Fifteen Dogs is a weird, weird book. I remember thinking that when I first read it – it was 2015, André Alexis had just won the Giller Prize, and my mother, avid reader of Canadian award-winning books, had passed me her copy. It’s certainly a strange premise: Apollo and Hermes grant human conciousness to fifteen dogs, betting one year of servitude on whether or not they will end up happy at the moment of their death. It’s violent, it’s reflective, it’s tragic, it… contains dog bodily functions that I, a die-hard cat person, tend to not think about all that much.
I picked up the novel for a second time in preparation for this production: and, yup, still weird. This time, though, I tried to picture how one might go about adapting it for the stage. I couldn’t picture it. Surely, it couldn’t be anything but a farce, what with a cast of human actors running around pretending to be dogs.
Fifteen Dogs is funny. Partly, yes, because of the physical comedy of humans acting dog-like, but also because of the witticisms of the text. It’s nowhere near a farce, though, and it loses none of the violence, reflection, tragedy – and, unexpectedly, hope.
It’s a masterful adaptation by Marie Farsi, who also directed the play. A cast of six plays dozens of roles: dogs, gods, and humans. They narrate and comment as an ensemble – or, more accurately and punnily, a Greek chorus. Their dedication to their characters is astounding, and with nothing but their physicality and a simple costume piece, they flit from one character to the next with hardly a pause. Davinder Malhi was a personal favourite who, often literally, throws himself into his various roles: notably Prince, the enthusiastic canine poet, and Zeus, a shimmering angsty rock god.
The novel, which originally takes place in Toronto, is here transported to Montreal, which was audibly enjoyed by the audience. The liberated dogs take refuge on Mont Royal, and the confusing, graffitied parking signs are a delightful touch. Each dogs has its own figurine perched under a spotlight at the foot of the stage, helping us keep track in terms of number and appearance (helpful if, like me, you know next to nothing about dog breeds).
Something that had never even crossed my mind, however, was the difficulty of bearing witness to the death of each dog, much more poignant onstage than on the page. I was awed when, at the death of the very first dog (who we had only known for a few minutes), the audience let out a little cry. It’s difficult to tell exactly who you’re rooting for – both the dogs and the two gods – but I was thankful for the moments of levity when the overarching concept is so bleak.
The play runs for around two and a half hours with an intermission, which is quite long, but I honestly couldn’t think of any potential cuts. The length then is necessary. Still, the piece is well-paced, including during text-heavy moments or monologues – again thanks to the actors’ movement and the dynamic direction. While you might get fidgetty, there are no dull moments. I certainly hope this play will have the chance to live on: a play that is, despite its title, not about what it means to be a dog, but rather what it means to be human.
Fifteen Dogs plays at the Segal Centre until April 21, with discounted tickets for groups, seniors, students, and those under 30. Buy your tickets here!
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