Theatre review: Gateway Theatre’s Wildwoman delights in a vengeful anti-heroine for the ages
Working from Kat Sandler’s darkly witty script, Synthia Yusuf and Nathan Kay range from sweet and innocent to defiant and dangerous
Wildwoman’s Synthia Yusuf and Nathan Kay. Photo by David Cooper
Gateway Theatre and Alberta Theatre Projects present Wildwoman at Gateway Theatre to April 4
AROUND 2020, THE phrase “I support women’s rights and also women’s wrongs” started popping up on social media sites, as users lauded their favourite morally complicated anti-heroines.
Like her male counterpart (the anti-hero), the anti-heroine isn’t an inherently “likable” character. She acts selfishly, she defies social norms, and she has maybe committed a heinous crime or two. She’s usually on a path of vengeance. You love her or you hate her. And over the last few years, the anti-heroine has reached such polarizing popularity that she has become a bit of a genre of her own. Think Rosamund Pike in Gone Girl, Chloë Grace Moretz’s Carrie, Mia Goth in Pearl, Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman. It’s thrilling—and satisfying—to see a woman who is pushed to her limit decide to push back. Hard.
Wildwoman, by Canadian playwright Kat Sandler (whose Yaga was a hit at Gateway Theatre), slots perfectly into this genre.
In a fashion similar to the historical fantasy romance My Lady Jane or the absurdist dark comedy-drama The Great, Sandler’s Wildwoman takes a real-life historical figure—in this case, Catherine de Medici—and supplies her with modern-day language and -isms.
The play follows Cathy (Synthia Yusuf), chronicling her disappointing marriage to King Henry II of France (Nathan Kay), her even more disappointing role as a baby-making machine to produce male heirs for the throne, her desire (and inability) to participate in the king’s court, and the unlikely friends and enemies she makes along the way. Cathy, like the “freaks” and animals her husband keeps locked up around her, is in a cage. And when she gets out? Beware.
Yusuf and Kay are knockouts as the royal pair.
Kay plays young Henry as a petulant, rambling, angsty teenager with flailing limbs and an awkward laugh. Henry is a spoiled brat, obviously, but Kay plays him with such earnestness and humour that you’re compelled to forgive him for that; he’s a prince, after all. Kay’s young Henry is endearing to the audience—dare I say cute? It makes Kay’s performance of Henry as he ages and gains power and influence over those around him all the more shocking. Now Henry’s spoiled outbursts and swinging arms don’t seem so cute; they’re dangerous. Before our eyes, Kay transforms Henry into someone truly frightening.
(From left) Nathan Kay, Connor Suart, and Synthia Yusuf. Photo by David Cooper
Yusuf charts Cathy’s evolution with equal control. As Henry’s new bride, she is bright-eyed and innocent, carrying a restless, eager energy, “like this wild animal about to charge”, as Henry observes. But that energy soon stagnates. When she is shut out of court, Cathy’s excitement sours into boredom, then desperation, marked by Yusuf’s lowered voice and heavier presence. When she meets her breaking point in a particularly harrowing sequence near the end of the first act, and crumples to the floor, wiping tears and snot from her face, it’s inevitable what comes next: revenge. Yusuf’s 40-something Cathy is vengeful, sassy, overconfident. She’s a different kind of wild animal entirely—and one that is delightful to watch.
I felt a little like Arrested Development’s Lucille Bluth, eating a cupcake, drinking a martini, and toasting: “Good for her.”
Sandler’s script is so sharp, and Yusuf’s performance is so deeply layered, that even as Cathy becomes more warped and monstrous, you still feel like you understand her—and maybe even want to celebrate her a little.
These elements are bolstered by the production’s design. Director Jamie King and lighting designer Gerald King draw the audience in with bold choices—like sudden bursts of brightness aimed right at the crowd at key moments—as does Narda McCarroll’s intricate set, with its pillars, doors, and chandeliers adorned with furs and gold-painted dolls and miscellaneous children’s toys. Alaia Hamer’s costumes add even more eye candy, from the women’s structured corsets and full skirts to the men’s doublets, breeches, and ruffled collars. It all makes for a delicious theatre experience.
This production’s run is limited, and ends on April 4. At that point, Wildwoman’s cast and creative team will pack up and move the show to the Martha Cohen Theatre in Calgary for Alberta Theatre Projects.
So those who love a juicy story about poison and plotting mistresses, prophecies and anti-heroines, should act fast. Wildwoman is here for a good time, not a long time. 
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