearean language. Maybe it was a backwards way of suggesting we read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

Regardless of how I feel about dudes, dudettes, or dance aerobics, As You Like It really was a lot of fun. When Charles mentions Robin Hood, as per Shakespeare’s original script, the audience gets a wink with a cheeky remark that it, “Sounds like a good show!” (Robin Hood: Band of Thieves is, of course, one of the other shows that Artists’ Collective Theatre put on this summer.)

It’s the little things that make a memorable performance. Celia stopped to gossip with a group of girls sitting on a picnic blanket, Oliver mocked his opponents to the front row, and Le Beau weaved between seats with a bubble wand. Letting your audience feel like they’re a part of the show is easy pickings as far as getting people to enjoy their stay, but it still takes a charming cast to make it feel natural.

The public location meant that As You Like It featured screaming children, distant car alarms, and racing sirens as ambient noise, but it also meant the waterfront was a hairsbreadth away. Passersby outside of the designated flag garland barriers slowed on their evening walks, stopping to find out why someone was being dragged around in a wagon.

The siren call of O’Callaghan and Joseph’s voices attracted the most attention. Sometimes, curious onlookers stayed until the completion of a song, detouring from their day for seconds or minutes at a time to listen in.

At the end of the show, I chatted with the friends I came with, the peers I found amongst the audience, and a few of the actors. Nothing beats laughing with a crowd. For all my gripes, the encompassing sense of community was—and I’m wincing writing this—totally radical, dude.

That’s the most important thing.