A Very TWISI Give-Away!

diego matamoros

Exciting news, TWISI readers! Welcome to The Way I See It’s first very special theatre contest in association with Soulpepper Theatre. I am really stoked to be able to give away TWO pairs of free tickets to the Soulpepper Lab performance of The Aleph for Monday, March 15th at 8:00pm. According to the Soulpepper website, “Three of Canada’s most celebrated theatre creators, director Daniel Brooks, designer Michael Levine and actor/writer/Soulpepper founding member Diego Matamoros, take inspiration from a short story by Argentine master Jorge Luis Borges to lead them through a fascinating and very personal theatrical journey.”

Here is how the contest works: the first two people to leave a comment below this post and correctly answer the trivia question below will win two tickets to The Aleph March, 15th at 8:00pm. Please provide your name and your email address with your response!

The trivia question is: Daniel Brooks directs The Aleph, playing in the Soulpepper Lab Series. Brooks wrote a play that inspired Bruce McDonald's 1991 film Highway 61, what was the name of the play?

Merde to all! Also, please be patient with the Comment Widget, it can be finicky at times. I find it’s safest to post under “anonymous” but don’t forget to write your name and email address with your answer!

Hooray Theatre Contests!

Don't Stop Believin'... in the Power of You and I

I was initially sceptical and opposed to the 2010 Winter Olympic Games taking place in Vancouver, British Columbia when I learned that the Liberal Government of British Columbia was pouring billions of dollars into these two week games while making atrocious cuts (more than a staggering 90%) to BC’s arts funding by 2011. According to the website Stop BC Arts Cuts, which I encourage you all to check out if you don’t already frequent it, even prior to these cuts, the BC arts and culture sector received the least arts funding of any Canadian province, only 1/20 of 1% of the provincial budget. $47 million dollars will be reduced to $3 million in two years, and then down to about $2.65 million by 2012. This is almost a 92% cut and it will undoubtedly cripple, and in many cases, completely obliterate not only the theatre but all arts and culture ventures in British Columbia. It was difficult for me to justify lending my support to an event, primarily centered around sports and the athletes of the world, which had such an impact on desecrating one of our provinces’ theatre and artistic communities.

Then something magical happened in Vancouver that made me change my mind. I am not exactly certain where it began; perhaps it was as we all jumped to defend ourselves against the British press’ premature, disparaging and condescending premonitions for our inevitable doom and failure. Perhaps as the medals kept rolling excitingly and somewhat unexpectedly toward us the hyperbole we had been hearing (and dismissing) for months, “we were made for this,” “own the podium,” “I believe-” all suddenly clicked. Regardless, this is when I realized that not supporting my country’s athletes was not going to increase the support for my country’s artists. I realized that we are not working in opposition with one another, it is not a choice between “the athletes or the artists” of Canada, but integral that we both exist side by side.

In listening to the interviews with the Olympians of our country I was struck by the fact that the artists and the athletes share such similar goals and visions for Canada. According to The Conference Board of Canada’s resource Strengthening Canada: The Socio-economic Benefits of Sports Participation in Canada by Michael Bloom, Michael Grant and Douglas Watt, the general benefits of participating in sports include: 1. the change it instigates in individuals, including their health and well-being, their social networks and sense of social connection and their skills. 2. the affect it has on communities, including the social cohesion and social capital of communities. 3. the impact it has on the economy in creating jobs and providing work for thousands and 4. the help it gives to shaping our national and cultural identities. The exact same arguments have been made for the benefits of participating in the Arts. John Furlong expressed his hope in his speech at the Closing Ceremonies of the 2010 Olympic Winter Games, “that every Canadian child - be they from Chicoutimi, Moncton, Grand Prairie, Squamish or Niagara Falls - will have the chance to grow up to experience the pleasure of sport ... no one left out. And that we of the global Olympic family will not rest until the right of every child to play across this planet is secured.” Canadian Bobsledder Shelley-Ann Brown, the first black Canadian woman to win a gold medal at the Winter Olympics, reflected this dream by saying, “I’m so proud to be Canadian, so proud to be black, so proud to be of Jamaican heritage, so proud to be female. I hope little girls in Canada see this, see what I accomplished and realized it doesn’t matter your background. You can do anything in sports if you work hard enough, no matter where you come from.” Yet, Brown’s words transcend even sports in their poignancy because whether we are Olympic athletes or celebrated artists, we share the same passion for our various crafts; we demonstrate the same determination to achieve our goals, to overcome obstacles and to share the outcomes of our skills and our talents with others.

For me, my enlightened “Eureka!” moment came from the utterly inspiring, extraordinarily talented Clara Hughes, Canada’s six-time Olympic medalist. When asked in an interview if we can consider her Canada’s “greatest Olympic Athlete” she said, “Canada is full of great people in arts, music and education. I just consider myself a Canadian.” A Canadian. It seems so simple, and yet if we all consider ourselves to be Canadians and belonging to a country that includes and values its athletes, its artists, its educators, its community leaders and its health care practitioners, than we are not dividing our population as though back in High School between the popular jock, drama dork, assertive debater and geeky nerd, but instead we support the inclusion of everyone. Our government may at times pit us against one another as we all struggle for our voices to be heard and our interests to be encouraged and championed within our federal and provincial budgets; yet, this country is made up of unique individuals, people like Clara Hughes, and if we continue to support the ventures of one another, especially in the face of obstruction from our own governments, Canada will grow to be a stronger, more vibrant, dynamic and thriving place to be.

Throughout the Olympics I watched something extraordinary happen. I watched my humble, self-deprecating, insecure little Canada slowly swell with tentative pride. It wasn’t the sort of pride that sought to deflate or weaken others, but it was a beautiful glow, maybe even a golden one, shining from the heart, sparking in the eyes, that spilled out into the streets and turned a hockey game into the spreading of the sort of good cheer and goodwill that you don’t even see at Christmas. We stood united and glorious in our red jerseys, our red mittens and, if only for a moment, our national inferiority complex shattered into a million pieces. John Furlong expressed this incredible experience thus, “we Canadians tonight are stronger, more united, more in love with our country and more connected with each other than ever before. These Olympic Games have lifted us up.” Yes. We have been lifted up and we have collectively realized and quietly, sheepishly, but proudly, acknowledged the greatness innate to Canada. The world was watching us and, regardless what the British media said initially, the outpouring of support that we saw and we felt has been just as incredible. American journalist Bill Plaschke wrote this beautiful article about his experience in Vancouver for the Los Angeles Times in which he writes, “Forget the medal counts and podium ceremonies, there was only one true winner here, the beauty and breadth of its land equalled only by the daily kindness of its people. Canada, you were gold. For two weeks, you lived your anthem, your hearts glowing like that moon that hung nightly over the Burrard Inlet, a light on the front porch of a house that felt like a home.” As a nation, we have so much more than sports to be proud of.

In the months to come, I urge you to not let your Canadian pride fizzle. Do not forget the feelings that accompanied watching the incredible exhibition of skill, the defiance of odds, the inspiring integrity and grace and talent that was showcased so ardently in Vancouver 2010. There is such potential here for an extraordinary surge in the support for a wide array of Canadian ventures, including much-needed support for our artists and our theatre communities. Before the Olympics I knew that we had strong hockey and curling teams, I knew that we excelled in figure skating and that I could trust Sidney Crosby to save the day, but I had no idea of the scope of our nation’s athletes and their ability and their skill. I was pleasantly surprised by the revelation that of all the countries competing, many with populations that far exceed our own, we could achieve third place and break the record for most gold medals won by a host country. In the exact same way, I know there are millions of Canadians who would be similarly surprised, but I think also pleased, to know that Canadian playwrights are creating theatrical works right now that rival the plays coming out of New York and London and our indigenous plays are being produced frequently around the world. Our theatre artists create exciting and unique productions that continually push the boundaries and redefine what theatre is and what it is capable of expressing, communicating and being. Ultimately, I think that it is an incredibly exciting time to be Canadian, to live in this country and for us all to strive toward accomplishing our goals and realizing our dreams. Whether we are athletes or artists, butcher, bakers or candlestick makers, it is time for us to come together and to stand as Canadians with a unified vision of a country that values each of our own unique talents and contributions. We cannot exist at odds with one another, nor at the expense of one another, we must strengthen our connections and work together to truly realize and seize this opportunity for Canada to invest and really take pride in its myriad of accomplishments. The Olympics helped me to believe in this possibility, but as we all return to our own lives and regularly scheduled programming, now is the time for us all to show our true colors and to really live the dream.

The Communal Power of Communion

athena lamarre, caroline gillis and sarah dodd

photo by cylla von tiedemann

Whenever I see a Daniel MacIvor play I can’t help being overcome with this strange nagging notion that his play was written specifically for me. Of course, this is obviously not the case, but without fail, each time the thoughts of his characters spill forth in candid hilarity or poignant profundity I find myself wondering how Daniel MacIvor managed to infiltrate my brain and suck out my secret thoughts and know the observations I have shoved so far back in the darkest corner of my mind that I haven’t even properly articulated them to myself yet. And yet, there these things all are, springing to life and ringing with a poetry that only Daniel MacIvor can script. For me, this guarantees a magical life at the theatre and MacIvor’s newest play, Communion, playing at Tarragon Theatre until April 4th, 2010, is certainly no exception.

A wise friend of mine believes that “all art is asking us, ‘Do you ever notice this?’”, and I think that MacIvor is a brilliant example of an artist who does just that. Since his plays are incredibly perceptive and have the ability to capture unique and detailed aspects of the human experience that we all share, the audience becomes instantly mesmerized by the characters he is presenting and drawn fervently into the stories that emerge from them. Communion begins with Leda, a terminally ill former alcoholic, trying vehemently to connect to her therapist, Carolyn. While Carolyn attempts to rouse enlightenment in her client through the use of specific, rigid questions and repetition untainted by judgements or opinions, Leda searches frantically for proof of Carolyn’s humanity. The result is one of the funniest therapy sessions of all time as Leda breaks all the rules by saturating her answers with sarcasm, throwing questions back to Carolyn and generally striving to be as difficult, evasive, aggressive and stubborn as possible. This simultaneously suggests the absurdity of the dynamics created by this sort of therapy and quickly evolves into a fascinating boxing match between Leda and her deepest fears.

Caroline Gillis makes a sharp departure from her previous two roles in MacIvor’s A Beautiful View and How It Works, which highlighted her endearingly quirky and awkward humour; with Leda she submerges herself in a much darker, and arguably deeper, well. She gives a beautifully compelling performance, striking a remarkable balance between evoking compassion and eliciting laughter. It can be argued that most playwrights haunt their work, but I felt that especially in this piece, Daniel MacIvor’s voice and presence seemed especially vivid in Leda, which is perhaps why the play resonates so strongly with me. Sarah Dodd plays Carolyn and barely speaks throughout the entire first scene of the play. Her reactions to Gillis’ antics are precise and subtle and her voice is so unbelievably steady and inexpressive that one becomes fascinated to see what would happen if Leda succeeded in breaking Carolyn’s stoic facade. When Dodd’s character cracks open in the third scene, we learn (not surprisingly) that she is just as lost and confused as everyone else.

Athena Lamarre plays Leda’s daughter, Annie, a young girl who has attached herself to an extreme patriarchal religious sect in an attempt to find the stability she did not have growing up with an alcoholic mother. Lamarre beautifully taints Annie’s exhibition of peace and serenity with a sharp, defensive, angry sense of fear. Throughout the play the lines MacIvor scripts for Annie say “I don’t care,” but the emotion comes from Lamarre whose actions so poignantly reveal the depth and scope of her feelings.

The word Communion can refer to the sacrament of the Eucharist received by a congregation or the part of the Mass or a liturgy in which the Eucharist is received. Leda refers to this Communion as the “Catholic Fashion Run-Way” as she recalls watching people intently as they came from Communion when she was a child. The word also means an interchange or sharing of thoughts and emotion or of holding in common and this commonality and desire to connect honestly and openly with one another seems to be the source of his play’s lasting power. When I was little, Holy Communion was my favourite part of Mass for this exact same reason and so in response to my wise friend’s question, I find myself saying, “Yes. Actually, I do notice that.” Daniel MacIvor may not have written Communion specifically for me, but in its ability to share and to create a fellowship with people, I think it’s fair to say that he’s written this play for us.

Communion plays until April 4th at Tarragon Theatre (30 Bridgeman Avenue). For more information or to book your tickets please call 416.531.1827 or visit www.tarragontheatre.com.

Politics are Dangerous; Talk is Essential

(l to r) kevin bundy (gordon) and michael rubenfeld (josh) in a scene from the harold green jewish theatre company production of talk by michael nathanson. photo credit: racheal mccaig

I’m sure it won’t surprise any of my frequent readers to know that I have an ardent interest in the history and popular culture of the 1960s. The idea of the young people of the world burning with a communal fire in their bellies and the passion and courage to change the world, thrust open the doors of unchartered waters and to attack prejudice and bigotry has always appealed to me. The fact that the heartbeat of this revolution was resonating so strongly in the popular music of the time is even more inspiring to me. When I had the opportunity to take one of Dalhousie University’s most unique English classes, “Bob Dylan and the Literature of the Sixties” taught by Dr. Andrew Wainwright, I obviously leapt at the chance. In this class we watched a documentary which dramatized the argument that even the most seemingly innocuous actions are innately political. This idea has remained vividly with me and it was, of course, especially relevant in the 1960s when wearing a bra, smoking a joint, where you sat on the bus and how you wore your hair were all intensely political decisions. Yet, this argument is still incredibly relevant in our world today. Michael Nathanson’s riveting play, Talk, playing until March 20th at the Jane Mallett Theatre (a Harold Green Jewish Theatre Production), is one such example. It tells the story about the loss of a friendship and emphasises how strongly politics remains embedded within our daily interactions with one another.Talk is also about the power of words, as words are arguably all we have with which to express our beliefs, our values and our perspectives. These words can be meticulously chosen or swathed in ignorance and they have the ability to destroy while being so limiting and inadequate. In Talk an eighteen year relationship between Josh, a Jewish man from Winnipeg and his best friend Gordon, a non-Jewish man who has since moved to Europe, threatens to be shattered because of one loaded word: Palestine. With one word, Josh learns that his best friend supports the Palestinians and not the Israelis in the conflict in the Middle East and this threatens to tear them apart.

What is so interesting about this play is that it is not about “right” and “wrong” so much as it is about feelings of jealousy, betrayal, loyalty, pride and passion and how each of these emotions can block our ability to listen and to really hear what even our closest friends are saying. Talk is a play that focuses more on the way that these issues are discussed than on the issues themselves, which actually accentuates a substantially larger issue. How much of the conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians is about facts, terms and logistics and how much is embedded in an intricate web of emotion which skews the people’s ability to communicate freely with one another?

The brilliance in Michael Nathanson’s story is that the flawed nature of both Gordon and Josh shines stunningly through their arguments revealing not only their biases, prejudices and the holes in their logic, but also their unwavering humanity. Kevin Bundy plays Gordon as a quite methodical, quantified and composed man who wishes to present the research his girlfriend, a French Palestinian activist, has provided him with to Josh and for Josh to condone his role in this activism. What is so interesting about Bundy’s performance is that, while many of Gordon’s opinions are compelling, he presents them to Josh as though they were discussing an entirely unequivocal matter. Michael Rubenfeld’s Josh, on the other hand, is far more passionately engaged and emotional in his support for Israel, using humour to deflect much of his defensiveness and lashing out in sudden, and complex, frustration. Together, Bundy and Rubenfeld create a rich and sweet friendship for Josh and Gordon which insures that it tugs grippingly on the heartstrings as the weight of their words slowly smother their ease and familiarity.

Director Ted Dykstra uses crisp lighting techniques which snaps the action between the conversation between Gordon and Josh, and each one’s own inner monologues during which they established firm relationships with the audience. Although the play can be considered quiet stationary, Bundy and Rubenfeld are always filled with a sense of momentum which is expressed clearly in the way they are positioned in their chairs and culminate with their leaping to their feet and catapulting themselves and their ideas straight toward the audience with vigour and urgency.

Talk is a play that needs to engage with its audience because the twisted dichotomies that are raised by Josh and Gordon warrant shrewd reflection and consideration. At first I vehemently agreed with Josh when he said, “Being a Jew is a dangerous thing... you don’t understand, you’re not Jewish.” I remembered the awe I felt as a child learning about the Holocaust for the first time when I realized that these people had such loyalty and conviction to their faith and their culture that most would not do what I thought I would surely do, lie and deny and try to wiggle my way out of death’s grimy clutches. I admired the Jews so much for that integrity. In Talk, however, for the first time I allowed myself to wonder whether I have been conditioned to blindly accept the fact that I cannot understand particular human experiences simply because I’m not Jewish. As a child I admired the integrity of the Jews because my faith in Catholicism, in Jesus, even in God, was definitely not strong enough for me to refuse to renounce it in the face of torture. Yet, as an adult, I know that I have my own principles which I feel confident that I would uphold regardless of the circumstances. I believe in Human Rights and Equality, for example, and I am terrifically proud to be Canadian. Does respecting the fact that I don’t understand the Jewish experience and therefore assuming that an opinion from the Jewish perspective regarding an issue like the conflict in Israel is more informed than my own allow for an open discussion between us, or does it, conversely (and ironically), still divide us? Josh is “other” because he “understands”; Gordon is “other” because he doesn’t? And, just because Josh is Jewish, does he, who lives in Winnipeg, really innately “understand”? Where does this leave us and where can we go from here?

The human experience is fascinating because it can be so insular. We live our own individual lives and yet we cannot hide from our explicit connection to the rest of the world. It is this way that our actions and our words are continually marred by politics and, like in Talk, we can find that even our most personal relationships can reflect the struggles and conflicts taking place beyond our borders, whether we want them to or not.

Talk plays at the Jane Mallet Theatre, St. Lawrence Centre for the Arts, (27 Front Street East) until March 20th, 2010. Tickets are $20 to $69 and can be purchased in person at the St. Lawrence Centre Box Office, by phone at 416.366.7723 416.366.7723 or 1.800.708.6754 1.800.708.6754 , or online at www.stlc.com. For more information, please visit www.hgjewishtheatre.com.  

Monkeying Around At Comedy Bar

david shore

It is with great sadness that I write about the end of Monkey Toast, David Shore’s hilariously inventive, quirkily brilliant improvised talk show. Monkey Toast is coming to an end on May 1st, 2010 after a seven year run because Shore is relocating to the United Kingdom with his family. There are six more opportunities for you to catch this show at the Comedy Bar (March 13th and 27th, April 10th and 24th and May 1st at both 8pm and 10pm) before it is wrapped up tight and tossed headlong into the Walt Disney vault. The show has been heralded, “The best comedy deal in town!” by NOW Magazine and boasts of a cast of some of the funniest improvisers our country has to offer. I attended the show in October, 2009 and absolutely fell in love with the premise, so upon hearing that these Toasts were numbered, I quickly made my way to Comedy Bar on February 27th for an evening guaranteed to be bananas. I was not mistaken.

Monkey Toast is essentially a talk show. It is divided into three main segments and in each segment David Shore interviews a notable or distinguished figure, often at least one guest will be an actor and typically the first guest is a comedian, but the middle guest can be anyone creating a buzz in our community, be that in politics, business, sports or another avenue of public life. What sets Monkey Toast apart from conventional talk shows are the Monkey Toast Players, a group of improvisers who are called in every fifteen minutes or so to do an improvised set based (loosely and hysterically) on the topics of conversation between Shore and his guest. It is a brilliant concept that always inspires kooky characters, strange locations and accents and a plethora of fruitful ideas.

The February 27th edition of Monkey Toast was kicked off by an Olympic stand up comedy set by Trevor Boris, most well known from Much Music’s Video on Trial as well as performing his stand up at Universities and Comedy Clubs across the country. Boris had just returned from Vancouver and so he was not only decked out head to toe in official Canadian Olympic gear, but he was also teaming with tales from the heart of the games. Trevor Boris is one of the most charming stand up comedians I have ever seen perform. He has a face that I’m sure could get away with murder, and a playful delivery that helps all his jokes hit their proper mark. Next, Kim Parlee from Business News Network prepared us all for the Federal Budget and alleviated some of our national fears for the future by telling us that some financial analysts are predicting that the United States will go bankrupt within the next two years. And lastly, the very engaging Zaib Shaikh came by to chat about his very popular Canadian television show Little Mosque on the Prairie. It was so inspiring to listen to Shaikh speak about his experience with this program and how grateful he was to have a project that has allowed him to explore his Muslim culture and to talk about it in a post-9-1-1 world. He has traveled across the country and has seen the effect this show has had on Muslim Canadians and how it has helped to weave their particular experience into the fabric of the country. He told a particularly heart-warming story about a young boy named Amaar (the name of his character on the show) who connected to him so ardently because he had never heard his name on television before. At the same time, Little Mosque has reached out to Canadians of all cultures and Shaikh expressed a characteristically Canadian, modest- almost sheepish- sense of pride that a show that has been so constructive in presenting a positive portrayal of the Islamic faith and its people has come from Canada.

The Improvisation that inter-spliced these interviews cannot be recaptured in mere words, but truly needs to be experienced to be believed. The Monkey Toast Players (Colin Mochrie, Lisa Merchant, Paul Bates, Naomi Snieckus, Matt Baram and Jan Caruana) were led valiantly this particular evening by Matt Baram. Highlights from the Improv included: Baram’s over emotional, wide-eyed, Olympically weepy schmuck, the singing of the Belgium National Anthem by Bates and Mochrie, discussions of the Backward Luge Schwallob and Schbatchaball vs. Bingo, a waffle mountain that you won’t see at the Winter Olympics 2014, Colin Mochrie stealing an odd (but wildly entertaining) pen-paling-through-time-travel scene with the line, “Dear Donna. I am a bear” and then going on to steal another scene, one centering on Jan Caruana’s brilliant character, Gus 8, Not Cool, a 15 year old boy from Glengarry Glen Ross High School. Mochrie stole this scene while sitting at the back of the room on his chair. You can tell a great improviser when he doesn’t even have to get up to make the audience fall down laughing. Caruana and Mochrie also did this incredible scene in which he was a wood-nymph and she was a Native Canadian named Little Bear, and throughout all the characters spoke in impressive heightened poetic type verse, although Baram won “Best Line of the Evening” for saying (while speaking as one of two TimBits), “Put us balls inside your mouth.” The best of Matt Baram, however, was undoubtedly his impromptu Les Misèrables moment as he sang an improvised duet with Jan Caruana (a belting diva of the Improvised stage). For all of you who thought Ron Pederson was the only song and dance man in The National Theatre of the World, it seems as though both Pederson and Baram can break out the Broadway if you let the monkey out of the cage.

I am really sad that Monkey Toast will end on May 1st because it really is such a unique venture, and it is certainly one of the most vibrant opportunities that theatre and comedy artists have to be interviewed and to plug their various projects in Toronto, especially in a venue embedded so richly within the comedy community. I say this honestly, not as a girl fishing for opportunities, but genuinely without any ulterior motive, that when I first heard about Monkey Toast it became an aspiration of mine to want to gain enough “popularity” or “celebrity” or success to someday be able to be a guest on the show. It was so inspiring to just have something so special and so Canadian to be able to aspire towards since we don’t have a Canadian Oprah Winfrey or Ellen DeGeneres, or Rosie O’Donnell or Johnny Carson or David Letterman. They all seemed to pale in comparison anyway, because Monkey Toast is far funnier, far more fun, and ours.

However, rejoice Toronto, for you haven’t missed what Trevor Boris calls, “The best show in the city!” for there are still six more shows left before the barrel of monkeys take their final bows. You’re going to want to catch all six.

It's Never Anything Until It's Something. This Show's Something.

andrew church, michelle langille, jason matheson, alison mackay

There are certain plays that, when performed well, seem like particularly good launching pads for people who don’t regularly attend the theatre. These productions are immensely valuable because they manage to find a precarious balance between evoking a resemblance to popular film or television, while still managing to capture the theatrical essence which is so unique and vital to the stage. The Volition Theatre Co-op’s production of Neil LaBute’s play The Shape of Things (2001), playing until Sunday March 7th, 2010 at the DeLeon White Art Gallery, is one such production. I would encourage all my theatrically savvy readers to attend this show with someone who, perhaps, swore off plays when he or she became royally baffled by Troilus and Cressida or bored by Major Barbara. LaBute may be just the impetus needed to shake out certain dusty old concepts of “theatre.”

Neil LaBute is an incredibly skilled writer who brilliantly uses the theatre as a means of presenting debates and constant opposing, overlapping, volatile and contradictory perspectives tightly and seamlessly woven into a fascinating and ultimately disturbing tale about characters that are rich in their idiosyncrasies and deficiencies, gripping in their ordinariness, and often simultaneously entrancing and deplorable. The Shape of Things is ultimately about the power of persuasion and our society’s obsession with the pursuit of physical perfection. LaBute hinges The Shape of Things on a dramatic twist at the end, a perversion of the story of Pygmalion, which calls into question the nature of art and the artist’s place in the world. What are the consequences of “art” being created “at any cost”? Is the price ever too high and who decides? Creation and destruction, subjectivity and morality, art and life, LaBute makes the lines between each one both ambiguous and provocative.

Director David Tompa places this production of The Shape of Things, a play so saturated with art, in a contemporary art gallery, and a different painting done by a local artist is hung as a backdrop for each scene. The choice of location is a perfect one for the ambiance suits LaBute’s style and tone and provides great intimacy for an audience snugly convened between long white curtains, focused directed at all times toward the four performers. One could study the works of art chosen in depth, I’m sure, and reflect on correlations in theme and style between the painting and its corresponding scene. Without focusing too exclusively on the art, however, I was acutely aware of how natural each piece seemed to be within its environmental context of the play. Tompa’s concept never seemed forced and all the paintings added a vibrant shot of color to the drab whiteness of the space. R.J. Peters’ set is remarkably simple, yet magically versatile. Throughout the play I was continually so impressed with how inventive Peters had been in creating the most professional set and lighting for his cast as possible from the resources available to him.

Tompa’s cast is uniformly impressive. Jason Matheson gives a particularly fantastic performance as Adam, an awkwardly timid, dorkily endearing, horrifically insecure self-described “English Lit prick” who allows himself to be guided by the whims of his girlfriend, Evelyn. Evelyn is played by Michelle Langille and she is undeniably the most convoluted character in the play. Langille’s performance is an impressive one, particularly when Evelyn is spewing her impassioned philosophies about art. She gives this brilliant lecture which captures an unsettling coldness and detachment in Evelyn perfectly. I wish that the run of this play were a longer one because I think that with more time Langille would have the opportunity to discover even more depth to this epic onion of a woman, depth which I think would especially enrich Evelyn’s relationships with the other characters. I wanted Evelyn to have a bit more fierceness and bite to her and for there to be an urgent sense of crispness in her dialogue with Adam, as though she were always waiting to pounce. Her iciness, however, was acute enough to freeze a fish. Andrew Church was bitingly funny as Philip, Adam’s fun-loving and adventuresome best friend who spends the entire play deflecting and repressing his reservations about taking the plunge and marrying his girlfriend Jenny. Church is excellent at releasing Philip’s emotions in the most controlled and covert ways emphasizing how hollow even communication between friends can be and how delicately intimacy hangs in this balance. Alison MacKay plays sensitive Jenny, a girl bursting with heart and struggling with her own feelings of inadequacy. MacKay is especially poignant in a scene near the end of the play with Langille and Matheson which is heart breaking to watch. Her chemistry with Matheson is absolutely lovely.

In all, The Volition Theatre Co-op have presented an invigorating piece of theatre with The Shape of Things and one that not only brings a strong script certain to incite discussion to Toronto, but also in proving that these young, vibrant theatre artists are willing to tackle rich, meaty material and they are able to bring this story to life with integrity and skill. I know that in the doing of such a play these performers will be learning innumerable critical lessons with each performance that they will carry with them beyond the run of this show. I am fascinated to see what comes from this group next.

The Shape of Things is going to sell out its run because space is extremely limited, so I would urge you all to email to reserve your space right away- The Shape of Things runs at 8pm Thursday to Sunday, March 7th, 2010 at the DeLeon White Art Gallery (1139 College Street- West of Dufferin). Tickets are $15.00. Email: volitioncoop@gmail.com before it sells out!

The Courage is In the Questions

melissa macpherson, erin mackinnon, brandon mcgibbon,

tom barnett, maurice dean wint, tom rooney, patrick galligan

photo by cylla von tiedemann.

When do my rights trump your rights and how does that constitute fairness? How can we strive for “equality” when so often specific demographics of society are given special consideration? Do we really want to be treated just the same as everyone else? These questions are at the root of Michael Healey’s new play Courageous, which I saw at the Tarragon Theatre on February 7th and is currently playing (with some significant cast changes) at the Citadel Theatre (Rice) in Edmonton until March 14th, 2010.

Michael Healey, most well-known for his Governor General’s Award winning playing The Drawer Boy (1999), is a terrific writer. In this play, he thrusts his audience into a dramatic fray as Tom, a Justice of the Peace, tries to keep the bride, Tamara, from killing her immature and dimwitted fiancé, Todd, and her promiscuous best friend, Lisa, long enough to get married. The dialogue is sharp, witty and crisp, so the audience becomes immediately invested in his characters and the world he has created for them. Much of Healey’s strength and charm as a playwright is in his continual balance between making his audience laugh and encouraging them to reflect on the complex issues that emerge from within the humour.

Tom, the Justice of the Peace, is a gay Catholic utterly preoccupied with reconciling his beliefs and his lifestyle. To make matters more complicated, he refuses to perform a marriage ceremony for Brian and Martin, citing the fact that his religion does not condone gay marriage. Brian, an adroit lawyer vehement in the protection of his rights, vows lawful economic revenge, while Tom’s partner, Arthur, fed up with Tom’s inability to “focus on properly sucking [his] cock,” seeks vengeance on both of them by luring Martin, with whom he had once had a one night stand, back into his bed. None of these characters are particularly honourable, but their weakness, their slippery contradictions and a steady dose of fear, insecurity and self-destruction makes them fascinating specimens of humanity.

Through it all, Michael Healy manages to keep driving home questions that I think deserve ardent contemplation, although I have a suspicion there are either too many answers for them or none at all. Can Christians claim that their belief that gay marriage is against the sacrament should be respected and upheld just as stringently as a gay person’s right to believe that marriage should be an equal right for couples of all beliefs, customs, cultures and genders? How far are we asked to tolerate the beliefs of others before “human rights commissions” are liable to become involved? In the play, Arthur makes the argument that Canadian laws protect its citizens from religion, and that in the countries in the world where religion reigns supreme, the people are the most oppressed. Surely there are certain ideologies that preach hatred and intolerance which must be eradicated to protect people from violence, subjugation, and tyranny, but doesn't it seem ironic that we should have to have a world policy which is intolerant to intolerance?

The Second Act of Healey’s play returns to Tamara, Todd and Lisa and it has an entirely different construction than the First Act. Here, Todd acts like a narrator, affable, nearly endearing, amid his stupidity, apathy and his ability to be completely oblivious to the need for him to actively assume responsibility for himself and his young family. Todd is suddenly confronted with George, a recent immigrant from Somalia, who appears to be given special advantages by the Canadian Government, simply because he is new to the country. Healey skilfully alludes to the fact that this situation is a potential hotbed for envy to convert to racism, while choosing to tell another story. Instead, George becomes an invaluable friend as Todd and Tamara’s life continues to crumble into financial ruin and Postpartum Depression. This situation gives rise to just as many difficult questions centering on race, religion and the feelings of entitlement that come from being born into the Western World.

The performances in the Tarragon production were absolutely phenomenal. Melissa MacPherson gave a fierce performance as Lisa with evocative spurts of vulnerability which made her character rise beyond an unflattering stereotype. Erin MacKinnon hit the dramatic mark in Act One, but shone brightest in the Second Act as Tamara’s ability to function slowly regressed and her weariness consumed her wholeheartedly. MacKinnon was also exceptional in her realistic crying skills, which I greatly appreciated. Tom Rooney gave a subtle performance as the meek, impressionable Martin, which was complimented nicely by both Patrick Galligan and Maurice Dean Wint. Galligan was relentless as Brian, giving a performance that was both awing and impressive. Wint played Arthur with meticulous poise and staunch charm and made George the most likeable character in the play. Brandon McGibbon infused Todd with boyish, awkward, nonchalant amicability to incredible effect, which especially enlivened his interactions with the audience. Tom Barnett made Tom utterly fascinating: simultaneously admirable and exasperating, a weak man fraught with the strongest of resolve. Barnett brought so much life to this walking contradiction, it was impossible not to feel compassion for him. Richard Rose’s direction seemed seamless and connected the pieces of Healey’s puzzle together fluidly without forcing any one argument.

The play is called Courageous, but is it brave? I was struck by an informed article on the play by David Bateman at Xtra, which suggests that Healey approached the gay issues in this play in a cowardly manner. In my opinion, Courageous is not a ‘gay play,’ nor is it a ‘race play’ or a ‘religion play,’ it is a play based on the study of the interactions between all three. Can Healey remain objective in the creation of these characters? He certainly cannot simplify the issues. Yet, I think spawning debates, encouraging audiences to think critically, even if they are provoked to the point of wanting to scream back at a character mid-monologue, is essential to a living work of theatre. Healey does not connect all the dots, but he shouldn't have to. He paints the world as being confusing and contradictory, and he refuses to feed his audience reassurances. It is in this way that I think this play has earned its title.  

Courageous plays at the Rice Theatre in the Citadel Theatre Complex (9828-101A Avenue, Edmonton, Alberta) until March 14th, 2010. For tickets or more information please call 780.425.1820 or visit online at www.citadeltheatre.com.