There’s some Peter Pan, a little A Midsummer Night’s Dream, even The Secret Garden seems to be rattling about in this tale of a mischievous faerie boy, Nix (Davinder Malhi), guarding a forest, pranking intruders and playing games with his human friend, a girl armed Rose (Qianna MacGilchrist). Lena Coakley’s novel is now on my ever-growing list. Paula Wing’s theatrical adaptation is intelligent and charming, as is director Stephen Colella’s staging of Wicked Nix for Young People’s Theatre.
Ting-Huan 挺歡 Christine Urquhart’s impressionistic forest set is wide and inviting. All of the elements are broad and stylized, even a little synthetic, but the overall gestalt is whimsically buoyant. It really comes to life in the moody night scenes, under Rebecca Picherack’s eerie, textured lighting. The costumes (also designed by Urquhart) are innovative. The green, rapscallion aesthetic of Nix’s knitted, frayed and cobbled-together ensemble is especially Puck-like. And Malhi’s portrait of a rambunctious, high strung woodland sprite is very endearing. His giddiness is infectious as he bounds about. Even when stationary, he’s kinetic—fidgeting and bursting unfocused intention.
His human buddy, Rose the Wise, shares his energy (MacGilchrist is an ebullient spectacle in her own right!), but rather than being channelled into tricks, it fuels her curiosity and sense of adventure. There are things that happened between faeries and humans that her mother (Christine Horne) isn’t quite ready to share with her. She builds up their mystique, ritualistically putting food out as a dutiful offering, ensuring Rose wears the daisy-chain neckless—a talisman to ward off their nasty intentions.
The object of Nix’s frustration is a Man-People (James Dallas Smith) who has built cabin in the forest Nix is meant to be guarding from intruders. He’s a pretty resourceful, chill guy. Though he isn’t easily scared away by Nix’s bombastic threats or even his actual sabotaging efforts—stink weed in water and a garden reduced to barren twigs. The Man-People gives as good as he gets. They both have a sort of “magic” that is clunky yet effective. When the two finally come face to face, Nix is forced to confront a surprising truth about their relationship and his own identity.
As Rose’s Mummy, Horne is appropriately watchful and aware, warm yet firm, but something about their dynamic seemed off to me, some stilted vibes that I couldn’t quite suss out. In her turn as the Faerie Queen though, she brings some fabulous diva energy intensified by her glorious entrance, during which the set also has some surprises of its own. Raha Javanfar’s sound design gives her a creepy, preternatural aura by augmented her voice with a tinny choral echo of her faerie subjects. The flickering LED lights embedded in the set reinforce the mystical ambiance.
A fourth character, Mr. Green (Michael Spencer-Davis), is also a pretty chill dude, with some hilarious one-liners. I loved the way his authority is indicated when the Faerie Queen threatens the flora and fauna he guards. The command and threat in his voice during their interaction hints at a more intimidating presence that rarely manifests and a fraught history between them.
The mythology and world-building feels affectionately trope-y—with ominous significance assigned to places like the summer forest, the meadow and events like the midsummer festival. There is even a sci-fi, time-dilation component to the narrative! I alway dug that sort of thing as a kid. I still dig that sort of thing.
After a mildly frightful confrontation with the Faerie Queen, the finale has our characters re-evaluating home. The final moment between Smith and Malhi is a poignant, understated button on the whole affair. Wicked Nix is a playful and heart-warming fable that has some chewy thematic heft.


