Context for this reflection: Istvan Reviews ➤ AS YOU LIKE IT (A RADICAL RETELLING)
As last year drew to a close, I discovered that at least one person holds the opinion that I have “no integrity” as a reviewer. Why? In the fall of 2021, I reviewed the Crow’s Theatre presentation of Cliff Cardinal’s Radical Retelling of As You Like It; honouring the company’s request, I didn’t reveal the true nature of his show. In revisiting my review, I’m compelled to interrogate reviewer responsibility. And, more importantly, help heighten any anticipation for the upcoming remount.
Word has since gotten out that Cardinal was not offering any new interpretation of Shakespeare, but rather a personal, provocative and immersive examination of the Indigenous experience of this country. At the time, however, audiences went into the theatre expecting an exciting new take on an old pastoral comedy.
The production was very cagey, withholding key production and cast credits with the promise that they would be revealed on-site. As we are all well accustomed to land acknowledgements, Cardinal’s opening felt familiar and unremarkable. Even as this obligatory introduction exceeded five minutes, we understood that the situation called for more generosity of spirit.
Cardinal is Indigenous. Unmarked graves of residential school victims had been recently discovered. Theatre was also just beginning to open up to live audiences after more than a year. It felt important to take some time to fully acknowledge, to break from convention.
What followed would have hit differently for each individual. As his “land acknowledgement” took more than twenty minutes, thirty minutes… each of us—in our own time, in our own way—realized that Cardinal’s heartfelt, playful, angry time with us was the show. And for those settlers in the audience, there was room for a lot of feelings as the theatrical rug was slowly pulled out from under us—confusion, irritation, anger, laughter, lumps in the throat, and understanding.
Immediately afterwards, media received an email requesting that we not spoil the surprise. There was no embargo placed on us; we were free to respond as we felt we must, but there was an imploring tone I couldn’t ignore. And I felt there was a legitimate purpose to keeping potential audiences in the dark.
Some reviewers posted fake reviews of a show that did not exist, some wrote about the actual show with widely varying degrees of appreciation for its misdirection and mischief. After a long, fraught deliberation, my offering fell somewhere in the middle. I didn’t want to invent a bogus production and employ those phoney publicity stills of actors in Elizabethan dress. That felt particularly lazy and irresponsible, but letting the cat fully out of the bag also felt too easy.
That person who believes I have “no integrity” must feel swindled, made a fool of, disrespected—by both Cardinal and those reviewers that kept the secret. I imagine they feel entitled to… the truth. They could not have known just how much ideological stress went into the conception and crafting of my review. Feeling a responsibility to artists, patrons, and myself; this particular piece challenged my allegiance to all three.
I reached out to several people—good friends and theatre artists—to help me navigate this particular project. I finally landed on an approach that satisfied my own sense of integrity. Eschewing the specifics, I aimed to convey an abstracted experience of the show. Reading between the lines, people would get the sense that something was up with this “As You Like It.” The open minded, adventurous sort would be intrigued; more conservative, hesitant theatre-goers would be warned away. I tried to indicate that it would be a potentially uncomfortable, challenging, evocative experience.
I took my cues from the show’s publicity, which was actually quite clever in its subtle hinting. As You Like It takes place in a forest—a bright, giddy, whimsical story. The image used to represent Cardinal’s “radical retelling” (seen above) was slyly motivic: tree roots, an acknowledgement of land—gnarled, dark and foreboding. This is not an image that evokes cheerful, light entertainment.
I hoped to continue, in my review, this very sneaky foreshadowing of artistic intent—to signal to attentive, engaged readers aspects of the show’s disruption of complacency and privilege. Could people feel misled? Sure. I was confident in my approach, though, knowing that Crow’s Theatre had specifically stated that any disgruntled patrons would be given a full refund. That was the clincher.
With the recent suggestion that my approach lacked “integrity,” those nagging doubts resurfaced. What is a reviewer’s responsibility? What is more honourable—exposing the ruse for full transparency or maintaining it to bolster the subversion? There is no easy answer. I followed my instinct.
I found Cardinal’s theatrical bait-and-switch anarchic, tender, seething and raw. And funny too. I believed I could give readers insight without robbing them of that magical experience of gradually discovering something on their own terms. The surprise was a vital part of that specific experience. As a writer, my creativity was tested. As a reviewer, I was forced out of my comfort zone. My ego was at stake. Like all critics, I have my own ideological and artistic baggage. And I want the opportunity to showcase my skills.
This request—to keep the secret—rattled me as much as Cardinal’s performance. I concluded that an industry standard and my own personal, specific brand of criticism might not be the most valuable offering on the table in this situation.
Cardinal’s The Land Acknowledgement, or As You Like It is being presented by Mirvish this coming March. I hope it welcomes and provokes many. I wish future audiences could go into it with the same false expectations, though the opportunity for that sort of thrilling subversion has passed.
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