THE TORONTO SUN (Toronto, ON) APRIL 24, 2000

Making Us Happy
BY JOHN COLBOURNE

"Get Happy!"   * * * * * (5 stars)

One can sense that, even in childhood, certain people are destined to make wonderful old bones. 

It would be nice to say that when I first met Ronnie Burkett back in the mid-‘70s, he was marked with such destiny. It would be nice, but it wouldn’t be true. Besides, now barely into his 30s (you owe me one, Burkett), he’s still far removed from senior citizenry.

But he’s still making wonderful old bones -not to mention faces, bodies and personalities.

Burkett, of course, is the man behind, and on top of, Ronnie Burkett’s Theatre of Marionettes, pulling the strings on Rink-A-Dink Inc, a combination that has become a favourite in the banquet that is Toronto theatre.

So it is small wonder that Burkett is featured prominently in the ongoing celebration of du Maurier World Stage, under whose aegis he brings his latest work, Happy, to Buddies In Bad Times for a far-too-limited run.

Widowed War Vet

Here, Happy is more than the title of Burkett’s latest show; it is also its central character, an aged, widowed war veteran, full of folk wisdom and gamey reflection on the human condition. Happy could be older brother to sweet-natured Edna Rural, heroine of Burkett’s Street of Blood.

Happy is only one of the denizens of an old rooming-house, occupied by characters painted in the rainbow of Burkett’s colourful imagination.

There’s Raymond, the aged, lonely caretaker of the place, and the chain-smoking Lucille, Raymond’s lifelong unrequited love. There’s Ricky the gay Filipino hairdresser who simply can’t hide his roots, and the reclusive man with whom he shares his life. There‘s the poet Carla, and very briefly, her lover Drew, as well as a veritable menagerie of pets, both four-legged and two.

That is however simply one side to Burkett’s tale and to the oversized cabinet around which it unfolds. The flipside is ruled over by the dark and monochromatic forces of Antoine Marionette (think about it) and his sidekick in a never-ending cabaret of greyness.

As usual, Burkett tackles elements far removed from the purview of the traditional puppeteer, exploring themes of death, loss and grief with the irreverence that has endeared him to his audiences. In the process, he spins a comfort of clichés, homilies and home truths, stripping away time’s candy-coating to reveal the human wisdom at their core. 

I’ve always thought Burkett would have truly arrived when he created a show that could not be performed by human actors, and in a typically unorthodox way, that’s precisely what he’s done. The work’s sentimentality would overwhelm human actors, but Burkett’s marionettes put new meat on sentimental old bones, allowing us, for two hours, to watch as adults but to listen with the ears and hearts of children.

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