The making of Shrek

The Arden Theatre is slowly undergoing a magical transformation into a fairyland with a Chinese dragon, sassy gingerbread man and a transvestite wolf.

The first sightings that something mysterious was afoot happened during a costume parade last Wednesday night.

Since the summer months, St. Albert Children's Theatre has thrown its full resources into mounting Shrek, the Musical, a lush extravaganza that opens Thursday, Nov. 21 for an 11-day run.

And it's quite possibly the biggest show the theatre group has produced. The rights alone were $13,000 and the stagecraft for this production is worthy of any professional company.

Fairytale fans first got to know the loveable green ogre Shrek by reading William Steig's book, and later watched it become one of DreamWorks mega-hit animated films.

Transformed into a pop culture icon, the Oscar-winning tale was morphed into a Broadway musical with David Lindsay-Abaire's witty book and Jeanine Tesori's pop-rock music.

In an era when bullying is scrutinized under a more intense microscope, the "don't judge a book by its cover" educational message was all it took for children's theatre artistic director Janice Flower to snap up the rights.

As in the animated version, Shrek's peaceful but lonely existence is interrupted after a flood of storybook characters arrive at his swamp. The villainous and vertically challenged Lord Farquaad has banished the characters from the Kingdom of Duloc.

Shrek sets out to visit Farquaad in an effort to get his privacy back. On the way he rescues the mouthy Donkey and involuntarily becomes champion to the romantic but testy Fiona, a princess with an embarrassing secret.

Getting ready

At the costume parade, actors and designers met in Progress Hall to fix any little bugs, adjust garments and run cast members through several of the show-stopping numbers.

It was controlled mayhem. In one corner the Wicked Witch, wearing a pointy hat that looked like the feminine version of the Harry Potter sorting hat, swishes past Princess Fiona as she's being measured in an elegant wedding dress.

In another corner three rats prance in front of a mirror while a roly-poly Humpty Dumpty, delicate Sugar Plum Fairy, cute Ugly Duckling and flamboyant Mad Hatter do a few warm-ups.

Away from the chaos in the quieter dressing rooms, makeup artist Noreen Jani builds Shrek's face onto actor Steven Angove, a children's theatre alumnus and graduate of MacEwan University's musical theatre program. Like the costume parade, the makeup application is a test run to see how all the pieces work together.

Jani, a valuable team member since 2000, slips an ogre green latex prosthetic, complete with warts and Shrek's trumpet shaped ears, over Angove's head. Purchased online, the prosthetic covers his skull, the top part of his forehead and curves around his neck creating a bullish shape. Only the face is visible.

"Latex is quite pliable and it moves with him, but it is warmer and he'll sweat more," Jani says.

When asked how it feels, Angove replies, "It feels thick. It's not really uncomfortable but I find I can't hear as well."

Since the prosthetic is a skin-tight fit, he volunteers to shave his hair for a more comfortable feel.

Turning to the makeup table that's covered with form heads, adhesive, acrylic paint, powder, rubbing alcohol, tissues and about 150 brushes, Jani pulls up a pot of lime green pax paint and deftly covers Angove's facial skin. Her plan is to further glue bushy eyebrows using crepe hair, but tonight she just paints the eyebrows.

As Jani paints, Angove talks about Shrek's fat suit that will mask his lean frame and reveals that, at five-foot 11 inches, he will not be wearing thick-soled boots.

"One of the joys of children's theatre is I always look taller than anyone else," he laughs.

When Jani completes the second eyebrow, he stares at the transformation. With a burst of energy in his voice Angove says, "Now I feel like an ogre. I remember Shrek being so expressive and the eyebrows are so expressive. Everything I do is magnified."

A few minutes later after digesting his newfound face, he tries to turn his head discovering the prosthetic is partially limiting his movements.

"Even putting the prosthetic on, it's different moving my head. And it's not just my head, but my shoulders too. Just like an ogre."

Angove, who last watched the animation as a child, is the first to admit he's no Mike Meyers. But he plans to imbue his Shrek with a relatable charm.

Staring at Shrek's image in the mirror he notes, "This is so weird for me. I'm wearing a mask, but it feels very revealing. It's the character and I'm finally embodying him."

Many Fionas

But a character is never complete without its costume, the attire worn to reveal the innermost thought process. Costume designer Melissa Cuerrier, holding several advanced degrees in technical and theory, certainly had a bundle of work cut out for her.

Cuerrier's challenge was creating several hundred whimsical ensembles for 46 actors, many playing double and triple roles. The double whammy was a super tight budget of $5,000.

The result is lavish costume eye candy with ideas borrowed from a hybrid of eras. Adopting influences from medieval to contemporary times, Cuerrier has worked towards creating a tactile effect to the visual story and a personality for each character.

After reading the script, she spent hundreds of hours plundering the theatre's costumes collection, trawling fabric shops for special deals and borrowing garments from Karries Kostumes.

"This is a very special show. All the characters have to be iconic and fun. But they have to be very specific. You can't just put a pair of pants on them like High School Musical or Legally Blonde," Cuerrier said.

For Cuerrier it meant hundreds of hours of research, creative thought and costume construction. Peter Pan, for instance, wears a vest made from leaves topped by a green slice hat similar to one worn by Errol Flynn in his role as Robin Hood.

One of the most elaborate-looking costumes is the Pied Piper's. Adapted from a renaissance look, it is constructed from drapery fabric and satin-back crepe.

Cuerrier's biggest challenge was making Princess Fiona costumes.

"Let me count them. There's child Fiona, teenager Fiona, princess Fiona, princess ogre Fiona, wedding Fiona, wedding ogre Fiona and possibly a body double," says Cuerrier counting on her fingers.

Speaking of Fiona, will Cuerrier drop a hint on the theatre magic that transforms Fiona from human to ogre back to human and ogre?

Neither Cuerrier nor Jani wanted to spoil the surprise. But judging from a preview of the amount of work invested and the stunning results, the stagecraft alone is worth the price of admission.