Theatre Kingston’s ‘Strolling Player’: An Unforgettable Jaunt Down Memory Lane
Unfurling the petals of his perennial existence, one actor sets out on a journey across his own lifetime. Welcome to Theatre Kingston’s staging of Strolling Player: an autobiographical recount of the life of English actor and playwright Richard Sheridan Willis. Upon Willis’s union to Canadian novelist Heidi Reimer, his immigration requirements invoke a Herculean task: officials demand a full account of his endeavors spanning from age eighteen to present day. Beginning on the shores of his father’s catalytic seaside theatre, Willis’ accounts his life as one regards an hourglass; turning it up, down, and over to unfasten the memories left within.
A tribute to the sanctity of theatre itself, Willis breaks from his narration to dive into prolific monologues: writers such as Shakespeare, Wilde, and Shaw join Willis in his recitings. Strolling Player explores the transience of the actor through space and time: walking a cutting edge of nostalgia and acceptance, Richard Sheridan Willis is our guide to reconcile what is present and what is past.
The titular “Player” in concern is one of extreme consequence. With a burning intensity and a twinkle in his eye, Willis draws his audience in like a needle winding thread; mending the tear between spectacle and spectator with a suave indulgence. His resonant voice powers across the room with nothing short of absolute theatrical command: attention is immediately had and subsequently held.
Willis flaunts a chameleon charm as he prowls, meanders, flutters, and strides across the stage. He is vulnerable and teasing in simultaneity, portraying the explosive infinity of the actors undertaking.
And Shakespeare… Oh Shakespeare… If you’ve lost your love for him, here’s a way to win it back: Ole’ William’s sent one of his devouts.
Playful and incandescent, Willis handles the Bard’s scripts with the prowess of a true scholar. The immediacy of live theatre supersedes the years wedged between its enactment; whether the words are five hundred years old or only three, Richard Sheridan Willis closes the gap.
The technical design is applied with such fusion to Willis’ performance that he seems to puppeteer the entire workings of the theatre. Music swells with a lift of his arms; light flashes at the snap of his fingers. The true master, however, resides on the balcony, controlling all the action from above: here you will find the formidable Will Smith Blythe. Floodlights seize the room in a blinding focus, carving Willis’ face with flaming distinction. Strong choices concerning silhouette, contrast, and colour make film stills of each moment: every action elevated into stunning tableaux. Blythe has an eye for atmosphere, pinpointing the visual mood of each moment with owl-like precision. Doubling as Stage Manager and Lighting Designer in this show, Blythe is a jack of all trades, fumbler of none.
Dougal Rose’s compositions beautifully underscore this fantastic performance, providing the production with its own musical identity. Willis is reflected by its sound, convincingly posed as a charlatan conductor.
The theatrical setting into which this illusion immerses itself is not so far from its intent: illustrative and mystical, Andrea Robertson’s set design felt a part of Willis’ creation. Defining the silhouette of this backdrop stands a trio of asymmetrical towers, lopsidedly painted in contrast to their vertical orientation. Images appear in whimsical remembrance on their canvas regardless of its shape, taking on the impression of a childish mirage: the buildings look flimsy as wheat, blown out of their own proportion by a wild wind.
This artistic playspace is realized in the Baby Grand— notice its being called the “Baby”— it’s small! Yet although the formidable towers surround a sizable platform, trunk, and swivel chair, the stage is transformed by some clever magic to feel eight feet wider than I’d ever seen it. This feat of spatial composition freed Willis of petty constraints: he had a whole world to peruse.
Placed on the side of the stage is a typical costume rack—the sort you would find in any dressing room—parading the many outfits of Richard Willis’ career. Though it is a beautiful assortment, his base costume reigns supreme: bleach white and faded as bone, Willis looks as if he’s washed up from the sea of time, returning like a wave to its pebbled shore.
The collaboration between Richard Sheridan Willis and Heidi Reimer results in a lovingly witty script. Majestic and candid, Strolling Player lives at a crossroads of grandeur and closeness. This script is an eloquent deliverance of a gorgeously structured and prosaic journey.
Every anecdote begins with a seizing hook, skipping over the usual transitionary blabber—Willis begins a scene and invites us to meet him there. It is his life, after all; and among the more enjoyable of cat and mouse games. As he travels through time to find his memories, the audience travels with him: the duration of the performance was dissolved by the quickness with which all good times tend to roll.
I urge you to see this play— it is a marvel. A courageous showcase of all the idiosyncratic merits peculiar to the theatre, Strolling Player lives in the vitality of the moment. I wanted to stay past curtainfall— as a matter of fact, I was impatient during the fifteen minute intermission— and I will surely be heading back to the theatre myself before this showrun is up. The innovation Theatre Kingston contributes to our city’s theatre scene is undeniable. Strolling Player as an addition to their program is an example of impeccable taste.
Strolling Player runs at the Baby Grand Theatre until November 15, 2026. For tickets and more information, click here. To visit Kingston Theatre’s website click here.
