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STRATFORD -- In satire as in spectator sport, there's a very fine line between the fun and a flat-out free-for-all.
And frankly, the Stratford Festival's production of Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, a satirical take on the hypocrisy of London high-life circa 1614, ventures so far beyond that line that the chances of it finding its way home without the aid of GPS by the end of the summer are slim indeed.
Bartholomew Fair opened Thursday in the Tom Patterson Theatre under the direction of Festival General Director, Antoni Cimolino.
As its title implies, it tells the story of a single day at an infamous London fair, peopled by both the well and the base-born -- all behaving badly.
Our 'ticket' to this fair comes via young Bartholomew Cokes (played by Trent Pardy) who arrives at the home of one John Littlewit (Matt Steinberg), a Puritan and an aspiring playwright, to pick up a marriage licence.
Fresh from the country, Cokes is to wed Grace Wellborn (Alana Hawley) the wealthy ward of his brother-in-law, Justice Overdo (Tom McCamus) -- but before the nuptials, he wants to visit the street fair honouring St. Bartholomew.
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And so he does, trailing his fiance, his sister (Dalal Badr), his manservant (Brian Tree), a congregation of Puritans (led by Juan Chioran as the hypocritical Zeal-of-the-Land Busy) and the assembled audience in his wake.
There, he will meet everyone from cut-purses to puppet masters, horse-dealers to hustlers and whores, and be used and abused by all of them.
In the end, however, it is only Cokes himself and the audience he represents, who remains essentially unchanged by his adventure.
As written, this is a raucous, big-hearted affair, full of bawdy humour and delicious send-ups of both factions in the struggle between the hide-bound followers of the late Oliver Cromwell and the socially cavalier followers of the restored monarch.
As played however, it is little short of chaos, as Cimolino encourages most of his actors to turn their roles into audition pieces for Saturday Night Live, larding things up with indecipherable accents, funny walks and facial ticks that almost always amuse the cast more than the audience.
Not surprisingly, what ensues is more an evocation of Bedlam than Smithfield as even seasoned veterans like Lucy Peacock, cast as the gargantuan Ursla, the pig woman, and Jonathan Goad, as a particularly caddish cavalier, embrace Cimolino's 'anything-for-a-laugh' vision. Occasional constraint, like that practised by Kelli Fox, only serves to underline the tragedy of this melee.
For the more unseasoned members of the company -- young actors like Pardy, Steinberg and Badr, as well as Jesse Aaron Dwyer and Christopher Prentice -- they treat it all as their simple due: A rollicking graduation party for alumni of the Birmingham Conservatory for Classical Theatre, wherein acting badly is the price of admission.
But even though Cimolino turns the entire three-hour-duration of Bartholomew Fair into an extended visit to a poorly conceived theatrical funhouse, he has at least ensured that it is a funhouse of the highest quality construction.
Designers Carolyn M. Smith (sets and costumes), Steven Hawkins (lighting) and Peter McBoyle (sound) conspire with composer Steven Page, choreographer Keira Loughran and fight director Todd Campbell to transform the Patterson's thrust stage into a veritable cauldron of colour and activity.
The pity is that so much of that activity is wasted effort as an accomplished but uncontrolled cast fights for individual moments in a spotlight the director either can't or won't control.
Satire has always been a dish best served fresh -- and four centuries on, one wonders if Bartholomew Fair is even stage worthy anymore.
That said, why revive it simply to throw it to the dogs -- even if the dogs are purebreds like these?