The Opera Queen

L’Chaim

By

On March 22, 2010

In movies

Films for the 18th annual Toronto Jewish Film Festival were announced today -and what a great selection of choices! Funny, sad, historic, romantic, enraging, inspiring -the festival really runs the gamut of human experience, all while keeping intact its sense of exploration and openness. Running April 17th to 25th, the fest will be showcasing 93 films from 18 different countries; seven of the films are making their North American premieres.

Last year I had the opportunity of interviewing the festival’s leaders, including Executive Director Helen Zukerman, who explained to me that the point of the festival isn’t to engage in political debates but to facilitate dialogue and understanding, all while celebrating the past, present, and future of Jewish culture. A big part of that culture is comic -as in funny, sure (works of the Marx Brothers were featured in years past) -but also in an artistic, literal sense. People of the Comic Book: The Creators Of Superheroes, Graphic Novels & Toons is a series running as part of TJFF that explores the connection between the best-known superheroes (Superman, Batman, Spider-Man), and their Jewish creators. Animators, authors, and filmmakers will be attending to mark the occasion, among them writer Harvey Pekar (American Splendor), and award-winning graphic novelist Ben Katchor. The series will also include a film about animation legend Al Hirschfeld, a screening of Ron Mann‘s Comic Book Confidential, as well as a midnight screening of Ralph Bakshi‘s hilariously ribald Fritz The Cat.

Within the Festival programming, there’s also (much to my delight) a nice focus on the experiences of Jewish women. Among the huge number of selections is Ahead Of Time, the story of the truly incredible Ruth Gruber, a photographer, journalist, foreign correspondent and humanitarian. After World War Two, Gruber campaigned to allow Holocaust refugees from Europe into the United States; she also covered the Nuremberg trials, which are covered extensively in another work at the festival, Nuremberg: Its Lesson For Today (details below) Gruber was witness to the Exodus 1947 ship enter Haifa Harbour following its being attacked by by the Royal Navy. She subsequently flew to Cyprus to meet and interview the refugees, and later, was the only journalist allowed by the British to accompany the refugees on their tragic return trip to Germany. Gruber was honoured in 2008 by the National Coalition Against Censorship. And that’s just part of her life.

Ahead Of Time is paired with The Irene Hilda Story (L’Histoire D’Irene), detailing the history of Irene Hilda herself, a cabaret singer who was forced to flee Paris. Still in the music vein is The Jazz Baroness, which traces the relationship between Pannonica (“Nica”) Rothschild and jazz legend Thelonius Monk. Rothschild left her wealthy background, her husband, even her children, to follow the married Monk and his magical sound. Even when her family cut her off financially, she still helped out her jazz musician friends as best she could, giving them what money she had for rent, food, and instruments. Monk took her deep into the bebop world of the day -so deep in fact, that she was exposed to the ugly, unpoetic side of the scene; like a sad badge of cred, Charlie Parker wound up dying in Nica’s suite at the Stanhope Hotel. The film, made by Rothschild’s great-niece, includes readings of the Baroness’ letters (by Helen Mirren) as well as music Monk wrote specifically for Rothschild. Dreamy.

Returning to the hard edges of history, however, and that dreaminess is soon vanished. Berlin ’36 portrays the Nazis’ recruitment of Gretel Bergmann, a world-class Jewish high jumper. The Nazis were so stunned by her mastery, and so worried about that mastery discrediting their racial theories, they took a rather drastic step to ensure her failure at the Olympics: they hired a man in drag to take her place. Berlin ’36 is complemented by What If? The Helene Mayer Story, which tells the story of fencer Helene Mayer who won a gold medal for Germany in 1928. She moved to the U.S. in the 1930s after being kicked out of her German fencing club for being half-Jewish. Her return to Germany however, after IOC pressure on the country, may have helped to whitewash Nazi racial policies internationally.

Those policies are explored in detail with Nuremberg: Its Lesson For Today. Completed in 1948, the film was widely shown in Germany in ’48-49, though its release in the U.S. was withheld, in part because of the graphic, upsetting nature of its content. Original footage was painstakingly restored by filmmakers Sandra Schulberg and Josh Waletzky. The film documents how Allied prosecution teams built their case against Nazi War criminals; courtroom sequences are edited together with the Nazis’ own documents and films, one of which depicts the concentration camps that so shocked the military tribunal. Even nearly 70 years later, those images are still totally gut-wrenching and horrific. I want to see Nuremberg but I’m not sure I’ll be able to.

Then again, those symbols of hate aren’t so far from current reality. Hearing about the awful racial slurs that were hurled today at black politicians today in the United States over recent health care reforms, I can’t help but feel that a film like Nuremberg: Its Lesson For Today is, in fact, just that. It’s more relevant and timely than ever; hatred still exists, however gussied-up and hidden (or not) it might be. All it takes is a mob fueled by ignorance and fear to spread hatred like a cancer through society. Showing Nuremberg: Its Lesson For Today is a vital reminder for us -all of us -that hatred is never a wide road leading to greener pastures, but rather, a cracked narrow path of stones leading to a crushing dead end. The Toronto Jewish Film Festival remains as relevant, fresh, and important as ever.

For full information on the Festival, including schedule and ticketing, go to www.tjff.com.

Linkalicious

By

On March 21, 2010

In opera

Fearless: Legendary photojournalist and cameraperson Margaret Moth has passed away at the age of 59. Moth was known for being gutsy and for leading her fellow crew into places other journalists feared to tread. As she explains in the video on the link page, she didn’t have a death wish, but rather, fiercely loved her life and her chosen profession. No kidding. Her jaw got blown off when she was covering the Bosnian War in 1992 and she had to have extensive facial and oral reconstruction. But off she went, back to work -work that took her to the West Bank, and into more dangerous situations. Moth’s dedication and passion are truly inspirational to me, and I’d imagine, to many others.

Paint It Orange: Artists in Detroit are painting derelict houses. Why? Well… why not? As well as bringing attention to the jaw-dropping economic disparity in Detroit, the work brings a kind of joie de vivre and creative, improvisatory to areas that badly need that kind of play. The spirit of openness is infectious too; as the artists explain, the projects lead to opportunities and area regrowth. Yes, artists can make a difference. Thanks to Good Magazine and Halogen TV for a truly good story.

Speaking of which: Bono attended the Pan African Media Conference last week in Nairobi. Yes, I know there’s a lot of strong opinions out there about his involvement in world issues and his passionate activism, but as a user named ewangu commented on this (Kenyan) post, “At least he is trying, he has the influence and resources…. someone has to!!!” I’ve always seen his efforts less as patronizing and meddling, and more humanistic and matched to the old white-flag-waver of yore (minus the mullet). Would North Americans (much less CNN) have paid attention to the Pan African Media Conference without his presence? Debate amongst yourselves.

Ring Ring: Teddy Ruge of Project Diaspora was in Austin, Texas last week, taking part in the Africa 3.0 conference at South by Southwest. In the video clip below, he says that “aid agencies do great job perpetuating the model of ‘Africa needs aid'”, echoing an argument made last year by Dambisa Moyo.

Ruge, who is critical of the One Laptop Per Child program, notes that “those of us in Diaspora are starting to wake up to the fact that we have the power to make a difference in Africa -by starting social entrepreneurship programs. Hopefully we can create a wave of change that can have Africans taking responsibility for Africa as opposed to looking to the West constantly for assistance. It’s time we started providing solutions for ourselves.” One of those solutions is via mobile technology, something software developer (and Appfrica CEO) Jonathan Gosier compellingly explores. As he writes, “Africa doesn’t default to the mobile device because they want to, they do it because it’s useful for them.”

Mali Cool: A exhibit by Malian photographer Malick Sidibe is on now through March 26th at the Bekris Gallery in San Francisco. Titled “Other Africa”, Sidibe’s shots capture a time in 1960s/70s Western Africa that, frankly, is dead cool-looking -full of gorgeous people dancing and having fun. It’s so far from the stereotypical image of Africa that North Americans are fed -which is important -but his work also shows an incredible eye for shape, form and detail. You can tell why his studio became a popular hangout for the beautiful people in the 70s too. I hope this show tours. I want to see these prints in-person.

Not useful but fun: Here’s an entertaining list of ten inspiring mash-ups/remixes/ re-envisionings compiled in the New York Times’ Arts Beat blog. I was particularly moved by the 3D version of Guernica set to the music of Manuel de Falla by artist Lena Gieseke; going behind, through, an around Picasso‘s figures is a surreal, if very immediate way to experience his work in a brave new way. I love the Obama/McCain Dance Off too (I wonder if the Health Care Vote hostilities could be resolved this way…). The Sinatra/B.I.G. mash-up beat-filled ode to New York is also affecting, not just for its balls-out bravado and macho swagger, but for the sad reminder that both its artists -so symbolic of the Big Apple in their own times -aren’t with us anymore.

Art+Trash Squared: Artist Justin Gignac takes on New York City in a whole different way. He takes inspiration from trash -literally. The enterprising artist sticks city garbage in a sealed plastic cube and then sells it (for $50 each, in case you want one). Recycling? Smarmy post-pop culture commentary? Opportunism? All of the above? As Web Urbanist notes, “It’s a little bit Andy Warhol, a little bit street-corner-junk-hawker and a whole lot of kitsch, but it’s clearly a hit – over 1,200 NYC Garbage cubes have been sold to buyers in 25 countries.” Everyone wants a bite of the Big Apple -no matter how much it might hurt the teeth.

My Anansi moment: I’m one of the many people part of the current round of the Review Crew, the online review site for publishing powerhouse House of Anansi. Yay! The chosen book is award-winning author Pascale Quiviger‘s hauntingly gorgeous The Breakwater House; it’s been months since I finished reading this slim book, and I’m still thinking about it. You know it’s good when…

Coming up this week: pieces on the Toronto Jewish Film Festival, Hot Docs, and current theatre in Toronto, including Art, Oh What A Lovely War, and who knew grannie: a dub aria. I’ll also be posting about the delicious, inspiring links between Stratford, Ontario and the recent (and inspiring) food event, Terroir 4, that happened earlier this month. Oh, and tomorrow is World Water Day; to mark the occasion, I’m hoping to speak with Maude Barlow about a documentary she’s part of that airs this week on TVO. Whew! Hang loose, stay tuned, hang on, stay strong.

Sex, Death, Tolstoy

By

On March 19, 2010

In opera

Poor Sandra Bullock. Poor Kate Winslet. Famous, adored, lauded, beautiful. Divorcing. Lord only knows what the machinations are within any relationship to make it go kaput, but among the many assumptions being made, I think the only one worth betting on is the tough road both the respective parties have traveled. Bullock canceled an appearance in London out of “unforeseen personal circumstances” –which to me, means, ‘I don’t want to see anyone right now.” Fair enough.

But what happens when love gone wrong goes public? Celebrated Russian writer Leo Tolstoy imagined such an ugly scenario when he sat down to write The Kreutzer Sonata, based on Beethoven’s fiery music. The story revolves around a man sharing his tale of love, jealousy, suspected infidelity, and finally murder. Upon its publication in 1889 it was perceived as perverted, disgusting and scandalous; authorities promptly banned it. A year later, Tolstoy wrote a kind of apology for it, though it did nothing to dim the bright salacious bulb of the original, its glaring light shining capturing the money-spot of sexy pain and orgasmic violence.

Toronto’s Art of Time Ensemble decided to stage Tolstoy’s work, adding, as befits their collectively experimental soul, elements of dance, theatre, and of course, music to the works. The Kreutzer Sonata was performed last year in Toronto to great acclaim, and is currently receiving a revivial, on now through March 21st (Sunday) at the Enwave Theatre at Harbourfront Centre. I had the chance to chat with one of its performers, actor/director Ted Dykstra, who had so impressed (and scared) me doing a brilliant rendition of Allan Ginsberg’s Howl at a previous Art of Time Ensemble event. Dykstra, ever the insinghtful artist, had some fascinating things to say about Tolstoy, marital jealousy, and the idea of a “world-class” city.

What’s different about this year’s performance?

Last year I read my own adaptation, but this year I’m stupid enough to try to do it without reading it.

Why memorize it?

You can’t do it complete justice just reading it –you have to live it. In order to live it, you have to memorize it. I memorized the whole thing –well, I adapted the novella and memorized the adaptation –so it’s about fifteen minutes long. I think (Tolstoy)’s crazy (laughs)… in a genius way! Geniuses are allowed to be crazy! It’s very dark humour.

How much humour comes through?

It comes the day I’m doing it –and it can go a lot of different ways. I like to let it do me rather than me do it. What’s great is that, first of all, live music. Andrew (Burashko, AOT’s Artistic Director) is actually playing, underscoring bit of narration. I have the advantage of these live people underscoring (what I’m doing). In the second half of it, the same music is used to celebrate nothing but beauty. It’s a celebratory thing about love.

How timeless/timely is The Kreutzer Sonata?

Anyone who’s ever experienced marital breakup or jealousy in any form will see themselves in it, either as the aggressor or the victim, and that’s a pretty large section of the human population. Also, we really think so little of what’s behind a crime, and this lets you into the mind of a person so you can understand his madness. I have to be sympathetic to the character I’m playing; this is a guy who murdered his wife, and that’s an interesting thing to watch. As far as timely goes, it’s not anymore or any less timely, it’s just universal.

Talk about the synergy between disciplines in the Art of Time: music, theatre, dance.

It’s there between Andrew and I for sure. Neither of us is content to just be one thing. We both like to cross boundaries and disciplines. I’d like to do it even more and so would he. I think the city is starting to be ready for it. I do get frustrated with Toronto sometimes. The very fact one has to say “world-class” is embarrassing! Nobody in any great city, ever, has to say they are “world-class” –and that’s what makes it world-class. Andrew would be a celebrity in Manhattan. He’d be at BAM, doing the cool stuff. He’d be sold out, sought after, written about. He’s one of those artists. Here, except for a small group of our population, he’s literally unknown. I’m tired of telling my friends in theatre who he is –I mean, I’m happy to do it really, but it is frustrating to have such great work going on so below the radar. There is a slow sea change, though, so it’s exciting.

The Kreutzer Sonata runs at the Enwave Centre at Harbourfront Centre March 18th through 21st.

Ready Freddie

By

On March 18, 2010

In music, opera

Yesterday’s memory-post was related to place; today’s concerns music.

As a child, I was exposed to a number of different sounds: opera, classic country, disco, pop-rock, jazz. And then there was Queen. I’ve often said their crazily loud soundtrack to Flash Gordon was my entrance into heavier sounds, and I don’t think it’s gauche to admit it. If it wasn’t for the “FLASH! AH-AHHHH!” I might not have ever gone on to the snarling sounds of punk or the clanging cacophony of metal. Hell, I may not have even enjoyed ballsy, loud blues. I don’t know how many times I made my mother sit through Flash Gordon, but … it was a lot. My friends and I used to literally dance in our seats to the music. Poor mum eventually relented and bought me the soundtrack to the movie, and from there I explored the Queen catalogue backwards and forwards.

Much-loved albums included A Night At the Opera and A Day At The Races (yes, I was a Marx brothers fan too, and immediately caught the vaudeville refence) and I remember borrowing a friend’s (vinyl) copy of News Of The World and listening to it ad nauseum. The cacophony from my bedroom provided good competition to the opera that blasted from the living room -especially on a Saturday afternoon.

Having been exposed to opera at an early age, I was particularly enchanted with Freddie Mercury‘s wide range and spine-tingling tone. He could move from soft and tender to aggressively sinister in a heartbeat. I loved that he did a duet with Monserrat Caballet; it only increased his cool-factor for me. What other rock figure would dare it? Opera was resoundingly uncool at the time, and yet Freddie openly embraced it. Even my mother became a Freddie fan.

I remember seeing clips of Queen live on television –all those hands clapping in unison! -and thinking, “He has something magical.” Freddie was unapologetically operatic in his approach and bearing; walking slowly across the stage at the end of Queen shows to the metal-ized stylings of God Save The Queen draped in velvet cape and crown was certainly among the campiest moments in rock, but it was also brilliant spectacle. In many ways now, looking back, Freddie revolutionized onstage rock presence. Standing and playing your instruments, shaking your hair, and looking only at your bandmates wasn’t enough to him; connecting with your audience and breaking down barriers of acceptability (especially in terms of gender and aesthetic expectations) came to matter deeply, and it shows, even now. Watching him on the telly or the computer monitor, it’s a presence you can feel.

Now, adoring a variety of genres and sounds, I still have to absolutely credit Queen and its magnetic, theatrical frontman for introducing me to the wonders of guitar rock as a child. Craig Pesco understands the magical presence of Freddie Mercury, too. The Australian-born performer is renowned worldwide for his onstage tribute to Freddie Mercury. Pesco seems to possess his own incredible sense of stage presence along with strong pipes to match. Currently on tour with It’s A Kinda Magic, and set to hit Toronto’s Massey Hall tomorrow night (March 19th), the performer knows he has big shoes to fill every time he steps onto the stage. “It’s on my shoulders to fulfill what they expect from Freddie,” he says. Scary? Yes. Thrilling? Probably.

I had the opportunity to ask Pesco about inspiration, singing, and the spooky kind of channeling that goes on with playing the enigmatic, operatic frontman born Farrokh Bulsara live, in front of cheering Queen fans.

How old were you when you first heard Queen? Do you remember the song and your reactions?

The “Bohemian Rhapsody” video I was maybe 6 or 8. I thought Freddie was an exotic Asian woman.

How much of your own music and personality are you able to bring to It’s A Kinda Magic?

I have been a performer for many years prior to this role. My old friends say they don’t see Freddie onstage; they see me. In their eyes I have always been that type of performer, so I guess I’m in there somewhere, though I try to stay true to Freddie.

How much of performing as Freddie is theatre? Do you sometimes feel like you’re ‘channeling’ him, or is it a mask you put away at the end of the day?

I think it’s a little of both, it certainly has a spiritual aspect to it and I forget who I am most of the time. For good or bad, I enjoy being in a dream like state up there. It’s like I’m watching a video of Freddie somewhere in my head, maybe like an out-of-body experience, I guess.

What do you think accounts for Queen’s enduring popularity?

Great songs and production! Also, a revolutionary concert production and a genius frontman who was not afraid to express himself however he felt.

What is your favourite Queen song to perform? Which Queen song have you not performed but you’d like to do?

I enjoy the heavier material. I would love to do “It’s Late” or “Millionaire Waltz”. I love the album tracks much more than the hits.

It’s A Kinda Magic plays Toronto’s Massey Hall on March 19th. The Canadian tour continues through March 29th, before stops in Hong Kong and South Africa this spring and summer. Check the show website for full information.

Who’s That Girl?

By

On March 17, 2010

In music

Behold, a very young Lady Gaga pounding out her life’s passion in New York City back in January 2006. I love this video. It shows Ms. Germanotta’s incredible musicianship, strong vocals, and most of all, her absolute dedication to her craft. She’s clearly enjoying the relationships she shares with her bandmates, instrument, and audience. She might seem to be an entirely different beast now, with choreographed dance numbers, flaming bras, big wigs and crazily inspired outfits, but I’d like to believe a true artist’s heart still beats within her Armani-clad chest.

Also: this is one damn catchy tune.

“Look at me now, dahlings!”

A Dublin Tale

By

On March 17, 2010

In opera

There are many memories around St. Patrick’s Day for me.

I recall parties thrown by Irish friends, where the adults drank whiskey and us kids got milk with mint syrup. I remember more debauched celebrations in university that involved continual tar-and-malt-coloured libations through the day (and into night). In 2003, I met my mother at an Irish pub. She made the black remark that, “we’d better get good and drunk; there’s going to be a pile of dead people tomorrow.” The second Iraq war was on the cusp of starting; that sore festering pimple left the pallor of St. Pat’s particularly scarred, especially since pub patrons were taking sips between quick, nervous glances at the telly, as if CNN was the band-aid one could put on the bruised complexion of the world. Of course, my mother was right: three days later, we awakened to news of bombs, rockets, blood and screaming. And plenty of speeches and chest-thumping. Drinking didn’t make it that much better but the communal experience of being in a pub helped immeasurably.

St. Pat’s also has a personal dimension for me: today marks the day that, in 2007, I moved from a bittersweet, happy/sad life in Stratford, Ontario. I toasted my new circumstances that night, with dirty hands and sore arms, in a newly-painted room with a gleaming hardwood floor. The future was a huge question mark yawning forth with fangs and tongue flicking. Everything was new and old at the same time. “Woe to me,” I thought between bouts of self-pity, “if I wound up nothing but the undigested afterthought of a Beelzebub offering sin and redemption one foul swoop.” I still can’t figure out if I’m cud or steak, but one thing’s clear: that painful St. Pat’s made me stronger.

Before the fortifying challenges of adulthood however, I remember another St. Patrick’s Day. I was living in Dublin (yes, Ireland). I was in my early twenties, and my definitions of love, worth, security, friendship, play -hell, even art -had been turned upside down in the six months I’d been there. After weeks of gloom and wet, the dampness so keen it stained the walls of our ancient flat and made wearing three layers de rigeur, St. Pat’s was bright, sunny, and mild. Joyful crowds lined O’Connell Street: apple-cheeked grannies, sozzled students, North African immigrants, people from the numerous outlying suburbs, all enjoying a day off. Everyone was smiling, even the Gardai, in their uniforms, with buttons eye-searingly shiny casting rings of light along the cracked cement.

I’d stood on the thick concrete rail of the O’Connell Street Bridge weeks before, a friend holding a leg each, imploring me to “hurry up!” as I happily, manically snapped pictures of the buildings and houses cupping the Liffey like a cooing grey dove. Cold winds had whipped me to and fro, as hands gripped my ankles, then pant legs, and then the inevitable comment of “you’re insaaane!” floated through the rain-soaked air, chiming in harmony with the metallic ca-chunks of the camera lens. I’d gone to Dublin because, as a first-time move-out, I thought it would be easier to negotiate than the busy, buzzy shock of Gotham-like London; I was also in love with words, and had been intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually sustained by the likes of Yeats, Heaney, Joyce, Beckett, Behan and O’Casey for years. It’s no accident I wound up living mere blocks from the Dublin Writers Museum, the Gate Theatre -and the GPO.

As I stood that day in Dublin slowly inhaling the joy, the sunshine, and riotous celebration, there flashed a pang of sadness in my chest -that familiar, oh-so-Irish sense of doom, drama, and joy, melded together. I was already making plans to move to London. I didn’t know what the future held. I wasn’t even sure why I was leaving. And then I saw it: a float, featuring players from the popular television series Father Ted. I’d come to adore the show before I’d moved, thanks to PBS airings, and living in Dublin cemented my adoration. It was a ringing success in Ireland for simple reasons: the gentle mocking of the Church, the ironic winks to tradition, the celebration of community and friendship. Pauline McLynn, who played Mrs. Doyle, and Ardal O’Hanlon, who played Father Dougal, were on the float, and were greeted with manic waves and cheers. But their appearance was tinged with sadness: their co-star Dermot Morgan (who played the title role) had died very suddenly the previous year.

I came out of a darkened pub to blinding sunshine later that day, feeling overwhelmingly sad yet happily content, all at once.

“Moving?!” an Irish co-worker and friend had exclaimed, “you’re moving? Why??”

Bittersweet. Good and bad. Yin and yang. Stout and whiskey. That’s Ireland. That was my life there. And Dublin gave me the greatest St. Patrick’s day ever.

Father Ted – Lingerie

Boldly Going…

By

On March 16, 2010

In opera

The Canadian Stage Company announced its 2010-2011 season this morning. Its Artistic and General Director, Matthew Jocelyn, is embracing a new approach for the company, one he hopes will help to re-define the company and its mandate over the 21t century; one might even suppose Jocelyn, Canadian-born but mainly French-employed, is trying to re-define the Canadian theatrical landscape with his bold, unique choices. In looking over the release , there’s something undeniably refreshing about this kind of vision: worldly, unapologetic, broad and arty. It remains to be seen whether Toronto audiences will embrace this vision, but it’s nonetheless heartening to see this kind of chutzpah within the cliquey world of Toronto theatre.

Jocelyn aims to “redefine Canadian Stage as a home not only for great Canadian and international plays, but also for trans-disciplinary theatre that pushes the boundaries of convention and reflects a resolutely 21st century aesthetic.” That aesthetic includes featuring the work of Quebec native -and theatre visionary – Robert LePage in the 2010-2011 season. LePage’s The Andersen Project will be making its Toronto debut in October; according to the release, it’s “a modern-day multimedia fairytale” that is based on the work of Hans Christian Andersen. LePage? Andersen? Sounds like all kinds of mad, manic magic. I was bowled over by the artistry LePage brought to The Nightingale at the Canadian Opera Company last October, and though The Andersen Project isn’t new (it was commissioned by Denmark in 2005 to mark the 200th anniversary of the famous writer’s birth), there’s always something so inspiring and fresh about seeing LePage’s work in Toronto. It feels as if he’s bringing a European sensibility that Toronto, for all its talk of being a “world-class city”, is still deathly afraid of truly embracing.

Come November is the multimedia production Studies in Motion: The Hauntings of Eadweard Muybridge by the Electric Company Theatre, featuring the poetic choreography of accomplished Canadian dancer Crystal Pite. Quebecois dancer Edouard Locke will also be part of the Canadian Stage season with his grond-breaking La La La Human Steps company in as-yet-untitled work set to premiere in May 2011. (You might recall La La La worked with David Bowie in the 1980s.) I love the fearless combination of dance and drama here; again, it’s a European approach to theatre (and its integration of other artforms) that is indicative of the kind of worldly thinking Jocelyn’s experience (mainly with Atelier du Rhin) entails.

That experience also lends itself to reaching out to Canada’s national arts organization. Thus, the National Arts Centre‘s English Theatre head honcho Peter Hinton arrives in 2011 to direct Saint Carmen of the Main by Michel Tremblay; the work is a co-production with the NAC and runs February 7th to March 5th. Canadian dynamo Jennifer Tarver will also be directing for Canadian Stage. She might be best-known outside of Canadian theatre circles for her celebrated production of Beckett’s craggily moving work Krapp’s Last Tape featuring Brian Dennehy that ran in Stratford and then Chicago. Come April 2011, she’ll be helming the Canadian premiere of The cosmonaut’s last message to the woman he once loved in the former Soviet Union, by David Greig. The work was first produced at the Edinburgh Festival in 1999 and went on to run at the La Jolla Playhouse in San Diego and the Donmar Warehouse in London. Now there’s a play with passport cred to burn.

Along with smaller productions at the Berkeley Street Theatre (the smaller stage used by the Canadian Stage Company) involving local companies like Nightwood and Studio 180, the Berkeley will also host a Spotlight On Italy series March 15th through 26th, 2011. Programming is totally intriguing, and includes many works that won’t be familiar to Canadian theatre audiences. Nunzio and La Festa, two award-winning plays from Sicily’s Compagnia Scimone Sframeli will see productions, along with the dance theatre of la natura delle cose by Florence’s Compagnia Virgilio Sieni, whose Artistic Director, Virgilio Sieni, has twice received the UBU prize, Italy’s top theatre award.

“The Spotlight Festival,” notes Jocelyn, “demonstrates (the Canadian Stage Company’s) commitment to showcasing some of the most extraordinary international companies that challenge the classical notions of theatre.” I can hear some Canadian arts types moaning that we already have companies that do that -but how much more can they -and we -learn by including the works of others within our own diaspora? Culturally, they inform our “Canadian-ness” every bit as much as works by Michel Tremblay, David French, Judith Thompson, Florence Gibson, George F. Walker, and the myriad of other playwrights who are studied and produced across this country. If the 1960s and 70s were all about establishing a distinctly Canadian voice, the 21st century is about seeing how much that voice can sing with other voices -in harmony, or not. Will audiences go for it? That remains to be seen. But it’s surely good to see Jocelyn’s vision of the Canadian Stage Company going above and beyond the predictable, the safe, and the well-worn. It’s time for something new. Welcome to the world, Toronto. I think you’re going to like it.

Damn Good Dinner

By

On March 15, 2010

In food

Few things inspire me like a person new to the culinary world; it implies both a healthy curiosity and a concern for healthy eating. Anything homemade is always going to beat microwaved Frankenfood. So a recent note from a fellow Twitterati/ journalist felt like a call to inspiration, the way I painter is drawn to canvas or a musician to their instrument. Sharing food ideas and any help is my passion, because I love to cook.

I sent this fellow journalist a response, included a link to my last recipe posted (a hit with busy moms), as well as helpful book suggestions (listed below). I also promised myself I would starting posting recipes more often.

As it happens, I had a very hectic day: two blog posts, several phone calls, emails, a doctor’s appointment, and some running around. I wanted something fairly easy and effort-free, if also homey, flavoursome, and healthy. Ergo, meet my Oven-Roasted Herb-Garlic Chicken Breasts.

Prep time: 10 minutes
Cooking time: 30-40 minutes

You will need:

4 chicken breasts, skin and bone on
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp olive oil
2-3 garlic cloves
1 sprig rosemary
1-2 tsps dried oregano
1/2 lemon
1 tsp sea salt

Pre-heat oven to 425F (use the convection setting if you have it, otherwise set at 450F).

Pour 1 tbsp of the olive oil into a large broad oven dish; you can use a large glass one or a nice square roaster, but keep it shallow, and make sure the breasts fit snugly together.

With clean hands, anoint the fresh chicken breasts with the butter; Nigella Lawson has a wonderful expression (from her basic roast chicken recipe) of spreading the butter around “like a very expensive handcream” -which is apt. Make sure every little bit of the chicken breasts are lubricated. Place in the oven dish, making sure pieces are snug but not busting.

Wash and dry your hands, and then carefully pick the needles from the rosemary sprig. Discard the stalk. Using a very sharp knife, finely chop the needles, and sprinkle them evenly on the tops of the breasts.

Follow this with the oregano (again, use your fingers to sprinkle -much nicer distribution that way). Pour the other tbsp (or so) of olive oil on top.

Take your garlic cloves and peel, then half them. Place the flat part of your knife on top of them, and give a few good pounds, so you’re crushing the cut cloves (you may need to do this in stages, doing a few garlic pieces at a time -which is perfectly fine). You’ll find nice flat pieces of fragrant crushed garlic to scatter on top of the chicken breasts.

Take the half a lemon, cut it again in half, and slice into very thin pieces; scatter on top of the breasts. Sprinkle the sea salt on top (again, use your fingers) and drape a piece of tin foil on top, then pop the dish into your hot oven.

(You can use this time to throw a salad together, if you wish; a basic cucumber/tomato/mixed greens is good with a light dressing. I also happened to have some roasted potatoes already made, so I popped those into an earthenware dish, gave a glug of oil, a grind of pepper, and threw into the same oven for the chicken’s last 10 minutes.)

After 15 minutes, remove the chicken, and take off the foil. Things will be sizzling and fizzling, so mind you don’t stand too close or poke your nose in to inhale the fragrant, herb-garlic aroma.

Using a baster or a spoon, spread all those lovely chickeny/buttery/olive oily juices over the breasts a few times, then whack back in the oven for another 10 minutes or so with the foil off.

Poke a breast (pun unintentional) with a sharp knife after the ten minutes is up; the meat should feel solid, and the juices run clear. Take the chicken out (again, mind the sizzle), baste one more time, and whack back in for 5 to 7 minutes.

For a nice burnished top, turn the broiler on medium-high heat and leave the chicken breasts in (without moving the oven rack) for about 3 or 4 minutes after this (keep watch). The lemon slices and crushed garlic might be singed and blackened at their edges; this is perfectly fine.

Remove and… voila. Enjoy. Serve with salad and, if you like, starch of your choice.

Oh, and those book suggestions: I recommend these for both newcomers and seasoned home cooks, for the breadth of their ideas, accomplishment of their respective authors, and overall ease. They are:

To this I would only add one other book: How To Eat, (Random House, 1998) by Nigella Lawson, which provided inspiration for this recipe in the first place.

All of these titles are perffect for the cook who’s harried, hurried, and not entirely familiar with the culinary arts. Bon appetit!

Eternal Factory

By

On March 15, 2010

In video

Toronto’s Factory Theatre announced their 41st season today, with works by puppeteer Ronnie Burkett, playwrights Anusree Roy and Adam Pettle, and the Factory’s Ken Gass featured as part of the program.

Also included is the incredible Eternal Hydra by Anton Piatigorsky. I loved this Crow’s Theatre piece when it premiered in Toronto last spring. As the video piece I hosted and co-produced (for Lucid Media) demonstrates, Piatigorsky’s play is challenging, but it doesn’t abandon emotional interaction entirely, either. Rather, it nicely balances the head and the heart within a fascinating, Borges-esque piece of existential drama that touches on questions of creativity, authenticity, and identity. Eternal Hydra won a bevy of Dora Awards (Toronto’s equivalent to the Tonys) back in June, and for those who didn’t get the chance to see it at Buddies In Bad Times Theatre last year… well, get thee to Factory. It’s going to be a great season.

Linkalicious

By

On March 15, 2010

In movies

A list of links to inspire:.

Eno Kisses The Future: Producer/musician/all-around genius Brian Eno is the Guest Artistic Director of the 2010 Brighton Festival, running May 1st through 23rd. Discussing the vital role of art in shaping future events, he says “it’s very easy to be pessimistic about the future” but adds that “artists offer new kinds of worlds” from which imagination can rise to offer new, creative solutions to problems like climate change and poverty. The fest will include Eno’s 77 Million Paintings and a sound installation set up throughout the city.

Austen Bites: What do you get when you mix Jane Austen, Lord Byron, and vampires? A whole lot of sales, it seems. Author/teacher Amy Leal takes apart the literary mash-up trend, drawing some hilarious (and valid) lines between the two writing giants, their respective works, and their modern-day neck-chomping counterparts.

King Bites Too: Horror writer Stephen King is releasing a comic book (courtesy of DC Comics) tomorrow. Called American Vampire, it’s about “a Wild West outlaw who’s a sociopath even before he gets vamped.” While the project has echoes of his Dark Tower/Gunslinger series, this is the first time the multi-mondo-selling author has done a comic book formally. Sounds killer.

“Legacy is greater than currency“: Best-selling author and wine guy Gary Vaynerchuk gave this talk at the Web 2.0 Expo in 2008. He talks about “hustling” and the benefits of pursuing what you love, rather than being stuck in a job you hate. I’m still not sure how it relates to the world of journalism, but there’s something heartening about his energy and enthusiasm, and I like his idea of establishing “brand equity in yourself.”

Women Who Go Beyond: This collection of photos is a nice complement to this past weekend’s Women In The World conference. Based on The One Campaign‘s recent trips through Ghana and Sierra Leone, the photos are both beautiful works of art an incredible documents of people making a difference. The stories accompanying them are equally fascinating and inspiring.

Rockin’ Runaways: According to this report, director Floria Sigismondi got the grit just right for her new film, The Runaways, detailing the rise of the late 70s band that featured Cherie Currie and Joan Jett. I was never a huge fan of the band, but I love Sigismondi’s rich visual sense and intuitive feel for atmosphere (look at her video work for Sigur Ros, David Bowie, and The White Stripes, for example). Combining her operatic style with rock and roll seems molto bellissimo.

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