Ordena, left, steals the show as the matriarch in Who Knew Grannie. It’s a moving snapshot of a dispersed family.
- Who Knew Grannie: A Dub Aria
- Written and directed by Ahdri Zhina Mandiela
- Starring Miranda Edwards, Ordena, Joseph Pierre, Andrea Scott and Marcel Stewart
- At Factory Theatre
- In Toronto on Saturday
Aria is just the right word to describe Ahdri Zhina Mandiela's new piece. It's musical and moving storytelling, but has the distinct feel of being only a single number in a much larger whole.
The swift 70 minutes of Who Knew Grannie: A Dub Aria are more a snapshot of a family than a self-contained, rounded-out narrative. It makes its impression more by osmosis than by telling. And that, perhaps, is the thrust of dub poetry: You can't get caught up in understanding all of what's said. You just have to lean back and lose yourself in the language. Dub poetry springs from the spoken word and reggae cultures of Jamaica, a performance genre that weaves voices with percussion. Language is king, as rhythm, repetition and call-and-answer passages paint the scene. And Mandiela is a godmother of the genre, as well as a decorated veteran of the Toronto theatre scene.
Who Knew Grannie, part of Obsidian Theatre's 10{+t}{+h} anniversary season and co-presented by Factory Theatre, follows four cousins spread across the Jamaican diaspora, who have to find communion in their past to find a more satisfying future. The unifying event is the death of their grandmother, the loving but firm woman who ruled her home "with a fist and good food."
All five actors handle their dual roles as poets comfortably: Miranda Edwards (last at Factory in The Madonna Painter), gives a delicate performance as the shy, emotional Likklebit; Obsidian regular Joseph Pierre is physically imposing as the imprisoned Tyetye; Andrea Scott is authoritative as the buttoned-down politician Vilma; and Marcel Stewart, as Kris, lets fiery determination bubble up slowly from behind a veil of smiles. But Ordena steals the show as Grannie, the self-assured, wise, tender heart of the performance. "Children, children, don't get lost," she reminds them.
The cat's cradle of a set cleverly mirrors the family's situation. The foreground is dark and bare, the cousins scattered across it, but bright cords strung across the stage like clotheslines suggest links they may have forgotten. In the background is Grannie's Jamaican hearth, warm, bright and full of the bric-a-brac of home life, where the show's percussionist sits. This is the house of memories that will draw them back together.
Their new world is silent - it has no rhythm, no pulse. But it isn't as simple as contrasting a wholesome, family-oriented homeland and a fragmented, cold, outside world, because the future for these four is out in that wider world. Revisiting their shared memories simply rejuvenates them. As they recall childhood games, living under Grannie's strict rules, singing and dancing, they capture a lost sense of wonder and togetherness.
If you're looking for the satisfying arc of a traditional tale, you won't find it here: This is an aria, not the whole opera. But if you absorb all you can and lose yourself in its rhythms, it is a refreshing experience, showing how language alone can change how we live.
Who Knew Grannie continues at Factory Theatre until April 4.