Istvan Dugalin ➤

Paul Gross, Hailey Gillis, Martha Burns and Rylan Wilkie in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? | Photo by Dahlia Katz

It’s difficult to avoid certain ubiquitous words when describing Edward Albee’s 1962 play about marital dysfunction and middle-class malaise. Classic, iconic, searing—those descriptors slide almost too comfortably into place; it is, of course, all of those things and happens to be one of my favourites. Canadian Stage’s production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is my third live experience of it. Though it has, by far, the highest production value of that trio, it is the least resonant.  

Firstly, I am disappointed that it has been staged at the Bluma Appel instead of the Berkeley Street Theatre, a more suitably intimate venue. There are some plays—this is one of them—where I want to see the sweat beading on foreheads and catch every laboured breath. I understand, though, the box office opportunity the cast provides here. And director Brandon Healy’s production does give it a certain grand, expressionistic scale, but it has a sluggish pace and feels a little hollow.

As George and Martha, Paul Gross and Martha Burns, themselves a couple, bring a palpable familiarity to this volatile domestic partnership. As the playfully vicious barbs fly, we can recognize the banter as the loving yet dangerous game it is. They are also right at home in Julie Fox’s costumes. Martha’s gaudy, tight gold pants and George’s drab, loose cardigan distill and amplify their natures—an older woman trying too hard to be hip and her husband disappearing into the furniture. Gross has a distinctive allure in this frumpy, unkept mode and Burns’ vulgar charisma is a warm, vigorous spectacle.

Rylan Wilkie (filling in for Mac Fyfe while he recovers from an illness) and Hailey Gillis portray Nick and Honey, a younger couple whom Martha has invited over for a nightcap following a faculty social. At opening, Wilkie (with the company for only five days) was not yet off book; though, given the circumstances, he was impressively present. He does a fine job of finessing the script, hidden inside a book, into his performance. While it is obvious what is happening, I was able to project some narrative purpose into the prop, which became a sort of token of Nick’s irksome blend of arrogance and insecurity. I imagined he had brought some reading material to this socially mandated visit, as both a crutch and passive aggressive gesture.

As George and Martha subject Nick and Honey to their toxic sport, everyone gets increasingly drunk, though Honey in particular doesn’t hold her liquor well. Honey is a tricky part; she spends a lot of time tipsy, passed out or off-stage sick, slipping in and out of lucidity and yet we need to believe that certain dramatic revelations are landing in her fuzzy consciousness. Gillis not only has inspired comic timing, waggishly insinuating herself into conversations, she also tugs at our emotions when the situation intrudes on Honey’s well-guarded doubts.   

Though Albee’s dialogue is naturalistic, a fine balance of cleverness and mundanity, and the performances are suitably nuanced, Healy’s production has an incongruously stylized aesthetic. Fox’s set is too wide and high to be realistic, but that isn’t the intention anyway. Functionally, it serves to fill in the entirety of the large stage and it does so with expressionistic panache. The massive back wall with its depressing wallpaper is an especially dizzying sight, intensified by the angular slashes of Kimberly Purtell’s lighting, spilling out from the suggested hallways flanking each side. One full wall is a vast mirror, furthering the impression of this domestic space as a sort of surrealist nightmare canvas for drunken psychological games.

The central area of the set—a couch and end tables—revolves at key moments. For the most part, I found this a distracting flourish, though there is a haunting scene in the third act where it serves up some striking imagery: As George cryptically walks an opposing circle around the other characters, the spinning builds momentum for his devastating bombshell. 

Though it often felt as if I was straining to see this story through a tunnel of stylistic embellishment, there are plenty of wonderful moments where the cast and creative team harness the power of Albee’s writing, transcending the artifice of this production and slicing through the 63 years since this play was penned.

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
running January 18 to February 16, 2025
Bluma Appel Theatre (27 Front Street East)
running time: 3 hours, 30 minutes (including intermission)

Paul Gross, Martha Burns, Hailey Gillis and Rylan Wilkie in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? | Photo by Dahlia Katz