Spotlight On...
Morris Panych, Ken McDonald,
and the Girl in the Goldfish Bowl
Playwright Morris Panych and his partner, designer Ken MacDonald, have been a
vibrant part of the Canadian theatre community for twenty years. Their new show,
Girl In The Goldfish Bowl, opens this week at Tarragon Theatre. The show debuted
at Granville Island Stage, under the direction of Patrick McDonald, this spring.
TheatreBooks sat down with Morris and Ken to talk about the show, new challenges,
and the luxury of doing two different productions of the same play.
TheatreBooks: Tell me the story.
Morris Panych: It's the story of a girl who brings a man home who she finds
on the beach.
Ken MacDonald: He's a mysterious stranger.
MP: Her parents are in the midst of breaking up, her mother is going to
leave the house, and she's trying to save her family. And she thinks this man is
her reincarnated goldfish.
KM: The goldfish has just died, and this man washes up on the shore. She
thinks he looks a little bit like her goldfish did, if he was a human. He's got some
kind of similar markings on his neck. She places great importance on her goldfish.
MP: It's as if somehow the goldfish had kept the world in order and when
it died, everything fell apart -- that's what she thinks. When this man appears,
things start to look like they're coming together again.
That's basically the set up of the story.
TB: What about Girl In The Goldfish Bowl represents material or themes
that you -- both of you -- haven't looked at or explored before?
MP: It wasn't new territory for Ken. The set is somewhat surrealistic,
but it's not something he hasn't done before. But in the truest sense it's a realistic
set . That's something Ken doesn't often do. He usually does interpretive kinds of
sets -- there's no huge perspective in this set.
KM: We just kind of go from one side of the set to the other -- we blend
from the cannery docks, and the docks start to meld into the house. In the centre
it's absolutely realistic, and as it spreads towards the outer edges it turns, so
it's a fusion of the inside and outside at the same time.
I never do strictly realistic sets. Absolutely realistic sets are sort of better
for film. In theatre we're more conscious that we're watching a stage piece, and
it's bigger for life. You can see the lights.
MP: It was new territory for me in terms of the first production in Vancouver.
I didn't direct, and I have always directed the first production of my plays. I was
just being a writer. That was interesting and instructive.
The theme is new territory. I've never written a play about a child before, or
where one of the main characters was a child. It's also less absurd than some of
my other work. It's more in the realm of -- not naturalism, but realism.
TB: Did you find any insights on the part of the other director surprising,
or did you find the lack of control frustrating?
MP: I chose for it not to be frustrating. I chose to allow myself to let
him direct it. It was a conscious choice. I didn't want to interfere. I wanted to
see what he would make of my show. .... Because I chose that path, whenever I felt
frustrated, I reminded myself that it had been my decision.
There were a lot of surprises, and almost all of them were good surprises. I was
surprised by how much -- actually, how much more weirdly seriously he took my text
than I did -- almost at face value.
I didn't cast the show, but he wanted my input. The director (Patrick McDonald),
of course, however, makes the final decision. So it was like I had input, but I didn't
have input. I would have preferred not to have any input at all. It would have crossed
less boundaries.
But the way Patrick directs is pretty organic anyway, so we were working together,
and working with Ken.
TB: Why did you make the choice not to direct?
MP: I wanted to be a writer. When I'm a director, I have to focus more
on the actors and not on my script.
KM: This way he could watch a rehearsal and go away and change some things
and rewrite a passage, and care less about tech problems. He also knew that he was
going to direct the show himself at Tarragon, so he'd get a shot at it too.
TB: Has your set design changed for this production?
KM: Not very much. The theatre in Vancouver was a quite a bit larger --
it had a lot more height, and a bit more width. But otherwise I went for a very similar
look. There wasn't really any point in changing for change's sake.
I have done that -- I did a show here called '2000' for Joan Macleod, which I
had done before in Vancouver with the same director. There is occasionally more than
one idea I want to try, but in this case we quite liked the original design, and
it fit. So I kept it.
TB: Were there any cast members that crossed over from the other production?
MP: I didn't want to come to Toronto and cast a bunch of Vancouver actors.
There's a huge, huge body of talent here. And also I wanted a new show -- I wanted
my own show. I couldn't have done that with the same cast. It wouldn't have worked
out.
TB: Were there moments of inspiration from the Vancouver show that carried
over into this one?
MP: There was a lot of staging that I just stole, because it was easier.
I didn't have to invent everything from scratch. If we got stuck, I could say "Let's
try this," though I very quickly realized that if they did do (the same thing)
they would have to be in the same frame of mind as the actors in Vancouver. So we
sort of worked our own path through it, but it was easier.
KM: The costume director who worked with us before said "Just steal
whatever you want." And I did. It's quite different in the long run, but I didn't
have to completely invent something. I had something to fall back on. Normally, however,
I much prefer to invent. It's no fun if you just go look up what someone else did.
TB: The Overcoat [a Panych hit at CanStage two years ago] was turned into
a short. Do you think that this play would translate well to film?
KM: It's filmic enough in its atmosphere and location, and it has a narrative
kind of feeling that works quite well in film sometimes. The little girl could tell
the story.
MP: But it's easy enough to say "It would make a good film,"
but you have to find someone with a couple million dollars. If someone comes to me
with 2 million dollars and says "I want to make this into a film," then
yeah, we'll do it.
KM: Maybe someone will read this on the website and want to do it.
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By Morris Panych
Earshot
A dark comedy about a man with super-sensitive hearing, doomed to know everything
about his neighbours, forever. Softcover, $16.95
Ends of the Earth
Some people will go to any length to escape the inevitable. Softcover, $17.95.
Last Call
A post-nuclear cabaret. Softcover, $11.95.
Lawrence & Holloman
This is a universe in which Camus meets Dali, where Goya meets Disney, and where
gunshots, bathtub drowning, disillusion, and dismemberment become the Seventh Seal
of the Grey Flannel set. Softcover, $16.95.
Other Schools of Thought: Three Plays
This collection of one-acts is especially well suited for high-school audiences.
The Cost of Living is a video extravaganza, which explores the true nature of
relationships, the importance of respect for yourself, and the struggle to understand
sexuality, AIDS, and social responsibility. Also includes Life Science and
2 B WUT U R. Softcover, $16.95.
Seven Stories
A Sears Drama Festival favourite. A man has woken up to discover that the world no
longer makes sense. He walks onto the ledge of his apartment building, and prepares
to jump. However, before he can, the windows around him start to open, and the other
tenants begin to talk to him. They aren't interested in helping him off the ledge,
though -- they have too many problems of their own. Softcover, $16.95.
The Story of a Sinking Man
In this one-man show, a man talks to himself while slowly sinking to his death in
quicksand. In the anthology Singular Voices. Softcover, $19.95.
Vigil
A play about a self-important man, who unexpectedly finds himself in a life or death
situation with far-reaching consequences. Softcover, $15.95.
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