by Heather Christie

Oh, us women are SO dishonest and seductive and elusive. Our infamous tricks have had the opposite sex running circles around us since the dawn of time. How are men ever to tell if we’re candid in our flirtation or just playing games? And if we’re not elusive and dishonest, then we’re brash, alcoholic, and disloyal. What’s a man to do when women and all dealings with them are rife with illusion and elusion?!

These are the ideas that two of Soulpepper’s current plays throw around in a variety of ways, and—as befits the game of major league love ball–these pitches can be soft lobs, curve balls, or—if you’re particularly unlucky—fastballs so blinding you can’t even be sure that the [wo]man-on-the-mound has pitched yet. But while the tension between truth and illusion within the relationships in The Guardsman and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? does resemble some sort of twisted sporting event, it’s never really clear who the winner is.

In Frank Marcus’ translation of Ferenc Molnár’s The Guardsman, the hubby half of a well-to-do thespian couple suspects his wife of engaging in illicit affairs with other men. Naturally, he decides to disguise himself as a desirable suitor and attempts to seduce his own wife. Typical disguise-theatre confusion and comedy ensues, though I wouldn’t be so bold as to call it either particularly hilarious or singularly clever. Perhaps some of it is lost in translation, but, the whole production is both contrived and tiresome. Other than the obvious message (“oooh, you never know what’s real and what’s not”) it’s a little difficult to glean anything meatier from The Guardsman.

By contrast, in Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Martha (Nancy Palk) and and George (Diego Matamoros) put on one hell of a show for their unsuspecting—and seemingly painfully orthodox–evening guests. George and Martha bicker like a cranky blood hound and an ill-tempered goose until a secret is revealed in front of the guests that cannot be replaced inside the proverbial Pandora’s Box. What ensues is an all-out domestic war. Pain and suffering—both psychological and physical—fly across the stage at such a clip that at times it is difficult to grasp just how clever both the script and the acting are. The entire cast gives such a performance that, at times, it is easy to forget that the onstage unraveling of such sordid lives is not, in fact, real.

In all, you should undoubtedly make time to see Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. It’s quite acceptable to be a little less keen on The Guardsman.