Laura Piccinin and Sydney Marion in Apothecary | Photo by Seanna Kennedy
Presented by Pitchin’in Productions
Oh, dear. I wanted to like this. And I tried. It has talented people involved and some really cool ideas, but I have…concerns. So many concerns—conceptual, performative, dramaturgical. I guess, let’s just get into it:
Created by Laura Piccinin and Allison Wither, Apothecary is a musical with feminist themes. Its fanciful premise posits a magical space where women in need can come to be healed or supported. It is run by a Lady doctor (Piccinin) from the past, who is being shadowed by Tilly (Sydney Marion), a young woman from our current time who is hoping to take over the—not business, really, because they constantly reinforce that there is “no charge” for their services—I’ll call it a mission.
And so, a series of women (Callan Forrester, Lauryn Hall, Mona Hillis, Jodi Jahnke, Sydney Marion, Anique Mercier, Ayokunmi Oladesu, and Ashlie White) wander into and out of the space for a variety of elixirs, balms, sympathy, advice and gender make-overs for their infections, fraught circumstances, and, yes, one even for her monthly trouble. Each woman is from a different time period—from medieval to the present—and their woman problems are related to some era-specific misogyny inflicted upon them.
One of the ideas that has the most potential here is the restrictions placed upon these women healers. They cannot use any substance or knowledge that isn’t available to any individual woman in her specific time period. Seems like that could lead to some juicy conflict, but… doesn’t really, not in any significant way. There is little conflict here at all, just vague world building and lady props for the concept.
And a Man (Benjamin Earl) who suddenly intrudes. (I don’t consider that a spoiler because he’s there in the program, so you know he’s showing up.) I understand his use in the plot, but not the purpose of the plot point he represents other than, perhaps, for us to understand that…men also have problems?
It feels a little cheap that racism and gender dysphoria can be vanquished by a single musical number each. And I have so many questions, not expansive ones about the human condition, but just to bridge the gaps in its internal logic. How do these women find this space? Can only women in need see it? No, the dude in need found it. Are these women not baffled or even curious about all the strange outfits? And what about those things that keep falling from the ceiling?
For a Fringe production, the set is impressively full. A series of decorated flats, shelves and drawers of remedies and potions juxtaposed with foliage, it feels persuasively quaint and rustic, the decorative greenery giving the impression of enchanted flora. The singing is great, but much of Cass Van Wyck’s direction, for a piece of musical theatre, is rather flat. This is surprising to me since the children’s show she helmed last Fringe, Patty Picker, was just bursting with buoyant theatrical dynamics. There is also a moment of choreography for a full ensemble number here that is…a choice.
This show’s heart is in the right place. And everyone concerned could turn this into a compelling, insightful piece. In its current form, it feels like a sketchy proof of concept.
