Shaun Smyth as Jan, John Kirkpatrick as Milan and Cyrus Lane as Ferdinand. Photo by Cylla Von Tiedeman.
Rock ‘n’ Roll
Canadian Stage
Company Written by Tom Stoppard
Directed by Donna Feore
Featuring Fiona Reid, Shaun Smyth, and Kenneth Welsh
Runs until October 24 at Bluma Appel Theatre
By Daina Valiulis
A story based on Czechoslovakia’s history from 1968 to 1990 and the country’s struggles against socialism, Rock ‘n’ Roll features Jan (Shaun Smyth), a rock music fanatic and protégé of British Marxist professor, Max (Kenneth Welsh). As socialism begins to crack during the spring of 1968 in Prague, Jan returns to his homeland and champions the radical Czech rock band The Plastic People of the Universe, as well as other writers, musicians, and artists who fight for the liberal cause, before the Soviets move back in to squash it. (Of course, it ultimately returns by 1990 when Czechoslovakia becomes a democratic country.)
Tom Stoppard’s inspiration for this piece rose from his fascination with Syd Barrett, former Pink Floyd frontman, ousted from the band in 1968 because he was a drug-addled mess. Barrett went into seclusion in Cambridge, cultivating his garden and riding his bike as he aged, turning from the “piper at the gates of dawn” (as Vanity Fair once called him) who appears to Esme (Alex Paston-Beesley/Fiona Reed) in a vision in the play, into a sad, tired old man named Roger (his real name). It is Barrett’s story that carries Rock ‘n’ Roll through all the complicated dialogue and discussion of political ideals and socialism, which, while interesting, challenging, and complex, was also a bit heavy-handed and complicated.
The balance between the stories of Max and Eleanor and Jan and Esme was at times overwhelmingly intellectual, especially in the first half of the play, which, unless you are a poli-sci or philosophy major, was a complex web of arguments between characters that was difficult to follow. Emotional scenes, like when Eleanor (also Fiona Reed) breaks down from the stress of her failing struggle with cancer and having just watched her husband shamelessly flirt with a student of hers, ring hollow and further add to the confusion of how all of these threads — the rock ‘n’ roll music, the politics, and the characters’ relationships — are tied together.
Another contributing factor: the actors have no mics, and it’s a big space. At times, it was very difficult to hear the dialogue and the actors’ efforts to project made the acting stagey.
The second half of the story begins in 1987, and it feels as if a great weight has been lifted as connections are revealed between the characters. The elements set up in the first half of the play begin to pay off. For example, what links Esme and Jan across time and distance (Cambridge and Czechoslovakia respectively) is their fanatical love of music. Through socialism and revolution, marriage, parenthood, hippie drug culture and divorce, Esme sends Jan the music that she loves, most notably Pink Floyd (pre-1968). When Jan finally returns to Cambridge in 1990 to visit his former mentor, Max, and his daughter, the love he and Esme have quietly cultivated over the years flourishes. A great scene occurs toward the end when Jan leaves, then tentatively returns and shyly asks Esme if she will come to Prague with him, to which Esme immediately replies:
“Yes.”
“Now?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“To Prague?”
“Yes.”
And it’s as simple as that. The second half is where the play’s heart resides, and the audience gets the payoff. But because the two halves are not equally balanced, the emotional payoffs of the second half don’t have the same effect they might have had with more attention in the first. Though not a must-see, the show offers a web of complexity in its multiple themes of politics, music, time, and love. Make sure you brush up on your Czech history beforehand.
