The cast of The Threepenny Opera | Photo by Clarc Manglicmot
There are some productions that feel tailored to my specific sensibilities, that check all of my boxes, then slyly add a few I hadn’t realized needed attention. Brecht is a very theatre-nerd sort of obsession to have, of course, but socialistic themes, deeply considered theatrical artifice and intimate spectacle are my jam. Over a decade ago, I covered an innovative production of John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger which fully astonished me and was my introduction to the directorial dexterity of Anita La Selva. And now here she is staging The Threepenny Opera for me (and you, I guess). Presented by Unbridled Theatre Collective in the bohemian coziness of VideoCabaret, it’s an exhilarating aesthetic achievement.
Based on John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera, Bertolt Brecht, Kurt Weill and Elisabeth Hauptmann’s classic of Epic Theatre, The Threepenny Opera is a satirical penny dreadful set in the heart of Victorian London’s seedy underworld. Rife with sex, murder and corruption, it is a tale of survival that takes aim at our mercenary potential. Simon Stephen’s adaptation is brutal, hilarious and sensational—retaining the essential capitalist critique and giving some characters expanded dimension. Specifically, Polly Peachum, Macheath’s new bride, proves herself a force to be reckoned with as a criminal strategist and gang leader.
With echoes of Cabaret reverberating throughout the space, the framing device cloisters us in a sultry, steampunk nightclub. Sporting a wild array of outfits designed by Michelle Vanderheyden, which blend styles to stretch this story across time, the actors chat us up before pulling us down into this dark fable. The heady fusion of leather, chintz and noir gangster chic paints a stunning, theatrical portrait of abject humanity. Leslie Wright’s set frames this very sexy ensemble with an industrial backdrop of rusted and grimy panels, modular scaffolding, cords and pulleys. A cheesy, bedazzled crescent moon gets flown in and out with clunky, meta-theatrical aplomb. String lights, festooned above the audience, enhance the whole vibe and feel like an ambient counterpoint to the ghastly shenanigans unfolding before us.
As Macheath (Mack the Knife), Jacob Klick has a suitably suave and greasy style. The purple dress shirt, opened wide to expose his chest, is a flashy, flamboyant touch. Surrounded by Macheath’s gang, Madison Buchanan’s Polly Peachum, in her floral good-girl dress and vulnerable manner, seems primed for an assault, though we quickly discover she can not only hold her own, but win the respect of Macheath’s entourage. First capturing their imaginations with her eerie rendition of “Pirate Jenny,” she goes on to keep their books and inspire loyalty far surpassing Macheath’s capabilities.
Buchanan’s dynamic with Jasmine Jenkinson’s Lucy as they compete for Macheath’s romantic attentions is deliciously snippy and sniping. As Mr. JJ Peachum, king of the beggers, Liam Armstrong is a vulgar and domineering carnival barker. He pairs well with Aria De Castro’s Mrs. Peachum, who matches his crass energy—a delightfully grotesque pair of bullies. Maggie Tavares’ Tiger Brown—Macheath’s former war buddy and covert lover, now a corrupt police officer and partner in crime—is a tough and charismatic frenemy. A highlight for me is Cameron Helmkay’s simultaneously wretched and intrepid portrayal of Jenny. Her “Pimp’s Ballad” duet with Macheath, where they affectionately reminisce about their abusive, co-dependent brothel life together, is one of my favourite numbers and they nail it.
Macheath’s gang—Kaden Klodt, Sean Lee, Nicole Lynch and Chris Otchere—are a delightfully eccentric lot—equally persuasive as a group and colourfully distinct individuals. Rhys Parker’s Balladeer has an understated mystique as our narrator, slipping into a couple other roles here and there because that’s what trickers be up to. The remaining ensemble—Vandana Maharaj, Zoe Saum and Joelle Salsa—are also magnetic as they flesh out the fringes of story. Salsa’s turn as the goofy Officer Smith is especially endearing. An authentic camaraderie sells the symbiosis, antagonism and desperate grasping of this community of criminals—both above and beneath the law. They’re awful and I miss them all terribly.
Macheath, a killer and a rapist, is a nasty piece of work, but we sort of root for him anyway; we’re drawn to his devious antics—a vicarious pleasure. After all the scheming, duplicity, torture and opportunism—that’s entertainment, folks!—Macheath winds up on the gallows. In a just society, this is right and proper; but as we were warned upfront, there will be no moralizing here. A deus ex machina intrudes to deliver a brazen parody of a happy ending, gleefully thrown in our faces—a cruel irony to take home with us.
With glitter confetti gore, Mike Slater’s garish and moody lighting, crisp and whimsical shadow play, and plenty of textures both visual and auditory—this is a solid Brechtian extravaganza bursting with artfully grotesque pageantry. This was made for me, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also bask in the allure of its outrageous vices.
The Threepenny Opera
running May 8 to 17, 2025
VideoCabaret (10 Busy Street)
running time: 2 hours, 45 minutes (with intermission)
The cast of The Threepenny Opera | Photos by Clarc Manglicmot