“If this has to be over, Mom, it would have been better if you had never brought me.” Thus spoke my 6-year-old son in tones of deepest betrayal as the applause faded and he realized that the cast of Alligator Pie would not be returning to the stage.

As adults we know that all good things must come to an end. But for children this is a lesson learned slowly, painfully, and with active resistance.

So as this fall’s production of Alligator Pie ended on Sunday at Toronto’s Soulpepper Theatre, I crossed my fingers for its return next year. Otherwise I will have to fabricate a lie, a gross misrepresentation with which my children will no doubt reproach me in later life.  Something along the lines of “Rover?… Oh, Rover went to live on a beautiful farm in the country!”

I make no claims to objectivity here. My son, 3-year-old daughter, husband, and myself are Alligator Pie groupies all.  We attended four performances in which we laughed, cried, and gasped in delight. We bought books of Dennis Lee’s poetry and sang and recited them at home.

If a CD or DVD had been available we would have bought it for an exorbitant price in the lobby. It was that good: inventive, inspired, lovingly prepared, intensively rehearsed, joyfully performed.

Five talented actor/musicians devoted months to the collective creation and rehearsal of this hour-long show and their dedication showed.

After sifting through the volumes of children’s poetry by Toronto Poet Dennis Lee, they chose a double handful which they performed either as musical numbers with choreography, as monologues, or with simple theatrical staging.

Loosely ordered around themes of fun, friendship, and loneliness, the show retained the roughshod dynamism of improvisation. “Trust us, this is fun” the cast seemed to say as they invited us to revel with them in childlike play and discovery. No special effects here, no fancy lighting or stage machinery. Just… stuff. Stuff you might find in your garage or attic – cardboard, dress-up clothes, bubble wrap, hulahoops, cups and staplers.

To my children, the actors came across as “big kids” playing make believe. These big kids entertained each other and us with words and songs and rhythm games, with shared activities and sudden inspirations.

Halleluia! Here was live theatre as a pushback against the isolating devices, sarcasm, inanity and violence that pervade so much of popular culture and children’s “entertainment.”

The first night we attended there were only a handful of kids in attendance, but the adults present were equally captivated by the bubbling energy and the obvious delight that the cast took in each other’s company.

A real highlight for me was that the actor/musicians (talented percussionists and instrumentalists all) all sang well with normal, slightly imperfect, real people voices (sending the message that ordinary people sing!).

One striking exception to this rule was Gregory Prest’s star turn as the deeply frustrated protagonist of “I put a penny in my purse.” Prest unleashed his rich baritone (while accompanying himself on accordion) to perform a brilliant quasi-operatic habañera. His vocal intensity was matched by a seriously hilarious dancing percussion ensemble whose instruments included a roll of packing tape, scissors, two staplers posing as castanets, and a three-hole punch.

Other unconventional instruments included plastic tubing cut to pitch-specific lengths with which actors could create chords and play melodies by clownishly hitting themselves and each other with the tubes. In the final number, a giant sheet of bubble wrap provided a viscerally percussive “whump” every time one of the actors jumped on it.

All the set pieces were excellent. In “Trickin’” Ins Choi’s glam rapper impersonation of a toddler relishing every moment of his supremacy in the suppertime power struggle made him my son’s new hero.

Amidst all this excitement and energy it was a meditative sequence on the theme of friendship reclaimed that moved me the most. Starting from basic mirroring exercises, Choi and Prest traced with transparent dollar-store umbrellas the serene parallel movements of children at play. Their sweet, vulnerable pas de deux was accompanied by the delicate harmonies of Ross and Duffy singing a Neil Young-ish duet.  “I remember, I remember. How we used to play outside.”

This snapshot of the boyish innocence that so rarely survives to become gentle manhood brought me to tears.

Thanks to Soulpepper’s initiative in creating this show I have a newfound appreciation of Dennis Lee (Canada’s Father Goose), whom I had previously known only from a cursory browsing of Alligator Pie.

Lee’s “The Cat and the Wizard” now vies with “The Owl and the Pussycat” for my favourite bedtime recitation and I am determined to memorize it before 2013.

I am equally indebted to Mike Ross for his intelligent, infectious score with melodies so catchy and so perfectly matched to the poetry that my son sang some of the songs easily at home after only one hearing.  Now after multiple hearings the songs are firmly lodged in the family consciousness, where they amuse us at all hours.

I’m hoping that Soulpepper will serve generous helpings of Alligator Pie in future seasons.  After all, like Mulligan stew, “It’s quick and delicious and good for you too!”

Meredith Hall

Meredith Hall is a Toronto-based soprano

+++

Alligator Pie was based on the book of poems by Dennis Lee, originally published in 1974.

The show was created and performed by Mike Ross, Raquel Duffy, Gregory Prest, Ken Mackenzie, and Ins Choi for the Soulpepper Theatre Company. Performances ran from Oct 26 to Dec 9.