The Toronto Theatre Review: Shifting Ground’s The Drowsy Chaperone

By Ross

“Would you indulge me? Would you let me play the record for you now? I was hoping you would say yes.”

And indeed we do want that. With all our heart and soul. That question is a part of one of the smartest and sweetest openings in musical theatre. A man sits alone in the dark and asks us to join him as he listens to his favourite record. It’s nothing more than a gentle pleading voice guiding us through memory, imagination, and longing. It may be the most perfect thing imaginable, and as Martin Julien settles himself in as the proverbial “Man in Chair” in Shifting Ground Collective’s wonderfully warm and affectionate production of The Drowsy Chaperone at Theatre Passe Muraille, I couldn’t help but feel the same quiet loving anticipation that I’ve felt before, numerous times, sitting in a theatre as the lights go down and the curtain is about to rise. Like him, I clap, wistfully and somewhat silently, hoping for the same things that he speaks to us about. Praying for something joyful. Something surprising. Something that might lift the weight of the world off our collective shoulders for a moment or two. And when Julien whispers his hopeful prayer into the darkness, we breathe in with him, and the room, his captive audience, happily becomes part of his wonderful imaginative world.

I have carried in my heart a sweet history with this musical for many years. I was lucky enough to see it on Broadway during its celebrated run and even found myself at the Tony Awards party on the night it sadly lost Best Musical. That evening forever felt unfair, yet the musical has continued to tap dance within my heart with every encounter after that. Each viewing, and there were many as I took every friend or visiting relative to see it during its Broadway run, reveals another layer of its wit, its sincerity, and its deep affection for the art form it celebrates. Seeing it once again, back in the theatre where it first found its professional song and dance legs, adds an unparalleled sense of joyful circularity that feels entirely right.

With a book by Bob Martin and Don McKellar and a score by Second City alumni Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison, the musical within a musical’s story itself is famously pastry-thin. “That’s the plot,” our guide proudly announces early on, after only a few details are revealed. Said with the kindest of shrugs that invites us to laugh at the silliness of it all, The Drowsy Chaperone and her cast of clever characters file into a wedding weekend in the country during Prohibition. It seems a glamorous showgirl has decided to abandon the lights, glamour, and fame of the stage for love and marriage. A producer panics. A Latin lover enters with great enthusiasm. Mobster pastry chefs lurk in the wings threateningly with more pastry puns than one can shake a rolling pin at. And a wedding that threatens to collapse (or multiply) at any moment. Yet the plot has never been the point of this gloriously written musical. What matters most is the love that pours through the record the “Man in Chair” plays for us. His devotion to this forgotten musical becomes the emotional core of the evening, and one we wholeheartedly embrace. Through his commentary, we feel his need and desire for beauty, laughter, and companionship, and in a world that often feels overwhelming, that need resonates deeply.

Julien (Tarragon’s The Wolf in the Voice) proves to be a marvellous guide through this imaginative landscape. His “Man in Chair” lives fully in each moment, sharing his delight, his frustration, and his vulnerability with complete sincerity. His performance invites us to reconnect with the childlike thrill of falling in love with theatre for the first time. The musical numbers burst to life around him with infectious joy. Juliette Schroeder sparkles as Janet Van De Graaff, delivering a riveting “I Don’t Wanna Show Off” with irresistible charm. She made me momentarily forget about Sutton Foster who played that part to acclaim on Broadway, which is no small feat to make one forget about Foster. So kudos to her for that!

Ben Ridd (Shifting Ground’s 25th Annual Putnam Spelling Bee) as the dashing husband-to-be, Robert Martin, brings tap-dancing exuberance that feels destined for disaster in the most entertaining way possible. Carlos Basterrachea G. (Ink Bottle’s Don’t Fall In) hilariously storms in with operatic gusto and the swirl of a red cape as Aldolpho, wringing every ounce of comic bravado from the role.

The magnificent supporting ensemble fills the stage with colour and personality. Jill Louise Leger’s Mrs. Tottendale offers delightfully airy eccentricity, supported with ‘spurts’ by Aiden Robert Bruce’s loyal Underling. Avi Petliar and Benjamin Earl embrace the delicious absurdity of the gangster pastry chefs with impeccable comic timing, both physically and vocally, while Heidi Michelle Thomas glides in rapturously as the world-weary chaperone who may have enjoyed one too many sips before curtain time. The ensemble moves with vibrant energy under Shannon Murtagh’s choreography, and the musical direction of Jo O’Leary-Ponzo keeps the score buoyant and full of sparkle.

Director Joshua Kilimnik (Shifting Ground’s Merrily We Roll Along) shapes the evening with affection and clarity, allowing the show’s humour and sincerity to shine without forcing either. Jessica Balyk’s set and props design cleverly balances the modest apartment of the “Man in Chair” with the dazzling fantasy of the musical that springs from his record player. Costumes by Gabriel Woo celebrate the glamour of 1920s musical comedy, while Jay Hines’ lighting and Ashley Naomi’s sound design help transform a simple listening session into a fully imagined theatrical world.

By the time the evening ended after its brisk one hour and forty-five minutes, I found myself smiling broadly as I made my way out into the cold, rainy streets of Toronto. But I couldn’t contain myself, much like that endearing “Man in Chair,” immediately texting a few friends and urging them to get themselves to Theatre Passe Muraille to see this delight. That impulse feels perfectly in tune with the spirit of the show itself. The Drowsy Chaperone is a godsend, rescuing us from a difficult day and year. It captures that gentle magic of theatre beautifully. So trust me, spend an evening with this record (and this show), and your mood will almost certainly lift a few degrees before the needle scratches to the end of this memorable musical.