George Krissa and Hailey Gillis in “Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812”, Photo by Dahlia Katz
I’ve been sleeping on this musical for the better part of a decade. In preparation for this Canadian premiere, presented by Crow’s Theatre and The Musical Stage Company, I listened to the cast album for the first time a few weeks ago. And, oh boy, did I ever fall hard for it! Fixating on an 70-page segment of Tolstoy’s War and Peace, Dave Malloy’s Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812 is a heady blend of musical styles that gives this Russian classic contemporary resonance.
The plot revolves around the unfolding drama in an upper crust Moscow community when the young and impressionable Natasha (Hailey Gillis) meets an attractive and charming scoundrel, Anatole (George Krissa). Their affair squanders her engagement to the noble soldier Andrey (Marcus Nance). The scandal affects extended family and friends who all have skin in the game. Witnessing all this in his angst-ridden middle-age, the good natured yet deeply dissatisfied Pierre (Evan Buliung) is forced to confront his own wasted potential. True to form, turmoil and hijinks ensue.
An opening prologue establishes the characters while also poking self-aware fun at the convolutions of Russian literature. The reduction of these complex people into single adjectives (young, good, hot, fierce…) is a useful primer, but it also establishes a primary conceit of this adaptation—and an aspect I find especially funny and compelling: as theatrical manifestations, these characters are fully aware of the tropes they’re embodying. They narrate their actions, comment on their own misguided judgements, and contextualize it all while simultaneously in the throes of melancholia, anger, and lust.
Director Chris Abraham’s virtuosic production is a kinetic, emotionally charged and persistently intimate spectacle. With their immersive set, Julie Fox and Josh Quinlan create a sumptuous and meta-theatrical space—a world of red velvet curtains, gold bannisters and crystal sconces. A square turntable centre stage is a dizzying focal point, enhancing the sense of relentless entwining. In a dazzling yet eerie visual, the whole back wall is a vast mirror that has lost its luster, offering a murky reflection of the action and audience.
The decadent chandeliers are particularly scintillating as Kimberly Purtell’s lighting spills through the beads of glass. Strip lights flickering along the edges of the catwalk amplify the core aesthetic fusion—the trappings of 19th century aristocracy with contemporary dance club vibes. With elegant dresses and fur lined coats, Ming Wong’s costumes expand the ostentatious facade.
Underneath all this grandeur, a wretched pathos pervades. As the sordid tale unfolds, this large and unruly ensemble flail about in defiance of their abject humanity. The drinking, the dancing, the fancy furnishings—these are a dubious barricade against sadness, regret and mortality. And everyone knows it. The great irony is that this sensuality is both a distraction from life and the essence of it.
The mise en scène is bursting with lush and evocative atmosphere. The gently falling snow at key moments is a particularly lovely flourish. Some light-hearted, boisterous scenes feature endearing audience interaction. Camille Eanga-Selenge’s portrayal of Natasha’s very concerned confidante Sonya was a poignant highlight for me. In particular, her lament “Sonya Alone” is the number that brought me to full tears—“…because I miss my friend” hit with such emotive force. Buliung’s urgent and grounded rendition of “Dust and Ashes” is another haunting stand-out. “Is this how I die? Pretending and preposterous and dumb?” is a lyric that has lodged itself firmly in my psyche.
And, of course, Anatole is an outrageously entertaining heel. Krissa plays up the knowing, seductive posturing with a playful nudge and wink. We know he’s the worst, he telegraphs it, but we can’t help blushing whenever he glances our way. Similarly, Natasha’s irresponsible behaviour is never glorified, but Gillis is so guileless and impassioned, we allow ourselves to root for her and revel in the thrill of youthful infatuation.
Things don’t go so well for anyone here, and yet… there is a glimmer in all the gloom. The finale, which features the titular comet, provides an exhilarating surge of hope. I left the theatre misty eyed, breathless and inspired.
Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812
running December 5, 2023 to January 21, 2024
Streetcar Crowsnest, Guloien Theatre (345 Carlaw Avenue)
run time: 2 hours, 30 minutes (including intermission)
The company of “Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812”, Photo by Dahlia Katz