URBAN TALES UNLEASHES A TIME OF MERRY HELL
Urban Tales X: An Undead Xmas is presented Saturday, Thursday, Friday and Dec. 17 at 8 p.m. at Centaur Theatre, 453 St-François-Xavier St. Tickets: $22; seniors and those under 30 $18; students $16. Call 514-2883161 or visit centaurtheatre.com It’s time to get your grinch on again at Centaur Theatre as Urban Tales returns to plop something unseemly into the punch bowl as an antidote to all that warm and fuzzy festive cheer.
Last year it was all about sex, with the cabaret-style playing area turned into a sleazy fleshpot. This time, gloomy gravestones and a passageway done up like a skeleton-encrusted catacomb signal that we’re in the world of Grand Guignol horror — An Undead Xmas, as the show is subheaded.
After Harry Standjofski — director, musician and writer of one of the tales — delivers his cryptkeeper welcome, he ascends to the upper level, straps on an electric guitar and accompanies his bassplaying son Mikaïl StandjofskiFigols for the traditional musical intros to each monologue.
First out of that boneyard tunnel is Stephanie Costa, narrating Arthur Holden’s tale of ill-advised foraging for free Christmas trees out in the wilds. It’s a nicely understated piece that plays Native American pantheism for spooky laughs, Costa easing us into the mood and drawing us in with a round-the-campfire-style delivery. If it could do with a little more diabolical clout, Jane Wheeler more than makes up for that next with her electrifying turn as a nervy, mousy housewife jolting into bouts of demonic rage.
The gist of Alexandria Haber’s enjoyably demented story is that hubby is off having an office-party fling while dressed as Santa. But Haber has something more sinister up her sleeve.
Then it’s Haber’s real-life other half, Alain Goulem, performing his own memorably titled piece I Saw Mommy Eating Santa Claus, about a conscience-stricken zombie struggling against the spirit of Christmas consumption as he stumbles around Montreal. Here is the indisputable highlight of the evening, with Goulem giving what may well be one of the most spectacular performances in this theatre all year. Decked out in a mouldering suit and with guts slopping out of his side, he gets maximum laughs out of the tricky business of keeping his dignity intact as his body falls to bits. But he also invests his undead hero with a tragic grace reminiscent of Boris Karloff, right up to the deliciously to-die-for punchline.
Standjofski2-Figols, as the musical duo are called, top-and-tail Goulem’s magnificent performance with a spiky rendition of The Walking Dead’s theme.
Viewers of that series will be familiar with its tendency to follow thrilling set pieces with meandering, patience-testing stretches. Unfortunately, that’s kind of what happens here. L.M. Leonard’s tale of a paranormal investigator is overwrought and lacking focus, though it’s saved by Danette MacKay’s powerhouse performance, as well as by some startling imagery and some very good one-liners.
Standjofski’s tale of nighttime whisperings and visitations in the marital bed initially has the subtlety of an M.R. James ghost story, with Daniel Brochu nicely underplaying a bemused, increasingly tetchy academic. But its sharp turn into shrill Stephen King territory breaks the spell.
The biggest miscalculation of the evening is ending with Yvan Bienvenue’s tale of a little boy’s encounter with an elderly neighbour. Bienvenue, who created the Urban Tales show (as Contes urbains at Théâtre La Licorne), is known for cheerfully going to the extremes of bad taste, so there was a bit of an “uh-oh” moment as his story unfolded. As it turns out, it’s both unexpectedly whimsical and, in the evening’s ghostly context, blandly predictable.
Michel Perron makes for an avuncular narrator, and his parting “Merry Christmas” is heartfelt and sweet. But isn’t that what we came here to avoid?
If only they’d saved Goulem’s fetid, foul-mouthed and rip-roaring zombie for the end.