Theatre review: I, Claudia is a star turn for multitasking Lili Beaudoin, who makes mask work feel painfully human
Hugely enjoyable one-woman show about the difficulty of change befits an era of seismic shift
Lili Beaudoin as the awkward preteen title character in I, Claudia. Photo by Moonrider Productions
The Arts Club Theatre presents I, Claudia at the Newmont Stage at the BMO Theatre Centre until August 15.
FOR PROOF THAT actor Lili Beaudoin can squeeze comedic magic out of even the simplest prop, look no further than the juice box in her new one-woman tour de force, I, Claudia.
Her ebullient and awkward 12-and-three-quarters-old title character slurps from it long and loudly to soothe her hyper antics or to create a dramatic pause in her storytelling. Other times, she squishes it in her fists when she’s upset. It doubles as soothing device and outlet for frustration.
Beaudoin puts in an epic performance as the pre-pubescent heroine in this hugely enjoyable play at the Arts Club—one that’s made all the sweeter by being the company’s first on-stage in 35 long pandemic weeks.
Beaudoin shows herself to be as adept at wonderfully weird physical humour as at nuanced character work, as she switches maniacally between four vastly different roles.
Kristen Thomson’s smash 2001 hit sold out repeatedly in Toronto, rightfully winning a Dora Mavor Moore for best production and best new play, and going on to an acclaimed tour. It is deeply, painfully, and hilariously human, despite its use of exaggerated commedia dell’arte-style half-masks.
Beaudoin manoeuvres a box of Melody Anderson’s artful masks, as well as some key costume pieces, to transform into preteen Claudia; aging Eastern European school janitor Drachman; the doddery, recently widowed grandfather Douglas; and the hard-partying businesswoman Leslie. The rubber-limbed actor simply nails it in a performance as fearless as it is vulnerable.
Under the direction of Babel Theatre’s Marie Farsi, Beaudoin imbues Claudia with all the contradictions of a child on the cusp of adulthood. She’s almost able to understand the world of grownups, but not quite, whether it’s being befuddled by a pair of high-heeled red pumps (“those are...BONDAGE!”), or reaching for big words (“I’m kre-cocious”).
Only gradually do we realize what she’s doing in a school basement (the janitor’s “broiler room”), why she’s hidden mugs, socks, and other souvenirs there, and why Tuesday is the worst day of her life. In short, it has to do with a family breakup. Faced with her father’s new girlfriend and a mother who’s started lying in bed with the curtains drawn in the middle of the day, Claudia works her way up to a “teen rebellion fit” for the ages.
Beaudoin embraces all this with a sense of play, without every losing her character’s humanity. Yes, the mask gives her inflated rosy cheeks and a cartoon-bulbous nose, so why does she feel more real than almost any kid you see on television?
Elsewhere, the masks may suggest broad characters, but each part defies expectations, making us question our own rush to judgment. The comically gruff “Bulgovian” janitor comes from a surprisingly artistic background; Claudia’s father’s “other woman” reveals more vulnerable layers to her aggressive, hard-partying office worker. Thomson adds extra colour with her wittily specific and brutally honest, unsentimental writing: a dad looks “incarcerated in his suit”; an old man has a “weakness for suck candies”.
Lili Beaudoin as the janitor Drachman. Photo by Moonrider Productions
All of it takes place in Heipo C. H. Leung’s subterranean world of dripping pipes—a spot where secrets can be shared and transformation can happen.
I, Claudia is about transition, and the hard experiences that mould us into who we are—whether we’re a lozenge-sucking senior, a martini-sucking businessperson, or a juice-box-sucking pubescent.
And considering we’re all in the midst of pulling ourselves out of a difficult and momentous shift right now, I, Claudia feels like an apt return to theatre.
Grab the opportunity to see it, if you’re up for something live and in-person. It’s that rare show that will speak to teens, their parents, and even their grandparents, uniting them in the terrible-funny reality that life changes, whether we like it or not.
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