Olivier Normand in The Far Side of the Moon | Photo by Li Wang, courtesy of Shanghai Jing_an Theatre Festival
Robert Lepage is an exceptionally imaginative director. Harnessing technology, theatrical illusion and visual whimsy, his productions are cinema-theatrical, stirring spectacles. I haven’t even seen that much, quiet frankly, but what I’ve caught has prompted many quite genuine oh, wows! An Ex Machina creation presented by Canadian Stage, The Far Side of the Moon is teeming with his typically clever and surprising stagecraft. I did struggle with this one pretty significantly, though, for most of its runtime.
Taking us back to the Cold War, Lepage has crafted a scenario of two brothers in Quebec City dealing with the recent death of their mother as U.S.-Soviet tensions mount. Within the episodic structure of the piece, there are some pretty lengthy info-dump sequences that shed light on key scientific figures, astronauts, cosmonauts and concepts. The moon, in all its mystique, figures prominently.
Lepage, with his performance and design collaborators, has crafted fluid and visually dynamic transitions that are, I found, sometimes more interesting than the scenes themselves, and certainly more compelling than the two brothers—both played by Olivier Normand. He has plenty of charisma and some virtuosic physicality, but Lepage’s writing here heavily features a device that I find especially alienating—where a lone actor suggests both sides of a conversation through explicit and constant parroting. (“How am I feeling?” “I tell you, I’m fine.”) While this may not be frustrating for you, I tire of it very quickly.
Though dialogue tried my patience, the puppetry and miniatures fully charmed me—tiny astronauts appearing in unexpected places or a little lunar capsule floating across the stage. The moon is one of several round objects which take different forms from scene to scene. In this lovely visual motif—the moon is symbolically present in a variety of guises—a gold fish bowl (with a gold fish darting about!), a clock, and a circular metallic portal that represents both a washing machine and space craft.
The stark set design features a series of panels on a track that can be realigned to break up the space into dynamic visual pockets. A large truss ascends and descends to further expand or collapse the playing space. A wide mirrored panel flies in and out, figuring most dramatically in the show’s truly stunning finale—where perspective trickery creates the illusion of a lyrical, anti-gravity reverie. This mesmerizing image is the payoff to a series of more restrained yet beautiful moments throughout, where mundane activities like laundry, ironing and awkward conversation are juxtaposed with the quiet grandeur of space travel. Archival footage and photographic scenic elements are projected onto these panels and suggest fragments of documented history and physical environments interlaced in a dreamlike procession.
In many ways, this seems like a solo show, though it absolutely is not. Because they are mostly hidden from view throughout, I was amazed to see the crowd of background performers and crew come out for the curtain call. Dressed in black, they are responsible for so much of the compelling illusions that define the poetic majesty of Lepage’s vision.
It’s certainly very cool, though my attention often wandered during scenes and I wish, overall, that I cared more about these brothers and how they fit into the political and scientific landscape of the era. Even the magic of the effects sometimes feel weirdly diminished, as if you’re seeing all of this at a distance. I felt like a detached observer—uninvolved yet intrigued and impressed. That final episode, though, is truly astonishing and far more resonant than most of what lead up to it.
The Far Side of the Moon
November 1 to November 16, 2025
Bluma Appel Theatre
(27 Front Street East)
2 hours (no intermission)
Olivier Normand in The Far Side of the Moon | Photo by Li Wang, courtesy of Shanghai Jing_an Theatre Festival