I have to admit, when I first heard that something called Famous Puppet Death Scenes was coming to Vancouver, I erroneously thought it was a show of famous death scenes, re-enacted by puppets (think Old Yeller, or the ending of Se7en).
So imagine my delight when I discovered it was actually famous puppet death scenes, from puppet shows, re-enacted by the legendary Old Trouts of Calgary. It was even more wonderful to realize that these death scenes aren’t actually “famous”, but rather fictional scenes from made-up shows of the creators’ own imaginings.
It’s a breathtaking, side-splitting display of childhood fantasy made macabre and malevolent, with just enough existential mockery (and blood and guts) for us big kids.
Broken down into vignettes, most no more than 90 seconds in length, you’re treated to the climax of almost two dozen imaginary puppet shows from throughout the centuries. Wink.
To do this well (and, boy, do they ever) the Old Trouts have had to picture not only the Bate’s Motel shower scene, but the entire Hitchcockian production that surrounds it to invent authentically humorous, horrifying, or heartfelt deaths.
Then, they have had to painstakingly render unique puppets with enough soul to carry the essence of each scene.
From “The Feverish Heart by Nordo Frot”, to the absolutely unforgettable “Bipsy’s Mistake” or “The Ballad of Edward Grue by Samuel Groanswallow” you are quite literally watching puppets get smashed, flayed, and shot to smithereens. Other deaths, however, are more oblique – a shroud of bubbles, a sleeping woman, a stormy night.
One moment where you could feel the collective breath of the theatre exhale involves just the eye of a whale. In the time it takes for it to slowly close, your every fibre is invested in the sadness of his eternal sleep.
In another harrowing scene, a tragic episode of domestic violence unfolds within the pages of a storybook.
Fret not, however; the majority of the show makes light of death, and our innate fear of it.
Be warned though: for this latest run, presented by the Cultch but performed at the York (and sponsored quite appropriately by Dignity Memorial), you should choose your seats wisely, as the balcony offers a bird’s eye view of the puppetry action. It was kind of thrilling to see who was pulling the strings, but if you prefer to pretend that the puppets are truly dying at their own hands, and not the hands of the brilliant and besuited actors playing them, then plan accordingly.
But, no matter what, go – no, race – to their deaths.
• Famous Puppet Death Scenes runs until April 19. Tickets from $19 at TheCultch.com.
