Jacques Brel is Living Somewhere Between Cabaret and Recital…

In every situation where I have excelled and felt empowered, encouraged and infused with a strong sense of my own potential, my inspiration has been drawn from those who are older, and more experienced, and whose work excites me and makes me want to learn and to be better. I may get into trouble for saying this so candidly, but even so, here it is: the institution that I currently attend makes me feel like I am merely fulfilling the scholarly component of my life (going through the motions as solely a means to an end in a vacuum of “No, you can’t”- and role models are a diamond in the rough.
So rarely do I hear of PhD students reaching out beyond the Drama Centre, possibly because it is mildly discouraged, and the fissure between the academic study of drama and the practice of creating theatre there is so wide a small planet could fit between them. One of the few exceptions I have is Chris Jackman, who works diligently to find the balance between his scholarship and his practical goals. His most recent project is Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris, which he directed and is playing at the Cameron House until Saturday March 28th, 2009 with his newly found theatre company open corps. For this alone, I give Chris Jackman props and encourage him to continue to forge his path in the theatre community wherever his curiosity takes him.
Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris is an American revue of the songs of Belgium singer/songwriter Jacques Brel which debut at the Village Gate Theatre in Greenwich Village in 1968 to moderate success, and enjoyed subsequent international revivals. It is a difficult show to tackle. There seems to me to be three successful ways to elevate a string of songs from being a concert (or recital), to being a musical. The first is to write a story which uses only song to tell a linear story, as we can see in a show like Les Misérables or Rent. There are also shows like Cats that tell a rather narrative story, but rely on things like dance to give them strength. The second is to write a song cycle, like Elegies or Songs for a New World, which does not have a single story, or concrete characters, but nevertheless explores a clear theme, with a clear arc that culminates into a sort of through line. The third is to take a bunch of random songs written by a celebrated figure and to force connections upon them by writing a script that somehow weaves them all together in a linear way. Mamma Mia! and We Will Rock You are two such examples. Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris tries to present the random songs written by a celebrated artist without a libretto, but the sense of drive, the through line or theme, is never there.
I think I can imagine this show working in the hands of an experienced group of well-known Cabaret singers, as they have learned how to tell a story entirely through song, how to create honest, clear, unique characters entirely without context and how to express a myriad of sometimes contradictory motivations, objectives and emotions while belting their faces off seamlessly. And that can be one of the most difficult things to ask of a performer. Sharron Matthews is a master at it, but talent like hers is unique.
In Jackman’s show, I got a strong sense of the performers performing. They all have good voices (and they play their own instruments), and I found the general ambiance to be very Brechtian, as every cliché of musical theatre was on boisterous display and I wasn’t sure why. I could see the singers singing, I could see the actors trying to illicit the emotion, but I only got one brief glimpse of an actor just being, once in the song “Jackie.” I know Jackman is supremely interested in process, and so I find it very interesting that his show makes the audience so aware of the wheels turning and of the work being done, but without a context of a story, or even a theme, the political or social potential of the Verfremdungseffekt has nothing to latch hold of.
As an introduction to Brel, this show has piqued my interest in his work and I find that I have a newfound appreciation for how difficult cabaret can be, and how integral those transitions between text and song can be for the actor to get her bearings. I wish I knew more about Jackman’s process and what he was interested in discovering or exploring, but it seems like the biggest obstacle this show faces is this revue’s reliance on the performers’ absolute command of the cabaret genre, which doesn’t lend itself well to young artistic academics trying to learn.
Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris plays at the Cameron House until Saturday March 28th, 2009. 408 Queen Street West (at Spadina). Doors at 7:30. Show at 7:45pm. Tickets are $20.00 ($15.00 for students) and to reserve please email jacquesbreltoronto@gmail.com
Posted in cameron house, chris jackman, sharron matthews | Leave a comment

The (almost) Perfect Show: All the Things I Hold Most Dear

I have been to so many cabarets in the last few weeks, Kander and Ebb could have written a song about me. So, when Bryce Kulak, who I saw perform at Hugh’s Room, told me that he was doing a show as part of Statler’s Cabaret series on March 22nd, I was excited to go, but wasn’t sure if I would blog about it- since I already expressed how talented he was once before (and I don’t want to start repeating myself!). However, then Bryce did something astute and put together an all-star evening of music entitled “The Big Idea” with special famous guests Patricia Zentilli, Michael Hughes, Colin Maier and Lily Ling.
It is one thing for everyone to showcase their own individual talents (it is fantastic, no doubt!), but when the talent starts to overlap, and songwriters share their songs, and duets and harmonies burst forth, and collaborations emerge, this beautiful, clear picture of our vibrant, pulsing, community teeming with brilliance, goodness and modest touches of genius, floats above my head like a guiding star. At one point during the show, Bryce said that Statler’s is a gem, a little piece of New York, in Toronto, and that despite the economy, the talent here in Toronto right now is staggering and exhilarating. I couldn’t agree more, and with the “big ticket” shows dominating Broadway right now, it seems like the time is ripe for us to embrace the potential our city offers artists and the potential that Toronto has to someday become a world leader in the creation of beautiful, dynamic, artful, soulful theatrical endeavors. We sure as hell have the talent, and the potential here is so electrifying it continually pulsates excitedly in my veins as I type faster than I can think. The world is ours. We can do anything. I am all faith and pride.
One of my favourite things about Bryce Kulak is that although he writes beautiful, tender, playful, breathtaking songs, and plays the piano and sings like a dream, he also knows how to put on a great show. He tells funny true stories (mostly about strangers in Edmonton who will never know their own infamy), he always has a witty quip, accompanied by a sincere grin, and he’s big with the innuendo. He began the evening with “Tin Can Telephone” (his voice is like homemade chocolate pudding), sang “Letters From Sadie” (watch his hands, if you can, in this one, it’s mesmerizing) “Old Buildings” and “Ballad of the Orphan Sock” before inviting Lily Ling (I keep waiting for one of her bounces to send her afloat into the air) to accompany him while he introduced us all to some songs that I can guarantee no one had ever heard before. The highlight was “The Drum Major,” a song from 1907 that Kulak performed jauntily to hysterical perfection.
One of my other favourite things about Bryce Kulak is his deep affinity with the world around him. He sees things like buildings, and socks, and tin cans, and he knows how to make us empathize so strongly with them. He sees the loveliness and the poetry in things. He will also go out and find music hall songs that no one has heard since 1914- he will find the delight in them and share them with you.
We were then treated to a beautiful interlude of classical music, the gorgeous Rachmaninoff Vocalise, by Lily Ling and Colin Maier (who can play every instrument in the world, and act, and sing, and he’s an acrobat- it’s incredible). The talent in the room at Statler’s was overwhelming by its sheer volume, but even more incredible was the range of it. I was so excited that “The Big Idea” was able to showcase so many different facets of performers and music. At times there was so much going on, I didn’t know where to look or who to applaud for.
The ever-dazzling Patricia Zentilli, clad in OshKosh overalls, b’gosh, debuted Kulak’s new song “Drudgery,” a poignant tale about how soul-sucking working as a barista can be for an artist struggling to support him or herself. She then sang a gorgeous rendition of my favourite of Kulak’s songs “Paper and String,” which I think may be one of the loveliest pieces of music ever written. I know that is a gigantic statement to make- but I think this song absolutely warrants consideration. Go buy his album “Tin Can Telephone” right this moment on ITunes and see for yourself!
As though hearing Patricia Zentilli sing my favourite Bryce Kulak song wasn’t blissful enough, then Michael Hughes and Bryce sang my second favourite song, “You’re My Man,” as a duet, while Colin played an assortment of instruments in succession, including the banjo! Their voices work gorgeously together, the possibilities are endless.
The evening ended with “Pelican”, a song from Kulak’s debut album “Welcome” which is charming with insightful silliness reminiscent of Dr. Seuss or Lewis Carroll and a haunting rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” I strongly urge you to pick up Kulak’s albums and to visit his website for more information, but I must stress that there is nothing like seeing him perform in person. It is also a sheer pleasure, and added bonus, when he is joined by his famous friends. If you missed “The Big Idea”- you’re in luck! “The Big Idea Brunch Cabaret” is happening on Sunday March 29th, 2009 from 1:00-2:00pm at Local 4 Restaurant on 4 Dundonald Street (one block North of Wellesley Subway Station), Toronto. You should go! See ya there!
Posted in bryce kulak, colin maier, lily ling, michael hughes, patricia zentilli, statler's piano lounge | Leave a comment

The Only Travesty is if You Missed It

On March 21st, 2009 at 1:35pm in the Baillie Theatre at Soulpepper I fell in ardent love with Tom Stoppard. One would think that as a graduate student of the theatre, this would have happened to me years ago. But one would be wrong.
Sometimes I see shows that paralyze me with the urgency of language, that make me contemplate the human condition and force me to confront the things I sometimes hide or shy away from in my own existence. I so often walk up Yonge Street breathless with my mind churning, like a hamster on a wheel, groping frantically at a way to make sense of the experience I have just encountered. That is great theatre. And then, sometimes I see shows that make me absolutely giddy with the sheer happiness that stems from being a young theatre aficionado. I float out of the theatre rooted in such pride that I belong to this community, and filled with the gratitude and pure joy that such things have been created so that someone like me could ‘get it’ and enjoy it and fall in love for awhile. And that is great theatre too. Travesties, which closed March 21st, 2009, was one such show.
The play was brilliantly directed by Joseph Ziegler who filled the stage with so much detail that it was difficult for an audience member to decide where to look, or what to focus on, but nothing seemed muddled or convoluted, just rich and textured. Ziegler isn’t afraid of silence, of a temperate pace and allowing the art to speak for itself in its own voice. The play itself is a terrifically clever conglomeration of James Joyce, Vladimir Lenin, Tristian Tzara and The Importance of Being Earnest all intertwined in Zurich during World War I. In a way, it is a self-indulgent piece because you can’t help feeling intelligent if you get that Oscar Wilde reference or that joke in French. Oh-ho! Aren’t we clever! But, honestly, Stoppard makes it all just so much damn fun! After all, “Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about.”
The performances in this show were extraordinary. Krystin Pellerin (Cecily) is a fierce, captivating performer infused with poise, grace and shrewd comic timing. I say this with the utmost respect, my initial reaction to her performance was, “wow, she’s going to grow up to be Megan Follows!” Maggie Huculak’s portrayal of Nadya, Lenin’s wife, was a pillar of severity within the play, and she gave a deeply earnest and poignant performance. Oliver Dennis was strong and meticulous as Lenin. When you leave the theatre after the show, you almost feel as though you have seen the Bolshevik leader in person. Kevin Bundy was hilarious as the butler, Bennett, his timing and wry expressions could not be more perfect. Jordan Pettle was absolutely delightful as Tristian Tzara; foppish, and dandyish with complete charm, wit and a fair dose of irony about him. I felt that Sarah Wilson had the most difficult role in the play, as it is difficult to play an innocent, girlish Edwardian ingénue when everyone else’s characters are so rich, nuanced and excitingly intellectual. She did have this wonderful duet though near the end of the play with Pellerin that was absolutely charming.
I came to the conclusion as I walked out of the Baillie Theatre that David Storch is sort of the Johnny Depp of the Canadian theatre scene. He is an incredibly outstanding actor, who always gives so much thought and depth to every character he plays. Also, like Depp, he tends to completely transform himself depending on which role he is currently playing. This is especially fascinating, since, also like Depp, he is usually working on at least two projects simultaneously at any given moment. Storch played James Joyce in Travesties, and, as always, I was struck by how playful he can be, when the script allows for it, and how he knows exactly how to meld sincerity, depth, and integrity while still keeping his character a bit off-kilter. This interpretation worked so well, since the story was being told through the hazy remembrances of an elderly British gentleman, Henry Carr, so it seemed so apt that Joyce would be a little hazy, dreamlike, and almost stereotyped- but not quite. I must also tell you, there is nothing more delightful than watching David Storch sing an Irish ballad and then dance a jaunty jig. Amazing.
It was Diego Matamoros performance as Henry Carr, however, that made me burst a little inside with rapture every time he came onstage. Matamoros played Carr as both a young man and as a senile old coot, and executed both with flair and precision. His portrayal of senile Carr was one of the most hysterical things I have seen in a very long time. He threw himself into every moment of the show one hundred percent and the entire play rode on the back of his proficiency and dynamism. It was truly one of the most all-around impressive performances that I have seen in Toronto this year.
I have rarely been disappointed in the theatre I see at Soulpepper. It is one of my favourite places to see shows, and the actors who tend to return to their stages continue to impress and humble me with each new role they play. I encourage you to support (and frequent) this theatre company. Its new show Glengarry Glen Ross (David Mamet) opens April 2nd, 2009. It would be a travesty to miss it.
Posted in david storch, diego matamoros, jordan pettle, joseph ziegler, krystin pellerin, maggie huculak, oliver dennis, soulpepper theatre | Leave a comment

On Gibson and Ibsen

It has been said that when Nora slammed the door in A Doll’s House the reverberations were felt across the modern world. Henrik Ibsen’s groundbreaking play was written in 1879, and one would think that in one hundred and thirty years, the themes of this play would no longer resonate ardently within contemporary society. One would assume that the moral ambiguities that Ibsen raised in his Victorian play would be reduced to mundane commonalities by 2009, and yet, as I sat in the audience of Florence Gibson’s new play Missing, which plays at the Factory Theatre until April 5th, I was struck about how torn we still are (and I think rightly so) about the repercussions of that slammed door.
Evelyn MacMillan has disappeared, vanished into a fallow field one ordinary day in an unspecified year in the 1970s. Gibson’s play tackles the question of what happened to her, and the endless speculations and contradictions that encroach on the lives of all those living in a small, rural Ontarian town. Can we ever escape? Can we escape the gossip? The town into which we were born? Can we escape from our lives? Can we escape from ourselves? The question that the characters keep returning to is of whether Evelyn MacMillan, like Nora before her, simply got fed up being defined by her role as wife and mother and left. Do we rejoice at a woman exhibiting so much freedom? Do we cheer her and hope she is propelled toward greener pastures? But, then, what of the children? The children are the link between Gibson and Ibsen. How do we feel about the idea of a woman abandoning her children? Missing provides only ambiguities and it complicates itself with a sub-plot involving Carol Seaforth, the officer assigned to Evelyn MacMillan’s case, and her boyfriend Ian, a schoolteacher, who bends over backwards to accommodate his wife’s professional ambitions amid festering irritation and resentment. Does gender matter in selfishness? Where is the balance and how can one achieve it? Is it easier than we first assume for us to eventually become Evelyn MacMillan?
The play owes it dynamism to the performances of some of its actors. Fiona Highet is mesmerizing as Carol Seaforth, a woman so torn between her secret desires and her obligations. Andrew Gillies is equally touching as her boyfriend, Ian, as we see his language and ability to communicate disintegrate throughout the play. I found this relationship to be extremely interesting, and particularly unique at the onset on the play, and I can’t decide whether Gibson’s treatment of these characters is reinforcing a stereotype, only in reverse, or suggestive that under identical circumstances, men and women may not react all that different from one another.
Alan Van Sprang is incredible as Trevor, Evelyn MacMillan’s mixed-up (but beautiful) husband who at times seems incapable of translating his own thoughts and emotions into anything intelligible. Van Sprang can elicit empathy, distain and pity from the audience nearly simultaneously. There are no clear-cut villains or heroes in this play. The star of the piece is undoubtedly Shauna Black, whose heart wrenching portrayal of Elaine bursts with vivacity and stubborn fortitude to forge a path for herself, when she is so obviously stuck in the mud. Black has captured Elaine’s naïve heart and inhabits every contradiction and ambiguity that the playwright has thrown at her, with pure, unique earnestness, so Elaine never feels didactic or weighed down by that which her character might “represent” or “symbolize.”
There are also some great directorial moments by David Ferry. Some of the chorus scenes are gripping, and some of the lighting choices are very powerful. I haven’t seen mimed food and drink in a professional, realist play for a very long time, and while I found it slightly off-putting, I can’t decide if it detracted from my experience or not.
At the end of the play I overheard Florence Gibson speaking to another playwright/performer who I adore, and they were discussing the choices that she and Ferry had made, which ones worked, and those that are still in development. That’s what I love about Factory Theatre, the works there are always in development. That means that they are somewhat less polished than the shows of other theatres, but we are so fortunate to have a professional theatre company so dedicated to providing opportunities for Canadian playwrights to write. Factory respects the artists’ process, and doesn’t force it. Factory Theatre tends to say yes in an industry that so often says no. I hold that in high esteem. In all, there is lots of great theatre in Missing, and although parts of it may still be raw, at its core, that proverbial slammed door still reverberates.
Missing plays at Factory Theatre until April 5, 2009. 125 Bathurst Street (at Adelaide). For tickets call 416 504-8871 or visit their website.
Posted in alan van sprang, andrew gillies, david ferry, factory theatre, fiona highet, florence gibson, shauna black | Leave a comment
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