The Will of a Woman: in league with the plucky Mrs Campbell

3 Jul 2023 - Photos courtesy of Shan Fernando

The Spadina Museum is a somewhat dilapidated mansion that sits kitty corner to the spruced-up and sprawling castle that is Casa Loma. Inside the mansion is a hodgepodge of antiques, taxidermy, furniture labelled 'fragile,' a profusion of plants, and paintings ranging from historical portraits and wistful landscapes to dogs playing poker. It is eclectic. Kicking the curatorial artistry up a notch is the addition of Diamond Heart Productions' The Will of a Woman, taking up residence for the length of the Toronto Fringe Festival. Because the show is site specific and without theatrical seating, a maximum of 25 audience members are able to attend each show. A fraction of those who will want to experience the tale of the plucky Mrs Elizabeth Campbell who was the first woman to defend herself before the Privy Council in England. More to the point, she fought the Canadian legal establishment after her mother's trust fund had been looted, becoming a feminist pioneer in a time when women had just earned the right to vote. I was lucky enough to be invited to a dress rehearsal as in all likelihood I would not be able to snag one of the coveted slots during the run.

It's easy to see why Campbell's story appealed to playwright Steven Elliott Jackson (The Garden of Alla, The Seat Next to the King, Threesome, Real Life Superhero) and he has constructed a mildly comedic narrative that condenses Campbell's heroic 14-year battle into a brisk 75 minutes. Because of its brevity—and being immersive and interactive, some time is spent travelling between rooms and scenes, trimming the actual playing time even further—some of the beats are bluntly dispensed, pitting a misogynist world against a feisty woman. But this is where we see why the Spadina Museum appealed to director Shan Fernando. Instant atmosphere and, because we are always on the move in an unfamiliar place, there is constant eye candy that papers over the linear fairy tale quality of the plot. And we are intimately close to the players. When Campbell speaks to the audience in the courtroom, she also speaks directly to the audience. And connects. We have already been primed by responding to the "All rise" when the judge enters, we are transported to a faux-reality. We participate and take on Campbell's cause as our own.

There is a tonal problem to be sorted out, partly dictated by logistics. To move the audience from room to room requires direction and a break in the fourth wall (even though we are inside that barrier). Often this is done with quips and winks and it works wonderfully, making us laughing conspirators. Jackson's text is funnier than it was being played the night I was there. The seriousness of the subject matter and performances swallowed the droll lines. Whenever we were taken into joking confidence, or treated like a herd, a camp element crept in that allowed us to laugh and connect Campbell's travails to modern reality. The chief beneficiary of this is Jade Dunlop who plays both the snippy sister and the man-hungry widowed fairy godmother. She is a delight, relishing each bon mot and flounce. Thomas Gough (A Christmas Carol, The Crucible, Bent, Donors) is the embezzling trustee and he all but twirls his moustache (with small concessions—alcoholism—towards humanity). That makes it great fun when he barks at us to hustle along to the next scene. As the cast finds its footing in the spaces of the play, and the museum walls, and the fourth wall, the transitions will undoubtedly become unobtrusive comedic highlights.

Madryn McCabe plays Campbell as meek, somewhat innocent, but with a backbone of steel. She bristles as she discovers how she's been wronged and what she is up against, a fierce intelligence struggling against what she has been told, has come to believe, is her place. We could feel her core temperature rise every time a withering remark about the status of her sex was lobbed in her direction. She also establishes a congenial heat with her minister husband (an opportunity for some gentle wisecracks about religion and conjugal bliss). Her husband and the shyster lawyer who discovers his heart of gold are both played by Jim Armstrong (A Christmas Carol), beset by moral dilemmas and also the sex object of the proceedings. We are given hints of Campbell's feelings for her lawyer conflicting with her marital status, and it is an intriguing tease that there is, alas, not time to explore or exploit. Dunlop however works the lust angle to the hilt and it is charming, particularly in the context of the times she lives in. Gregory Watts is the imposing voice of the patriarchy and old boy's clubs. Intimidating but just oily enough to create implausible deniability. He and Gough make a good team, he and Armstrong make crackling adversaries.

There is a clever lighting effect that is still being fine-tuned (the wiring of the museum is slow in responding) and I desperately want to make a joke about pheasant under glass (some of the artifacts are flat out disturbing). But when the cast can relax into their roles, and the quick changes, The Will of a Woman will rollick instead of lurch. We all cheered when Campbell - spoiler alert! - finally triumphs. And we all sighed when that triumph is swallowed by an ironic but inevitable coda. It is a delicate balance to create reality with steak and cookies that are more than props, in order to manufacture an unreality that feels real. But before we can think too hard, or even get our bearings, we are trouping down a hallway under the baleful glazed gaze of a stuffed stag head, and continuing our quest in tandem with the plucky Mrs Campbell. Learning that history is not always a museum piece.