Category Archives: Reviews of the performing arts

Puppet theatre delivers adult message

Ignorance: the evolution of happiness

A play created by the Old Trout Puppet Theatre

Directed by Pete Balkwill, Pityu Kenderes and Judd Palmer

Blue Bridge at the Roxy

 January 7-19

Reviewed by Joy Fisher

Shortly after I took my seat in the third row of the Roxy Theatre, uniformed middle-school students came marching in to fill the rows ahead of me. “Oh-oh,” I thought, “someone didn’t do the homework.”

Sure enough, during the 85 minutes of Ignorance: the evolution of happiness, these children were exposed to explicit sex scenes, death by hanging, murders, and a birth face-on to the audience. Only the fact that the characters were puppets tempered the impact of these scenes. (I surreptitiously tried to scrutinize the students’ faces as they left after the play. They didn’t seem traumatized. I can only surmise they didn’t understand what they were watching.)

Despite the innocent-sounding subtitle, “the evolution of happiness,” Ignorance is a dark tale, filled with the ironic conceit that the harder we pursue happiness, the more miserable we are. Beginning with Adam and Eve in a dark Paleolithic cave, the play moves forward to the modern era where, if anything, the plight of humankind is more wrenching than that of their ancestors.

The narrator, Judd Palmer, tells the audience right up front that the average human being is allotted only about 14 ½ minutes of happiness in his or her entire lifetime, “most of it before the age of 12.”

Eve was the transgressor, of course, but in this play, her fault was to have imagination. Having learned to imagine that the world could be better than it was, she taught humankind dissatisfaction. From then on, no matter how much better our inventive minds made the world, it was never good enough. Over and over again, humans are led astray by yellow happy-face balloons that evade their grasp, get popped, or the cords of which wrap around a pursuer’s throat, strangling him, the agonized spasms of his body quieted only by death.

Nicolas Di Gaetano, Viktor Lukawski and Trevor Leigh, dressed in identical black one-piece tights, each with a hood crowned by a single horn, gave voice (mostly cries of anguish) and movement to the puppets. As is fitting for this existential tale, their own movements were at once graceful and athletic, almost, at times, a ceremonial dance. So adept were they that, although always visible, they sometimes seemed to disappear, transforming the puppets from simple rocks, hanks of hair and arms made of sticks into trembling beings filled with human passion and suffering.

The dramatic effects were enhanced by a somber, almost classical, orchestral score and a rear projector used at times to illuminate a wall of the prehistoric cave, a nod to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave.

The Old Trout Puppet Workshop began in Calgary in 1999. Since then, it’s toured seven productions across Canada, into the United States and as far away as Europe. Ignorance was first developed at a creative residency at the Banff Centre for the Arts in 2011, through a process of “Open Creation,” in which the basic idea of the show was posted on the Internet so that anybody could comment, contribute or criticize.

Ignorance is the first show in the new “Presenter’s Series,” a series of contemporary plays, hosted by Blue Bridge at the Roxy. It’s a powerful and auspicious beginning. If you can get to the Roxy before the play closes on January 19, you’re in for a moving experience.

But leave the kids at home.

Joy Fisher graduated from UVic in 2013 with a BFA in writing. She is a member of the Playwrights Guild of Canada.

 

 

Homelessness: It’s Complicated

Home is a Beautiful Word

A play collected and edited by Joel Bernbaum

Directed by Michael Shamata

The Belfry Theatre, Victoria

January 7-19, 2014

Reviewed by Joy Fisher

The complexity of homelessness in Victoria B.C. shines like a multifaceted gemstone catching the sun one facet at a time in the world premiere production of Home is a Beautiful Word now playing at the Belfry Theatre.

Commissioned and directed by the Belfry’s artistic director, Michael Shamata, the play is the product of two years of hard work, most notably by playwright/journalist Joel Bernbaum, who interviewed more than 500 people from all walks of life and perspectives, including many homeless people, and then edited the resulting 3,000 pages of transcript into a two-act play that holds its own as both a work of art and an exploration of a persistent social problem. 

Five actors, two women and three men, give voice to 58 individuals in this production of “verbatim theatre”—where all the lines are taken exactly from the transcripts of the interviews. The actors leaned heavily on their dramatic skills to distinguish one speaker from another, and this effort was augmented by changes in costume, positioning on stage and the timing of entrances and exits. One particularly effective example of stagecraft was the use of a rotating stage to simulate a car tour of the downtown neighbourhood conducted by one interviewee.

In spite of this careful attention to craft, however, it was sometimes difficult for the audience to keep track of changes in speakers, although some stood out more clearly than others.   

The expressed intention of the play is to allow theatregoers to see homelessness from a “new perspective.”  For this reviewer, that new perspective came from an interviewee whose story emerged gradually as the play progressed. This person had opened a beauty school, but unanticipated incursions of street people into his facility eventually ruined his business and he lost his own home after he defaulted on his business loan. He emerged from this experience with his own perspective changed, considering the possibility of a new career in the helping professions. What set him apart from the homeless, he believed, was that he still had his “pride.”

Other vignettes that stood out included a monologue by the mother of a homeless woman who described the anguish she experienced because of her daughter’s precarious situation and another of a homeless woman who felt shamed in her daughter’s eyes when she didn’t have enough money to pay for her groceries and had to leave them at the counter.

The play provides no easy solutions to homelessness, but it offers an opportunity to encounter the problem in all its complicated thorniness.

The theme of “pride” and “shame” emerged more strongly in the “afterplay” discussion, when two people rose to share their experiences of homelessness. The woman complained that the play didn’t depict the “positive” aspects of homelessness. She had been banned from many hostels because of her outspokenness, she said, but had found acceptance among her homeless compatriots. When she voiced criticism of some in the homeless “industry,” a number of audience members, presumably working in that industry, rose en masse and left.

The man, who said he suffered from a brain injury, spoke at length about his personal travails. In both cases, members of the audience grew restless at what they clearly considered disruptive behavior and eventually drove these speakers from the hall.

In the play program, Michael Shamata compliments Joel Bernbaum for his “humanity and generosity.” He “made it possible for everyone to feel safe enough to share their most intimate stories,” Shamata said. The interactions during the afterplay discussion stood out in sharp contrast.

 Joy Fisher graduated from the University of Victoria in 2013 with a BFA in writing; she is a member of the Playwright’s Guild of Canada.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hearing Voices at The Belfry

By Hanna Leavitt

Earlier this fall, Belfry Theatre patrons may have wondered at the contingent of blind and visually impaired patrons and guide dogs in attendance at a particular performance of Goodnight Desdemona (Good Morning Juliet).   Like the other blind people, I was there to experience the Belfry’s first-ever described theatre-arts event, a service provided by VocalEye Descriptive Arts Society. This Vancouver-based non-profit organization delivers live-audio description services for the blind, the first of its kind in Canada to do so.

I asked my friend Kristi to check out the show with Calvin and me. Calvin’s my guide dog. He’s pretty keen on the theatre, although sometimes he does forget it’s acting. We showed up 45 minutes before the start of the play to register with Larry, the VocalEye representative. We were each issued a single earpiece headphone along with a receiver with its own on/off and volume control. Larry escorted us to our front-row seats where we settled in for the performance.

“Turn on your receiver,” said Kristi, “Someone’s already started describing.” I flipped my receiver on and adjusted the volume. Sure enough, a clear, soft-spoken voice came through my earpiece.

“Good afternoon and welcome to VocalEye’s described performance of Goodnight Desdemona . . . by Ann-Marie MacDonald, directed by Ron Jenkins and produced by the Belfry Theatre. I’m Steph Kirkland, and I’ll be your describer for today. I’m describing from the old follow spot booth behind the balcony, left of centre.”

Kirkland, a 20-year veteran of the Vancouver theatre scene, also reads textbooks for the blind at Vancouver’s Langara College. “When I saw the call for audio theatre describers for blind people, it was a natural fit,” she says.  She has since formed a non-profit society called VocalEye that trains and promotes the services of audio describers to the theatre community. “It’s my goal that this service be sustainable,” says Kirkland. “I would love for it to be available at theatres across Canada.”

Fifteen minutes before curtain, Kirkland provided brief descriptions of the set, characters and costumes via our wireless earphones.

“There are five performers in this production, three women and two men. The main character is Constance Ledbelly, assistant professor at Queen’s University, played by Daniela Vlaskalic. All the other characters are played by the remaining four cast members. The central location is Constance’s office in the basement of Queen’s University. The back wall of her office is completely filled with nine built-in bookcases, each about 3 feet wide and 16 feet tall. The shelves are filled with leather-bound books, their spines embossed with gold and tagged with library labels. Dog-eared sheets of foolscap, a table fan, portable radio, stapler, lamp, clock, mug, and other odds and ends are also crammed in among the books.”

She continued her thorough set description, right down to the blue recycle box alongside Constance’s work space. I now had a picture in my head of the set, the same set that sighted audience members took in with a simple glance.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes when the play starts,” said the voice. The earpiece went silent.

“This should be good,” said Kristi. I agreed. I attend plays from time to time, but it’s frustrating to miss body language and other actions that aren’t always evident from the dialogue alone.

Moments later, the Belfry’s manager took the stage, welcomed everyone and invited us to enjoy the performance.

The voice was back.

“Darkness. Flash of light: Man smothers woman with pillow. Flash of light: Young woman plunges dagger into her belly. Flash of light: Constance Ledbelly in red toque slowly lowers phone receiver to desk – picks up leather manuscript, drops it in recycling bin – plucks white feather from her toque, drops it in.”

Okay, so I knew what the set looked like and what was happening. I wondered about the character of Constance. I didn’t wonder for long though. The voice must have read my mind.

“Constance Ledbelly is in her 30’s, large boned, slim and gangly. Her square face is pale, without makeup, and flanked by two scrawny, brown pigtails. Her large, wire-frame glasses are taped in the middle. She wears a full set of blue-grey long johns under a purple, t-shirt, hand-knit sweater vest, a drab, plaid pleated skirt and knee-high, black rubber gumboots. To top it off, she wears a bright red toque with a big pom-pom on top, a white feather pen tucked in the brim. She writes with this feather pen in green ink.”

Okay, now I had it – the set and the eccentric main character.

All freeze.

“Janitor mops floor, smokes cigarette. One hand on mop. Lets go of mop – the handle stays upright.”

Kristi and I laughed along with the sighted audience members, sharing a comedic moment in real time. What a treat not to have to tap a friend on the shoulder and whisper, “What just happened there? Why is everyone laughing?” I was hooked. The descriptions were concise, informative and blended effortlessly with the action. Kirkland elaborated on the process a theatre describer goes through prior to a performance.

“I typically attain a copy of the script, attend the play at least three times and take notes. Then I spend several hours working on the actual descriptions I’ll use during the play.” Preparing for the play and describing it can take as much as 20 hours per production, according to Kirkland. Her training and skill were evident as she quietly provided just enough detail to inform but not so much that it interrupted the dialogue and action.

VocalEye is committed to offering a comprehensive, theatre-going experience for blind patrons with its three-fold package. Through its Theatre Buddies service, volunteers meet blind patrons at a designated, accessible location. Buddies then guide patrons to the theatre. The audio describer takes over during the performance. But wait, there’s more. After the performance, we were invited to stay for a touch tour.

Kristi, Calvin and I ascended the stairs to the stage along with six other blind patrons. The touch tour was fabulous, adding an entirely new layer of enjoyment to the play. Belfry staff, actors and VocalEye representatives assisted us in our exploration of the set and props. We met the actors. We touched Desdemona’s gown with its elaborately beaded bodice, Romeo’s and Othello’s swords and daggers, the masks worn at the ball and some of the 1,500 hollowed-out books that lined the set’s floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Touching the costumes and props fleshed out the theatre experience for me, the finishing touch to an enjoyable afternoon. The Belfry contracted with VocalEye to describe one matinee performance per run this season. Will Calvin and I be back for another described show? You bet we will.

Hanna Leavitt is in the second year of her MFA in Writing.

 

 

True West a true hit

True West by Sam Shepard

Directed by Britt Small

November 19 – December 1, 2013

The Roxy Theatre

Nadia Grutter

“Did they do a good job of it?” someone asked me after I saw Blue Bridge Theatre’s November 19, 2013 rendition of Sam Shephard’s True West. Absolutely, was my reply. The play was one of the best productions I’ve seen in Victoria. And that is why this is going to be a spoiler review. If it isn’t enough to read that this play is fantastic and buy yourself tickets, read on, but know that I’m revealing some of the juiciest bits.

The play shows estranged brothers and Lee and Austin, who find themselves housesitting their mother’s suburban home…together. Austin is trying to negotiate with a Hollywood producer despite Lees constant interjections and eventual undermining of the project. Directed by Britt Small, this comedy explores the differences and similarities between the two within the tense confines of reconciliation.

The show has incredible attention to detail, from sound and set to costume. The set is a kitsch yellow kitchen, with a fully stocked fridge and pan-stacked cupboards. On the table are dog-eared books beside a functional typewriter (which is later de-ribboned and later still, destroyed with a golf club). In the back corner are potted plants, which are effectively killed as well. In one scene Austin steals a series of toasters, which are plugged into the stage and nearly pop toast into the front row. Lee wears a leopard print belt, Denis’ hair comes loose as he drinks, cricket sounds taunt Lee half into madness and their mother’s bright blue eye shadow makes her character twice as hilarious. To all involved designers: well done.

While the acting was generally impressive, Paul Fauteux’s stage presence was a force to be reckoned with. His portrayal of the bat-out-of-hell Lee took the fiction out of Lee’s character and made me believe in the the wide-stanced, expressive delinquent in front of me. I was nervous that he might jump down and teach me a lesson if I looked at him the wrong way. What made Fauteux’s performance so believable was the humanity with which he played Lee. He understood the character so well that when a chair unexpectedly fell over in the middle of a scene, he kicked it.

Jacob Richmond’s character, Austin, was supposed to be more static, but his comedic timing seemed off—but only when his character was sober. Drunk Austin was hilarious. At one point Fauteux knocks a plate of toast out of his hands. Richmond proceeds to crawl around the stage and earnestly reassemble the tower of toast. His bewilderedness made me also believe that reassembling that stack of toast was of the utmost importance, and I quietly egged him on from the front row. My only complaint was that, despite their tumultuous relationship, the two characters yelled too much. Both actors demonstrated the ability to dynamically handle emotional material, and I would have liked to see them deliver those highly emotional lines with less volume and more feeling.

True West is not to be missed—seriously. Do yourself a favour and visit Blue Bridge at The Roxy for an evening of laughs, tears and toast.

Nadia Grutter is a freelance writer and editor living in Victoria.

Contemporary Shakespeare worth the hiccups

A Tender Thing by Ben Power

Directed by Peter Hinton

November 5- December 8, 2013

The Belfry Theatre

Review by Nadia Grutter

“Give me the light.”

Lights up on Romeo as an aged man. He stands with his hands open by his sides, eyes fixed on his gaunt beloved. Juliet lies in a queen-sized, covers pulled up around her bare shoulders. Her white hair is pushed back from her wizened face. She is dying.

The November 7, 2013 North American premiere of Ben Powers’ A Tender Thing captured the audience…for the most part.  Powers’ contemporary twist on Shakespeare’s tragedy shows Romeo and Juliet as an old couple attempting to save their love against time and illness in classical Shakespearean dialogue. But while the lighting, sound, set and acting impressed individually, the lacklustre couple detracted from the play.

But before I get to that, I’d like to congratulate lighting designer Robert Thomson and sound designer Brooke Maxwell for an unforgettable dream-like ambiance mixed with ethereal and realistic light and sound. The play opened and closed with deep cello instrumentals, which enhanced the inherent darkness in the play.

But in dark there was light: Maxwell incorporated classic love songs, like “I Only Have Eyes For You” by The Flamingos while Thompson illuminated the stage with water-like projections.  I thought the water lighting was particularly effective, as it reflected the fluid, eternal nature of Romeo and Juliet’s love. Most importantly, the lighting/sound indicated changes in time, which fast-forwarded and rewound throughout the play. This is what I took issue with: without the strong lighting and sound, I think the audience may have become confused as to where they were within the story.

The set was impressive as well. The walls of stage left and right were two giant mirrors, expanding the stage into a reflective landscape. Juliet’s bed was portable, and made for some fun moments with Romeo scooting the bed around the stage in an infatuated stupor. Other props included two chairs (which went largely unused and made me question their significance) and a massive wooden door set back in centre stage. The free standing wooden door symbolized death, release, enlightenment or all of the above, and loomed ominously in the background as a latent reminder of the couple’s impending fate.

And Peter Anderson! The actor as Romeo kept the audience laughing, and sometimes crying, with his charisma and earnestness. Claire Coulter was less demanding as Juliet and didn’t project well. She did, however, skillfully alter her voice according to her age. Together the actors didn’t seem to click. Maybe it was nerves; maybe it was an off night. But as two of the most famous lovers in literary history, their display of passion was disappointing.

The end of Powers’ play was both surprising and inevitable, which is a difficult balance to strike. A little shocking, too. I won’t give it away. I’d see the play again, if not just for the ending, to see experience atmosphere heightened with the love I have faith Coulter and Anderson can more strongly portray.

 

 

Play refuses easy solutions

Armstrong’s War

By Colleen Murphy

Directed by Mindy Parfitt

 Revue Stage,  Arts Club Theatre Company, Vancouver

 (World Premiere, Oct. 17 – Nov. 9/13)

Reviewed by Joy Fisher

When 12-year-old Halley Armstrong comes to the hospital room to read to a convalescing Afghanistan veteran, he tries to send her away. But she won’t take no for an answer. Thus begins an unlikely relationship that eventually enables each of them to reveal hidden secrets.

Halley, brilliantly played by 14-year-old Matreya Scarrwener in her theatrical debut, is determined to earn a community service badge as a Pathfinder. She has picked Michael off the “readers wanted” list because they have the same last name. But Michael, played by Mik Byskov, a recent UVic graduate, just wants to be left to his imaginings about his friend Robbie, with whom he shared a traumatizing war experience.

As it turns out, Halley and Michael have much more in common than just their last names. In different ways, the usual routes to conventional lives have been disrupted for each and they have both become “pathfinders” groping toward an ill-defined future. Halley is in a wheelchair and, when the play opens, Michael is under his hospital bed re-living his war trauma. As they read Stephen Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage together, they gradually confront the face-saving narratives they have each invented as a means of survival and admit to each other the truth of what really happened.

Both actors responded to deft direction by Mandy Parfitt, Scarrwener catching perfectly the delicate balance of a 12-year-old between childish fantasy and brave confrontation of real life, and Byskov sending shivers down the spine when he voiced the pleading of a wounded buddy: “Killl meee.”

The play isn’t perfect. Too much time devoted to reading aloud interrupted the dramatic action, and the decision to have Halley read the dialogue of union soldiers with a Southern accent and to depict Michael as a poor reader added to the tedium because the words and meaning were difficult to understand.

The most unsatisfying aspect of this play, however, may be the fault of unrealistic audience expectations. We want transformation, to see the characters rising whole and perfect out of the fires of devastation. But life isn’t like that, and playwright Colleen Murphy won’t let us kid ourselves that it is.

At one point, in a rage, Michael tears a book to pieces. When he gives it back to Halley, it is a patchwork of taped pages. Halley is shocked, but later reports that her teacher has accepted her cover story and assured her that there is a “replacement fund for books,” That may be true for library books, but not for the books of our lives. When our lives are destroyed, Murphy seems to suggest, all we can do is patch them up and move ahead as best we can.

Neither of these characters is transformed; they both cling to whatever they can of the conventional rules of life. By the end of the play, Michael is back in uniform, ready and willing to return to war despite the horrors he has experienced.  Halley is no doubt making plans for acquiring her next community service badge.

“That’s your trouble,” Michael says to Halley toward the end of the play. “You hope too much.” So do we all, and sometimes it leads to disappointment. But Halley has the final rejoinder. She reminds Michael of the family motto she tries to live by: “I remain unvanquished.” May it be so for us all.

Joy Fisher is a Victoria writer.

Cleese kept crowd engaged

By Curran Dobbs

A master of black humour and vocal critic of “mindless good taste,” British actor John Cleese was nonetheless a class act in his one-man show, “Last Time to See Before I Die” at the McPherson Playhouse recently.

The show, while continuously infused with Cleesian wit, wasn’t strictly comedic. Regaling the audience with his life story, starting with how his parents met, walking the audience through his childhood and his pre-Python days, and movie career, Cleese offered bittersweet moments as he remembered with fondness friends and family who had passed on.  When Cleese recalled David Frost,  he started to tear up, infusing the show with some pathos and creating a humanizing element that would have been absent had the show been strictly comedic (or strictly dramatic).

Admittedly, throughout the show, Cleese didn’t seem too energetic, but after all, he is 73. Nevertheless, the time flew by;  when he announced that he had kept us for about an hour and it was time for an intermission, it came as a surprise. Considering my tendency to fidget and check my watch constantly when sitting for long periods of time, I was impressed.

The second half of the show was mainly a discussion of offensive or black humour.  Cleese talked about it being passed down from his mother, and explored reactions from audience members, mainly to Fawlty Towers and A Fish Called Wanda. Cleese reported that during the test screen for A Fish Called Wanda, the three bits the audience identified as the funniest bits were also the  bits that were identified as most offensive.  He also made much more use of video clips in his second act.  Many of the clips were familiar to Cleese fans, from the previously mentioned shows as well as Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Showing the clips took some of the strain and effort out of filling up the second half while entertaining the audience. Again, I sat through the second half without checking my watch.

The show ended with a standing ovation, with members of the audience eventually clapping in rhythm to The Liberty Bell song from Monty Python’s Flying Circus. The man hasn’t lost a thing at 73 – except the usual, youth, original hair colour . . . I would certainly recommend this show for anyone who appreciates dry humour.

 

Curran Dobbs is a local reviewer and comedian.  

A triumph of battlefields and bed sheets

 Falstaff

 At Theatre Inconnu

 Starring Clayton Jevne

 Adapted by Clayton Jevne from Robert Nye’s novel

 Oct. 4 – 19th

 

Reviewed by Leah Callen

 

 Sex!  And now that Falstaff has your attention, let the laughter guide you somewhere unexpectedly divine.  Clayton Jevne is incredibly authentic as he fills the boots of John Fastolf, a lusty English knight who is said to have inspired Shakespeare’s Falstaff.  As he tells us tall tales about his wars and whores in rich detail, this one-man confession had me laughing, blushing, and crying.  With characters such as Pistol and Shallow, you’re bound to crack a smile. 

        

This storytelling is unapologetically profane, but surprisingly sacred and poetic at the same time. As Fastolf relives every sexual exploit of his life from the cradle to old age, we hear episodes that are both pornographic and beautiful – from a young woman’s creamy breasts and cherry nipples, to the butterflies that magically burst out of a bishop’s hand.   Just when one may get too uncomfortable with all the innuendo about his “soldier,” “in a flash of sack” the story takes a soulful turn.  Don’t let the prim music at the start fool you, though.  Hold onto your seats!  I felt my cheeks glowing in the dark.

        

Fastolf shares an intriguing point of view on some of the most famous medieval battles, witnessed from the edges of history. Audience members can get a little lost on this history map if they don’t have a built-in compass for it, but the accounts are so vivid that it doesn’t matter. While he miraculously conquers the French by throwing jewels and herrings at them, philandering Fastolf is conquered by chaste women. The saints slay his heart. Jevne paints a stunning image of Joan of Arc that is beyond human and, to me, the most bewitching part of the narrative. 

        

Jevne’s full costume reminded me of a naughty Puss in Boots.   The character certainly tries to spin his life in magical proportions, moving from the mindless thrusts of youth to the far sight of age.  But Fastolf travels a touching arc from a hyperbolizing hedonist to one humbled.  We see both a public and private persona in this play – a man embellished with bravado and the bare soul hiding inside him.  As he spins these far-out tales, Jevne creates an iconic pose, his lower half leading the way.  It suggests a character led by his worldly appetites.  But he is reduced to his knees before God, turning away from the audience.  The faceless humility of that pose is striking. 

        

Though the protagonist is larger than life, Jevne’s masterful acting never fell into caricature.  There was a natural flow to all his facial expressions and gestures that made the whole show feel genuine.  It was enthralling, watching him light up with lust and melt gently into tears.  Perhaps this play’s final wish is for us to be more promiscuous in our compassion and love for other human beings.  When our lives fade out, which will be the most powerful memories left behind: our selfish joys or our random acts of humanity?

 

Leah Callen is an MFA student at UVic.

 

 

 

Irish comic adapts to local scene

Dylan Moran
Produced by Westbeth Entertainment and Mike Delamont
Farquhar Auditorium, June 30

Reviewed By Curran Dobbs

I was not sure what to expect of Dylan Moran’s show at the Farquhar Auditorium at the University of Victoria. I had never seen Moran outside of Shaun of the Dead and had never seen him do stand-up comedy. I admit I could have researched him more on Youtube but my hypothesis, valid or not, was that going in a little bit blind would help prevent establishing bias.

Moran began his set with the Canada jokes (and a few American jokes because, if you’re going to make jokes about Canada, America will enter it sooner or later). He managed to squeeze a Rob Ford joke in there. It’s a common tactic for touring comics to make with the local humour, and it wasn’t a bad thing here. He would get bigger laughs later on when the audience was warmed up.

The rest of his show was predominantly social commentary with topics ranging from science vs. religion, guns, technology, politics (left and right comparisons), pop culture, age, evolution, and gender. The overarching theme of the evening was escapism. I’m guessing he is probably aware of the irony of discussing escapism at a comedy show.

Throughout the show, Moran read the audience, asking us at one point whether we leaned more towards science or religion, getting the sense that we veered more towards the left politically and adapted his comedy to fit the audience. At one point, he mentioned that his Irish upbringing made Conservatism part of who he was, stating that if he witnessed an Irish Catholic Cardinal in an argument with a scientist, he’d instinctively side with the one not dressed like a wizard. Reading a crowd is a comedian’s job–and he did so brilliantly.

Occasionally, the jokes came too quickly for me: I was  not used to his heavy accent and missed,what he  said. Given the laughs from the rest of the audience,  others did now share my own hearing problem.

The next time Dylan Moran is in your area, I suggest you catch him. Tickets were moderately priced but affordable.

Curran Dobbs is a writer for The Derwin Blanshard Extremely Classy Sunday Evening Programme and a stand up comedian.

Thumbs up for Theatre of Disapproval

Theatre of Disapproval: PGC Conference and AGM
Keynote Speaker: David Henry Hwang (left)
Sponsored by the Playwrights Guild of Canada

Reviewed by Joy Fisher

When Rebecca Burton, Membership and Contracts Coordinator for the Playwrights Guild of Canada, visited my fourth-year playwriting workshop this spring, I signed up for the Guild newsletter and soon learned the theme of the guild’s annual conference, to be held May 31-June 2 in Toronto, would be Theatre of Disapproval. How could I resist?

The conference did not disappoint. Held in Hart House on the University of Toronto campus, the conference showcased the struggles of dissenting and minority playwrights who write on the edge in today’s Canada.

The panel on “Censorship and Self-Censorship” was led by Mark Leiren Young,  also a University of Victoria graduate, who has written extensively about censorship as a playwright, journalist and satirist. Panel members included lawyer-playwright Catherine Frid and Carmen Aguirre. Frid incurred the wrath of, among others, Prime Minister Stephen Harper, who accused her of being “soft on terrorists” because of her play Homegrown, about Shareef Abdelhaleem, one of the “Toronto 18” Muslims accused of terrorism. Aguirre, whose book Something Fierce: Memoirs of a Revolutionary Daughter won the 2012 Canada Reads competition (but not before she was called a “terrorist” by a panel member), has written over 20 stage plays to date. She spoke both of censorship and the impulse toward self-censorship after surviving censorship.

“The Cultural Experience: Mine vs. Ours,” moderated by Ravi Jain, gave voice to Tara Beagan (free as injuns), Anusree Roy (Brothel #9) and Marcus Youssef (The Adventures of Ali & Ali and the aXes of Evil). Drawing on their plays, the panelists considered the challenges inherent in representing one’s own culture for a larger audience.

The final panel, “Exploitation vs. Exploration,” was moderated by Catherine Hernandez. Panelists Lyle Victor Albert, Audrey Dwyer and Spy Denomme-Welch considered when, if at all, it is appropriate to use the story of others whose cultures, abilities or sexualities are not that of the playwright.

This last question could have been addressed—but was not—by keynote speaker David Henry Hwang, author of  the Tony-award winning play M. Butterfly, which was loosely based on the relationship between a French diplomat and a male Chinese opera singer who purportedly convinced the diplomat that he was a woman throughout their 20-year relationship. Instead, Hwang focused on his failures and what he learned from them, an encouraging lesson for any budding playwright.

Student membership in the Playwrights Guild is relatively inexpensive, and, although students don’t have access to all PGC materials, access to the calls for submissions, competitions, awards, jobs and residencies for playwrights is valuable — almost as valuable as the lesson in courage delivered by the playwrights on the front lines. Check out the Playwrights Guild at www.playwrightsguild.ca.

Joy Fisher graduated from UVic in June 2013 with a BFA in Writing.