Penny Plain Media Summary

By Sarah Marsh

Ronnie Burkett and his Penny Plain marionettes

Imagine a world where the monetary system has collapsed, banks have closed, a deadly flu pandemic is spreading, Iceland has submerged, and three million kangaroos are on a rampant killing spree. The imaginative world of Penny Plain may be marred with the trappings of an apocalyptic nightmare, but the amusing tales of its remaining inhabitants keep the story wonderfully light. From an overstuffed chair in her dilapidated boarding house, the blind, elderly Penny Plain keeps informed about the state of the world from an eccentric collection of boarders and passerby’s. Since opening to a full house on November 17, critics and audiences alike have raved about Ronnie Burkett’s apocalyptic masterpiece, Penny Plain.

The story of Penny Plain touches on a lot of dark, gloomy themes. However, Burkett manages to maintain a sense of innocence throughout, “By sticking to an almost childlike approach to weighty matters, Burkett can make big statements come from puppets without either sounding silly or talking down to the crowd” (Vancouver Sun). Burkett also does not shy away from the more provocative material for which he has become known, “with his insistence on always flavouring a stew of ideas with some raunchy sexual asides, and never flinching from the exposure of raw wounds on or in his characters, our host is very much a puppeteer steering toward profundity” (Vancouver Sun).

The elegant simplicity of the set allows the eccentric characters to remain the focus of the show. As in all his plays, the backdrop “is again a marvel of clever construction— who can forget the carousel of Tinka’s New Dress, or the “art nouveau meets Gustav Klimt” of Provenance?” (Vancouver Sun). For this latest show, Burkett has built a metallic walkway where he stands above the scene in the shadows, “[keeping] even more focus on the puppets and not their manipulator” (Vancouver Sun). Penny Plain and her many visitors sway silently on hooks behind him, waiting for their turn in the spotlight. The marionettes uncharacteristically long strings keep Burkett farther from the action, with the exception of a few appropriately small asides which he keeps closer at hand.

Despite the fact that they are made of wood, Burkett’s marionettes are able to convey even the slightest of emotions. As in all his shows, we witness Burkett’s “superb skills at creating characters the height of a cereal box whose tiny, perfect gestures can convey any emotion” (Vancouver Sun). In one particularly touching scene, “Penny drops to her knees, raises one arm, and in the subtlest of gestures slowly strokes the empty space where her beloved pet would once have lain. It’s a sweet, poignant, profoundly human moment” (The Province).

Ronnie Burkett was inspired to write Penny Plain after hearing one of his idols, David Suzuki, proclaim that ‘the world may survive, but we may not’. The resulting apocalyptic comedy is more than just a simple end of the world drama, but a moving story full of “intelligence, creativity, poetry and artistry here of the highest caliber. Burkett is, quite plainly, a Canadian treasure” (The Courier). The accolades for Burkett continue, as Penny Plain “features 33 of Burkett’s remarkable puppets brought to beautifully textured life, and given individual character, costume and voice, by him alone. His skill as a puppeteer is unmatched, but his writing and acting are equally impressive” (The Province). In a particularly reflexive scene of Penny Plain, one marionette announces to the character Geppetto that “You’re not God, you’re just a puppeteer.” This may be true, but for some of his most loyal fans and critics, Ronnie Burkett sure comes pretty close.

Penny Plain is running November 17 to December 17 at The Cultch. Tickets start at $45 and are available online at tickets.thecultch.com, by phone at 604.251.1363 or in person at 1895 Venables Street.