Noise fills Harsh Weather, the new work-in-progress performance piece from Colleen Arcturus MacIsaac and Coral Maloney. A room-size tarp crinkles and unfolds. Two electric fans hum in opposite directions. More fans follow, many more, some plugged in and some not, and the room fills with white noise. Bare feet shuffle across the tarp. I went on a cold April night, and the rain pattered through the quieter parts on the roof of the Bus Stop Theatre. Someone cleared their throat. A low, pulsing music track began. All of it was soft, and steady, and restrained.
Restraint was the main feeling of Harsh Weather, at least the version of it that I saw. A vocal track, the only words said during the piece, kicks in about halfway through, talking about hurricanes and the heat. “Can we get some more air in here?” it asks. Suddenly the fans make sense. Most of the onstage actions are clarified by this context of the climate crisis, but up until that point Arcturus MacIsaac and Maloney play the meaning of the piece close to their chest. Plenty could be read into the bringing out of fans, the careful setting up of a trio of them, the sombre laying of them in a heap, but it’s only after the pointed use of the vocal track that the intention with which the creators were working becomes clear. Suddenly the audience has a lens through which to interpret every element onstage. Maloney dragging the white tarp, loaded with plastic fans, becomes a glacial mass. Flashlights looking through the detritus become an attic in a power outage, or maybe a search effort in the wake of a natural disaster.
Sudden clarity of interpretation helps to contextualize Harsh Weather, but also demands more of it.
The sudden clarity of interpretation helps to contextualize Harsh Weather, but also demands more of it. Once every action becomes freighted with meaning the piece becomes scrutable, the parts of it understandable. It’s a strengthening, but I found myself wanting the piece to build to more, to present its vignettes, each distinguished by the beautiful lighting of Matt Downey, in ways that felt aware of the new awareness the audience had found. The white noise had sharpened into a defined form, and I was waiting for an acknowledgement of that.
This doesn’t mean I wanted a complete change of tone from this piece. One of my favourite parts was the closing action, after Arcturus MacIsaac and Maloney had rummaged their way underneath the tarp. Below the white plastic the flashlights pulled back from the audience, dimming slowly, a trembling light receding into a deflating mass. It was impactful, and it was quiet.
Created and Performed by: Coral Maloney and Colleen Arcturus MacIsaac
See it Tuesday, April 22 @ 6:00pm, Saturday, April 26th @ 2:00pm, and Sunday, April 27th @ 5:00pm. Get tickets here.
To be notified of OutFest reviews as soon as they're up, click here to get on our email list. All the Wayves reviews of OutFest 2025 are here.