Blind Eyes: The Ecstasy of Rita Joe

Peace, it seems, is something that eludes everyone in The Ecstasy of Rita Joe, from the imprisoned and impoverished title character to the understanding but inescapably racist magistrate overseeing her fate. Canadian George Ryga's masterwork of a play, currently at The Firehall, is given a powerful reworking by director Donna Spencer and her talented ensemble. Although the language sometimes verges on didactic, there is enough potent poetry and staggering social relevance to make this play significant even 40 years after its debut.

Rita Joe (Lisa C. Ravensbergen) is a young First Nations woman who left the reservation for some semblance of modern life in the city. She's been arrested for vagrancy and prostitution - charges she doesn't understand - and is plagued on all sides by a foreign religion, government, and haunting memories of a childhood divided between a humiliating residential school and the natural harmony of home with her sister (Tricia Collins) and father (Byron Chief Moon). Her boyfriend, Jaimie Paul (Kevin Loring), promises a life of autonomy and plenty, but their dreams are continually dashed by a system trying to sweep the "Aboriginal problem" under the tightly woven rug. It's a simple story, and sometimes the plot seems to be more of a vehicle for Ryga's views on the treatment of Aboriginals in Canada; still, Spencer's direction keeps the production moving quickly on the sparse, auditorium-like set.

All sharp, skinny angles and tiny pigeon-toed feet, Ravensbergen inhabits Rita Joe - her distinctive accent, her manic poles of emotion and energy, her paralyzing frustrations - creating a character into whom the actress completely disappears. Hers is undoubtedly one of the best performances of this theatre season. She's supported by a strong ensemble, including Cancer Man himself (William B. Davis as the Magistrate)and Loring, whose Jaimie Paul slips effortlessly between jubilant optimism and uncontrollable fury.

The one weak link for me was the presence of the Singer (Tracey Power), a wandering '60s folk guitarist who spent the entirety of the show onstage, commenting on or narrating the plot in bursts of song. She was probably supposed to be ironic, but I'm sort of blind to irony in general; either way, the raw action on stage was powerful enough without musical exposition.

It is suitably wrecking to leave The Firehall and walk out onto the streets of the DTES. And it is unforgivably shameful that this play, written forty years ago, is undeniably as relevant now as it was then. Despite the great strides made by members of the Aboriginal community towards self-empowerment and community regeneration, very little has changed in the inability of our government to reconcile the horrific events of the past with progress for the future. Productions like this one should serve as an example of how art can change the world, despite our stubborn unwillingness to allow it to change us; forty years from now, will another audience be singing the same old tune?

Rita Joe runs until Dec. 8, 2007 at The Firehall. Ticket info can be found here.

Photo courtesy of squarewithin in the BR Flickr pool.