Adapting a play for the screen is always a risky endeavour. You lose the immediacy of a rapt audience’s reaction, but you gain an intimacy in performance that the forced distance of a stage performance can never give you. Which makes casting so very important, and it is often the element that makes or breaks an adaptation’s success. Luckily, Julia Neil and Jacob Z. Smith’s cinematic version of Lisa Hagen’s Dancing on the Elephant hits the jackpot in that regard.
The Canadian dramedy follows acting legends Sheila McCarthy and Mary Walsh as Nora and Edna, respectively, two 70-somethings in a Cape Breton retirement home known as Shady Rest. Nora has just arrived, dropped off by one of her four sons despite her resistance and protests about losing her autonomy. Edna is a long-time resident who takes Nora under her wing and shows her the ropes and the fun that can still be had despite everything.
They are a study in contrasts. Nora is quiet, respectful, rule-conscious, and, despite a recent small stroke, completely capable of taking care of herself. Edna is loud, brash, rebellious, and, as is slowly revealed, is suffering from increasing bouts of memory loss and dementia. What they have in common is a quick intelligence and a need to break free from the confines of their current circumstances.
Their quick friendship is believable and refreshing, both through the script–adapted by Hagen herself–and through the fantastic performances from McCarthy and Walsh. Often, stories deal with friends who come with years of memories, love, and emotional baggage, so it’s also refreshing to see two older women meet and choose each other as new companions in their golden years. These roles, too, feel written for these particular actresses, and it’s almost surprising to note that they existed in any format beforehand. The first scenes of the film follow Nora through her new home, and McCarthy says more with her eyes and stubborn silence than many lesser actors could ever hope to achieve. And Walsh excels in a role that could be grating, but is instead layered and filled with authentic emotion. It’s easy to cheer on Edna, even when she’s at her worst, because you can feel the fire in her, and you’d rather see it burn bright than burn out. Watching the two women tolerate the insanities, like exercise classes where they are encouraged to act like cats, is worth the price of admission all on its own.
The supporting characters, though not drawn with much depth, still feel real and integral to the story. There’s Amanda Brugel as the women’s main care nurse, Barbara, and Kevin Kincaid as Nora’s son, Kenny. Barbara is overworked, likely underpaid, and worn down by the general shenanigans that her patients get up to and by a stormy home life. Initially seen by our lead duo (and somewhat by the audience) as an antagonist, she ultimately shines through as someone who cares deeply about the residents and her own family, preventing any comparisons to Nurse Ratched or similar figures.
Likewise, the film could demonize Kenny (and Nora’s other unseen children) for abandoning her to Shady Rest when it seems unnecessary, but it does an excellent job of showing the difficulties of such decisions. It’s clear Kenny still loves his mother, but in trying to do what’s best for everyone, he clearly hasn’t handled things in the best way–and it’s hard not to judge him for it. But as Hagen’s script shows us, it is never an easy decision to place a loved one in a home, and balancing your own family’s needs alongside those of your parent can be incredibly difficult. But as long as there’s love there, it’s possible to find some common ground.
The only element of Elephant that falters is its use of expositional flashbacks to Edna’s youth. Though a key part of the character’s slide into dementia, the actual scenes from the past feel like they are from a different film. They feel abrupt and disconnected, and perhaps that’s intentional–a nod to how disruptive they are to Edna’s current life–but it doesn’t land that way. Whether it’s the inexperienced, young cast in those scenes or the way they are shot, there’s a lack of emotion at a time when it should be overflowing and overwhelming. The information these scenes provide is essential to the audience’s understanding of the character, and it makes you wonder how those key elements were conveyed in the stage production.
These flashbacks also reveal more secrets about her youth than those around her ever discover. That fact is intriguing. Often, with films like this, all that information would come out eventually, so that the audience and the characters are on the same page. Here, we’re left knowing more about Edna than Nora or Barbara ever found out, and there’s something touching about that. That they could care so much about someone, knowing they’ve obscured their real past and that there are portions of their life they’ll never know about. Love isn’t contingent on full disclosure here; it’s based on pure connection. McCarthy, in particular, does an excellent job of conveying that key point.
Overall, though, Dancing on the Elephant hits all the right beats thanks to its talented leads, its memorable characters, and a heartfelt screenplay. The film is an ode to the fires that continue to burn inside us even as we age, and to the connections and friendships that sustain us through the good times and the bad. It’s a cinematic slice of Canadian life worth seeking out.
