Quartet

In a heartwarming, occasionally heartbreaking production of Ronald Harwood’s Quartet, audiences are invited into the lives of four elderly opera singers living out their golden years in a retirement home for musicians. The play, which premiered in 1999 and has since become a staple in the world of contemporary theatre, explores themes of aging, memory, love, and the rich, sometimes painful, legacies left by former glories.

This particular production, directed by Kenzie Greenwood, brings a nuanced and deeply human interpretation of Harwood’s script, which balances humor and poignancy with an effortless charm. The narrative centers on the group’s attempt to revive their former professional glory by staging a concert for the other residents of the home. Their goal? To perform a once-famous quartet from Rigoletto on the anniversary of Verdi’s birth. Yet, beneath this seemingly lighthearted premise, Harwood has crafted a meditation on what it means to grow older, to face the inevitable decline of physical and mental faculties, and to come to terms with both regret and reconciliation.

The characters Reginald (John McCormack), Wilf (Stuart Micklewright), Cissy (KarenMcCarthy, and Jean (Jo Downie) are portrayed with tenderness and complexity. As Reginald, a former baritone who once commanded the stage,  John McCormack exudes both a regal dignity and a fragile vulnerability. His character, gruff and somewhat dismissive of the reality of aging, hides behind sarcasm and wit, but slowly reveals the deeper pains of lost youth and the disillusionment that accompanies it.

Stuart Micklewright as Wilf, the resident jokester and charmer, provides much of the comic relief in the production. Wilf’s light-heartedness, even in the face of serious decline, is a delightful contrast to Reginald’s cynicism, but it’s clear that behind the humor lies a man desperate for attention, validation, and perhaps a final moment of grandeur.

As Cissy, the ever-hopeful and somewhat naive member of the group, Karen McCarthy brings warmth and emotional depth to a character who so desperately clings to the past but also strives to look forward. She is the glue that holds the ensemble together, and her efforts to get the group to reunite for the concert serve as the emotional heart of the play.

And then there’s Jean, played by Jo Downie, the diva of the group, whose entrance signals the real conflict of the production. Once Reginald’s great love, Jean’s return to the fold forces unresolved tensions to the surface. With her fragile vanity and still-immense talent, Jean challenges the group’s unity, exposing the vulnerabilities and regrets that each of the characters has tried to bury.

The dynamic between these four characters is electric, with sharp repartee and rich, unspoken emotions simmering beneath the surface. The play’s dialogue—so full of wit and bittersweet humor—is sharply delivered, but it’s in the silences between words where the real depth of the production lies.

One of the standout aspects of this production is its use of space and set design. The retirement home, while presented as somewhat run down and humble, is a rich metaphor for the characters themselves: faded, worn, but still brimming with potential. The set is minimalistic, allowing the actors’ performances to take center stage, yet the small details the old photos, the faded curtains add layers of poignancy to the story.

Musically, the play is a celebration of opera, with numerous references to Verdi and Puccini. The pieces the quartet attempts to perform mostly left unfinished and often interrupted by the characters' physical limitations act as a metaphor for their attempts to reclaim a piece of their former selves, a struggle to find meaning and purpose in their twilight years.

The pacing of the play is deliberate, allowing the audience time to appreciate the characters' moments of humor, melancholy, and reflection. While there are moments of levity, Harwood ensures that the play never lapses into sentimentality. Instead, it is a sharp, compassionate examination of what it means to be human of how we grapple with loss, aging, and our need for connection.

In the final scenes, as the quartet comes together to attempt their performance, the sense of vulnerability and quiet triumph is palpable. There’s no grand, melodramatic conclusion here, just the quiet acceptance that, while we may never be who we once were, we still have something valuable to offer.

Ultimately, Quartet is a celebration of life both the joy and the pain that come with it. It’s a play that will make you laugh, make you cry, and leave you reflecting on your own relationships and what truly matters in the end.A brilliant performance that deserved more than a standing ovation.

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