Reviews and recommendations are unbiased and products are independently selected. Postmedia may earn an affiliate commission from purchases made through links on this page.
Rosebud’s Studio Theatre programs much edgier fare than the mainstage Opera House Theatre.
Plays don’t come much more blatantly controversial and thought provoking than Wallace Shawn’s 1991 solo show, The Fever.
An affluent socialite, known only as the narrator, recalls an unnerving experience in an unnamed, impoverished country on the brink of revolution. Played by Heather Pattengale, the narrator is female and that makes it even more harrowing.
The rebels have knocked out one of the main electrical towers, so all she has is a candle to light her dilapidated hotel room which is represented by the dirty toilet and soiled tile floor. On the other side of the stage is a comfortable chair, matching footstool and end table which represent her own apartment. Brad G. Graham’s subtle lighting design highlights the contrast of the locales.
Shawn’s script is all about contrasts. When our narrator looks out the window of her hotel, she marvels at the beauty of the mountains and their green valleys. But when she looks down, all she sees are the filthy streets.
It was naivety that brought the narrator to the unnamed country. She met someone on a previous journey who was wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the country’s name. That person was so gregarious, and happy, she figured it would be a great place to visit. Then she found herself in a country ruined by poverty and revolution.
Shawn’s theme seems to be for everyone of privilege to wake up and smell, not the flowers, but the sewage, rot and poverty that is all around us, even in our more secure countries. He wants us to take a long lingering look at the homeless, and the beggars in our own cities, and see them as a warning of what could become the country his narrator was trapped in.
When the narrator saw a beggar approaching her, she knew she was going to give her some money, but didn’t know how much she should give her. She wonders if she should give her everything in her purse, so she could feel what it’s like to have nothing. Shawn is not subtle about the guilt he feels the privileged should feel for having been born safer, healthier and richer.
Before it played in theatres in New York and Los Angeles, Shawn used to present it as a parlor piece in the homes of his wealthy friends hoping to make them feel far more uncomfortable than they would be in a theatre. When it premiered in London, it was performed, not in a theatre, but in one of the exclusive suites in the luxurious Mayfair Hotel, where the 25 patrons snacked on chocolate covered strawberries and champagne. It played a sold out run and must have been quite a shocker with some of the descriptive dialogue.
Pattengale’s tour-de-force performance, filled with nuances, is riveting. But I still felt, at times, that I was being bullied and indoctrinated rather than enlightened and entertained. As directed by Bronwyn Steinberg and performed by Pattengale, it’s a rare theatrical experience, but one prospective audience members should be prepared for.
The Fever runs until Aug. 31.