Tag: Toronto Page 3 of 4

Starry Night

On August 15, 2010

Considering Toronto is cold at least half the year (if not more), anytime there’s an opportunity to get outside, in the nice weather, to … do stuff (read: anything!)… us locals take it. We’ll even sit on a beach that isn’t a real beach.

One of these carpe-diem-esque activities in watching movies out of doors. True, other locations around the city have had this very-same activity -including screenings at the loud and cruelly bright (and equally chaotic and utterly manky) Yonge-Dundas Square. I love Y-D Square for live music shows and some other live events (World Cup time is always interesting… if a bit dangerous if you’re a small woman) but for movies? Hmm. Would it be silly of me to want something intimate in an outdoor arena? Or is that being a bit… outre?

Enter Open Roof Films. Started by a group of art-minded Torontonians (including Michael MacMillan, former Executive Chairman and CEO of Alliance Atlantis), the series has a special focus on showcasing Canadian talent, as well as building community among the vast network of Toronto’s numerous cultural and economic pseudo-villages. I interviewed one of the founders of this newly-minted series a couple weeks back on the radio, and during that interview I was told the series is based on a similar idea out of New York City, and arose from that, as well as casual conversations between people who just… love movies (a lot), and, like me, were seeking a way of bringing people with similar passions together. Seated in a group, illuminated by a screen’s glow and a canopy of stars, one becomes enraptured with the night, the sound, the music, and the crowd. Really, you can’t much more intimate.

Part of what gives the Open Roof Film series this special brand of intimacy is its location; situated in the parking lot of a local brewery, the space is nestled between a raised highway (and Lake Ontario) to the south (and yes, you can actually see the lake), the thick-set brick building of the Amsterdam Brewery to the West, and a massive screen and sound system to the north . The East opens to the spectacular light show of the CN Tower and the cluster of skyscraper in the financial district. You’re close enough to the lake that you can actually see stars when the sky darkens. A gaggle of portable chairs is set up where the seriously filmy-minded can situate themselves, while a wide bar runs the length of space at the back, for the more social among us. It’s a nice set-up that encourages interaction and conversation, while providing a respectful option for those who want to sit and concentrate.

Not that there was a whole lot of that happening the night I attended. This Movie Is Broken, the film featuring band Broken Social Scene, was being screened, and the evening had the distinct feel of a gigantic party, much like the band’s own concerts. Observing the crowd swaying and smiling (some even danced), I couldn’t help but wonder how many had (or hadn’t) gone to see Bruce MacDonald’s movie when it was shown in a cinema proper. How much did being outside on a beautiful summer night influence their decision to see it? To go to a place where they could drink beer, smoke, dance with their girl/boyfriends, and laugh and chat with their friends? Probably a whole lot.

This Movie Is Broken is just the sort of film that was perfect for an outdoor film series; with a romantic storyline interspersed with some genuinely excellent concert footage (taken from a Toronto show last year), MacDonald’s dreamy, gorgeous homage to love and music was a genius choice to play at Open Roof Films, and a great example of the power of outdoor event to draw disparate group of people together. While the age of attendees ranged from anywhere between 25 and 40, there was no “average” anything (other than the challenging parking, which is de rigeur in Toronto, alas). There was a nice casual vibe to the entire evening, even though the audience maintained a respectful (ahem, Canadian) silence through much of the movie’s running time.

It was interesting when, peeking through the brewery windows (that lead to the loos) at one point, seeing the tiny dots of enraptured faces sitting mute and staring at a screen as the CN Tower flashed sades of blue and red past them. It says something about the power of cinema, music, and togetherness that simply can’t be replicated in a multiplex. Combined with the gorgeous after-film visuals of artist Brian T. Moore and the shining skyline, one couldn’t help but be intoxicated. Noise, motion, light, stillness, silence -and lots of gravel: I think this is the beginning of a beautiful romance… or maybe a re-introduction to an old lover -movie-going -I thought I’d forgotten the smell and taste and touch of. What bliss.

What She Wore

By Catherine Kustanczy

On July 24, 2010

In movies

Clothing is a personal thing for many women. That material intimacy is something the Nora Ephron and Delia Ephron understand very well.

The award-winning duo, who’ve penned some of my favorite movies (including Nora’s “When Harry Met Sally“), have brought their award-winning play Love, Loss, And What I Wore to Toronto. It runs at the cozy Panasonic Theatre through the end of the summer. A portion of ticket sales will, appropriately, benefit Dress For Success, a fantastic charity that provides professional services (including attire) to disadvantaged women. What a perfect fit.

The Ephrons’ monologue-style play features a collection of stories that connect certain outfits with special, significant life moments. There’s the story of wedding dresses, sexy boots, and the joys (or not) of purses, the challenges of mothers, the pangs of body types, and the perfection that is “BLLAAACK!”. It’s all melded together with happy/sad/bittersweet/funny flavours. Performers Andrea Martin, Mary Walsh, Louise Pitre, Sharron Matthews and Paula Brancati do a truly fantastic job of combining the happy and the sad with equal dollops of grace, charm, wit, and sensitivity.

I asked the Toronto-based actor and performer Sharron Matthews about her thoughts around clothing, creativity, and cabaret recently. She has a long history of performance, with everything from Les Miserables to Mean Girls on her resume, and is a positively radiant stage presence. Her responses are very enlightening and refreshingly honest. Enjoy.

Which aspects of Love, Loss, And What I Wore do you most relate to?

That is a hard question. Not because I don’t feel like I relate, but because the things that I seem to relate to are a bit challenging for me to acknowledge. My first monologue is about a child losing a parent and when the material assignments were sent out I was hoping and dreading that I might get this piece. I lost my dad when I was very young and it had a huge impact on my family. I also talk a lot about my weight, now it fluctuates and how hard being a big girl can be. I was a bit nervous about doing these pieces as well but the more I read them the more I thought, “Well, these are truthful and this a group of women that needs to be represented in fabulousness as well as in hardship.”

Why do you think so many women associate clothing with other things? Do you think women are more prone to association (& connection) than men?

I think that women are more ‘collectors’ then men are: (of) shoes, jackets, purses. Men don’t have as many accessories as we do, as a rule. Some of us have closets that are like art galleries… I know I do… featuring shoe boxes with pictures of the shoes on them. And yes, I do think we are more prone to association and connection. We are also, for the most part, more sentimental. We see “a shirt that a wore on my first job interview, the day I was hired to begin my career”…and men see a shirt. I think that it can be a sensual thing, the feel of a fabric or the smell but is also a sense-memory thing… we feel something and we sometimes be in that place again… recalling our emotions.

How much has your other work, specifically in TV and film, has been useful in doing the Ephrons’ work?

Though I have worked in TV and film -of course not as much as Paula, Mary and Andrea -I think that my work in cabaret, as a storyteller has been my greatest asset with the stories in Love, Loss And What I Wore. I feel right at home in this piece. The audience is present and a part of the piece and the stories are brief… like a song.

Define ‘cabaret’ as it is, now. What does it mean to you? What do you think it means to audiences of the 21st century?

I went online to look for some definitions of cabaret. They are all very dry and general: “a form of entertainment featuring comedy, song, dance, and theatre, distinguished mainly by the performance venue.” I recently did a cabaret that was a part of the Young Centre’s Saturday Night Cabaret Series and (their) description is one of my favourites: ”Cabaret is a combination of intimacy, personality, and social contact.”

So my definition of cabaret is a evening of musical storytelling including themes that are universal and accessible, but challenging at the same time. I love cabaret. It is the way I best feel (able to) express myself and really explore my creativity and my artistic voice.

I also think that cabaret can be performed “intimately” in a huge theatre. (It) is an art form that is not fully recognized in Canada.

To some, the word ‘cabaret’ conjures up images of singers belting out “My Way” in gold lame outfits . I am slowly trying to change that perception. I believe that cabaret is a journey, not the picture I just described. It is a form of storytelling to me. A way of breaking down the fourth wall an reaching out to people.

Stage or screen -what’s your favorite?

Having done screen work, I have a huge respect for people who work in film and TV day in and day out. Film acting is a true skill and the people who do it well are artists as well as technicians. I enjoy the spontaneity that is the stage. It is so live in front of an audience and you can never be totally sure what is going to happen. I like to feel an immediate response to what I do… it fuels me to move forwards. I love the stage.

Peace Full

By Catherine Kustanczy

On June 27, 2010

In food

It’s been a dramatic weekend in Toronto.

Amidst reports of police brutality and wanton violence, it’s hard to know who or what to believe. My household, like many in the area, hunkered down with the TV, radio, and internet. The dreary, cloudy day didn’t help the collective mood of the city -it made the sounds and images that much more depressing.

So it was that I spontaneously decided to cook. My kitchen really is my refuge.

Despite the humidity, soup felt right. It’s comfort food, after all. I decided on a Jamaican-style sweet potato soup, owing to a half-bag of said veg in my cupboard, and the crying need for something hot, spicy and nourishing. As the news reports detailed more arrests (as well as -oh yeah! -actual progress at the G8 an G20 meetings), I held my soup bowl and felt, in my literal and figurative guts, that things would be okay. And they were, at least in my little world.

You will need:

olive oil
roughly 6-8 sweet potatoes (you can also use yams), chopped
roughly 2-3 tbsp chopped fresh ginger (about a third the size of your hand)
2 garlic cloves, chopped

4-6 cups chicken stock (depending on how runny you like your soup)
2 medium-sized orange slices
1 cup cream
Spices (in order of use): ground turmeric, ground coriander, ground cumin, organic brown sugar, fresh ground pepper, fresh nutmeg, cinnamon
salt to taste (I like sea salt)

Pour oil into a deep pot -make sure it’s enough to cover the bottom and warm on a medium heat.

Place chopped garlic and ginger into pot; stir and let saute for about 3 minutes, until fragrant. Sprinkle 1/2 tsp of turmeric on top and stir.

Add chopped sweet potatoes (or yams). Stir so that the ginger and garlic covers the pieces. Saute for about a minute, and then add roughly a 1/2 cup of stock. Stir. Replace lid.

Note: you’ll be repeating this add-stock-and-stir thing a lot, so be sure to keep a watch. You basically want to cook the sweet potatoes in stock until they’re mushy.

During this time, be sure to add your spices: turmeric (about 1 tbsp), ground coriander (1/2 tbsp) and ground cumin (1 tsp). Add about 1/2 tbsp of brown sugar (less if you’re using yams). Squeeze in the juice from the two orange slices with your hands. Stir it all and keep cooking.

Use the bottom of the spoon you’re using to stir things to break the pieces apart. Keep adding stock and stirring. I like this slow method -it produces a rich flavour and you get to control how thick or thin the soup is.

When the potatoes are soft (and you have a decidedly soup-y looking concoction), add a bit more stock and stir. Using either a hand-blender or a traditional blender, puree the lot right down. This make take a few tries, as ginger tends to be stalky sometimes, but keep going. If you don’t get every little bit, don’t worry; you can always put the whole thing through a hand blender one more time later on, unless you like bits of spicy ginger in your soup.

In any case, post-puree, you should have a beautiful orange-yellow pap. Put back onto low heat and stir. Add cream, in little bits, constantly stirring and taking care you don’t get any flare-ups from the thick soup (they hurt!).

Add the rest of the spices: a pinch of cinnamon, and a few good grates of the fresh nutmeg. Grind a good amount of fresh pepper straight into the pot as well as roughly 2 tbsp of salt and stir well. Cook on low heat (lid on) for about 15 minutes, stirring a few times.

If you still find the soup too thick, add more stock to taste, heat, and stir. Keep in mind -it’s supposed to have that pungent, spicy hot-sweetness to it. The odd chunk of ginger is actually quite delightful. And it’s even better the next day.

Ladle into bowls and enjoy.
Voila, comfort.

Appetizer

By Catherine Kustanczy

On May 17, 2010

In food

I had one of the best meals of my life Saturday. But I’m not going to tell you about it.

At least, not yet. Between joejob drain, chasing stress(/inspiration), planning, and mad, passionate New York organizing (yes, I’m moving there), not to mention cold feet and a coughing dog (true), the timing just seems wrong to ruminate on the subtle, if no less voluptuous joys of a meal well-digested and thoroughly enjoyed.

I will tell you this: if you’re in Toronto, get your good, hungry self on over to the other side of the Don Valley Parkway (ie The Great Divide), to The Local Company (511 Danforth Avenue). Stay tuned to this space for details on the tasty morsels, delectable nibbles, and gorgeous big bites of what has to be one of the most delicious meals I’ve ever enjoyed. For now, a little lick.

Alongside gorgeous design, The Local Company has a wonderful ambiance that’s partly attributable to the classy surroundings, though kudos must go to the fabulous Suzana Da Camara and her talented musicians; their cover of Sade’s “No Ordinary Love” was every bit as sensuous as my creme brulee, and her superior French-language tunes were completely and utterly… lovely. The servers were equally attentive, knowledgeable, efficient, friendly, and very, very witty, exploding any degree of stuffiness that might’ve been created from such a gorgeous, modern space.

And give me a moment (however brief -for now) to swoon over the chef! I’ve always thought chefs were rock stars, and that’s made clear here. Sault St. Marie native Trevor Middleton is truly dedicated to his craft, approaching it just as much an artist as he does a crusader, teacher, and (true) geographer; affable, honest, and deeply committed to promoting local, sustainable food, lovingly cooked, he told me he wants people coming to The Local Company to get a taste of “Grandma’s” kitchen. Oh yum. What a deliciously posh, passionate, creative Grandma Mr. Middleton is. In true granny fashion, I left happily overstuffed.

Chef is also incredibly kind to guests at The Local Company. Amazing fact: it’s very reasonable. Really. That’s what you get for not being in the trendy part of town. But then, who would want to be? It’s worth the drive, for so many reasons.

In short, I had an orgasm on a plate. But I’m not going to tell you about it -yet. After all, there’s value in food foreplay… right? You’ll have to wait for the gooey details.

Sex on a plate, here we go again.

Sex, Death, Tolstoy

By Catherine Kustanczy

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 21^st (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 Catherine Kustanczy

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.

Eternal Factory

By Catherine Kustanczy

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.

Luminato Lights Up

By Catherine Kustanczy

On March 9, 2010

In opera

Luminato has announced its music line-up, and wow, what a gaggle of goodies to behold.

For those of you wondering what the heck Luminato is, voila: it’s a ten-day, kick-ass culture fest that’s happened in Toronto every June since 2007. When it began, some people sniped that the money being poured into it would be better invested with various Toronto-based arts companies, but frankly, David Pecaut & Co. had something far more larger -and more worldly -than the local yokels envisioned. Partnering with cosmetics giant L’Oreal, the arts leader helped to bring a myriad of accessible, fun, internationally-minded cultural happenings and figures to the city. For ten days every June, Torontonians of all stripes get excited about all things artistic -which is quite a feat, considering how hockey-obsessed a town this usually is.

Past years have featured some truly beautiful programming, including a sexy, gorgeous, East Asian version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream directed by Tim Supple and the award-winning Black Watch by the National Theatre of Scotland. Last year’s music events included a tremendous Neil Young tribute (featuring Sarah Slean and Steven Page, among many others) and two concerts (one free) by Balkan superstar Goran Bregovic, whom I interviewed. As Luminato CEO Janice Price reminded the assembled guests this morning, 80% of Luminato events are free; to me, this means they want the biggest number of eyeballs gawking at their stuff -or, to put it another way, the greatest numbers of bodies dancing, laughing, and enjoying the being-togetherness of arts events as possible. I’ve seen some combination of all of those at various Luminato events through the years. English, French, Sanskrit, Serbian -language melts away in those moments when you’re sharing a cultural event with a crowd. I suspect it’s that kind of wordless joy Luminato’s aiming at.

This year’s music selections are proof positive of the fest’s approachability and range. Rufus Wainwright‘s opera Prima Donna is making its North American premiere (I listed it as one of the things I most want to see in 2010), and he’ll also be doing a solo concert based on his recent record release, All Days Are Nights: Songs for Lulu (Universal Music). There’s something so unapologetically European about Wainwright; despite his Canadian musical pedigree, I’ve always found him to have a style, sound, and sensibility far more suited to ‘the continent‘. His participation in last fall’s tribute to Irish artist Gavin Friday (at Carnegie Hall; produced by Hal Willner) only cemented his worldly, exploratory approach to artistry. I can hardly wait to see him.

Luminato 2010 will also feature an outdoor concert called Rock the Casbah, to feature the terrific, lively French/North African band Lo’Jo, as well as the punk-meets-Arab sounds of Rachid Taha, whose 2008 Toronto concert was one of the best live shows I’ve ever attended. Taha and his band are infectiously good; like Brega, they don’t sing in English, but it hardly matters. When you’re dancing, you don’t really notice, though you might recognize Taha’s cover of The Clash classic song the event is named after. Both his and Lo’Jo’s inclusion in Luminato is a testament to the festival’s breadth of vision and its open embrace of wider cultural patterns. So too is Malian master Salif Keita, who will be taking part in Global Blues along with Cuban band Mezcla, a danceable jazz-blues fusion group led by Pablo Menendez. There’s also John Malkovich -not sure if he’s singing, but playing a murderer, with music provided by the Vienna Academy Orchestra, has to be pregnant with all kinds of operatic-like drama. Called The Infernal Comedy: Confessions of a Serial Killer, the work is based on the true story of celebrated Austrian author and notorious murderer Jack Unterweger. Talk about a worldly vision.

That doesn’t mean Luminato forgets about their home and native land, however. The Canadian Songbook has been a staple of the fest, and this year will feature a tribute to the work of Bruce Cockburn. He’ll be sharing the stage with friends and musicians, including fellow Canucks Hawksley Workman, Margo Timmins (of the Cowboy Junkies) and Michael Occhipinti, with more to come. At today’s announcement, Cockburn called his inclusion in the festival a testament to his “longevity, persistence, and refusal to disappear” and added, smiling, that he’s “looking forward to the peculiar things they’re gonna do with my stuff.” He seemed genuinely chuffed at the tribute, observing that his usual creative method in the past would be to “record the songs, forget about them, and make room in my head for new ones.”

Cockburn’s inclusion is interesting in light of his previous anti-corporate past; Luminato has always been upfront about its close partnership with L’Oreal. The cosmetic giant’s Canadian section President and CEO, Javier San Juan, noted in his opening remarks that there had been, at the beginning of the fest, concerns in the combination between arts and business. San Juan emphasized the equal partnerships that exist between all facets of Luminato; concepts of working together closely and demonstrating a larger vision of the arts and its relationship to everyday life, were always priorities, and in case you have doubts, look at the programming. Even Cockburn, with his anti-logging, pro-environment, fantasy-rocket-launcher tunes, is getting on the train for the sake of his art. It’s just one event I’m deeply looking forward to. June is going to be full of celebration.

Don’t Sign This

By Catherine Kustanczy

On September 15, 2009

In inspiration

The Beatles Rock Band opening Cinematic E3
by pamelapatty

I came across this incredible piece of animation courtesy of my illustrator friend Kit on Facebook, who kindly provided a link. It’s taken from The Beatles ‘ Rock Band game. Yes, it seems the Fab Four are everywhere these days, what with videos and box sets, and, from what I can glean across social media networks, a whole new demographic coming to know and adore their enormous -and enormously influential -body of work. Watching this animation, with its combination of running, flying, playing and well… playing, I was struck by the sprightly, fun spirit of the piece, and how it perfectly encapsulates the madness that was Beatlemania.

Equally, I can’t help but look at the footage with confusion and a discomfort. I’m immediately reminded of the masses lined up outside some of Toronto’s swankiest hotels for the past few days. People are breathlessly waiting for some kind of glimpse of a celebrity -a wave will suffice, never mind the pandemonium around a handshake or an autograph. There’s a surreal kind of madness around fame that I do not pretend to understand. Perhaps my own time around the famous and celebrated has jaded me, although, in all frankness, I’ve seen people of all stripes and levels of notoriety at their very best, and at their very worst. When it comes to artists, the guy playing the back room of a dirty beer joint is sometimes more awe-inspiring than the stadium-fillers (and the latter will cop to this, too); the violinist on the subway platform can produce a more transcendent experience than a symphony, a spontaneous piece of graffiti inspire something deeper and more stirring than any framed canvas. I guess it depends on one’s mood, and perhaps more tellingly, perspective.

But at the heart of it, people are people, whether they walk around barefoot or they’re escorted everywhere in Cadillac Escalades. Artists -not ones playing at art or fussing around its edges -are seeking some kind of connection, to a wider world and experience than is easily granted. Does fame water down artistic output? That’s a tough one -one I’m still at odds to work out. Does the public actually want to be challenged? I engaged in a debate around celebrity reporting earlier on my Twitter feed, with Doug Saunders and I both agreeing that, from a journalistic point of view, offering intelligent, insightful reportage is harder than ever (though if you’re looking, check out Lynn Crosbie, who is one of the best). The Beatles manifest in cartoon form is, on many levels, a keen commentary on the nature of popular perception around fame -we like our heroes two-dimensional, don’t we? Don’t make a mistake, don’t get too weird, don’t be political, and talk in a language we all get. (The whole “Dammit, be normal and stop the weird crap, you’re one of us! / Dammit, you’re so awesome and stratospherically awesome, you’re not like us!” dichotomy is a whole other argument, and perhaps, future blog post.) The fact you can now play along with The Beatles, and thus claim your own little slice of Beatles-dom, makes it even more interesting, twisted, and surreal: “You too can be Paul, John, George or Ringo… just press a button!” Forget practise and craft. Pffft.

For me, artists -the ones I really admire, am challenged by, and who open up ways of perceiving existence and point at (indeed, celebrate) the world in all its maddening, chaotic horror/splendor -they aren’t two-dimensional (even if some choose to take that by-now-tiresome ironic pose, or play that damn role into the ground -especially annoying if you know they’re actually interesting). In the same vein, I don’t buy the airbrushed version of celebrity. I don’t want to. Messy, human, faulty, wrinkly, fat, grey and ridiculous: kind of like the rest of us, only with flashbulbs, sharpies, Whole Foods and questionable taste.

I’ll be on the Park Hyatt‘s roof shortly -not because I want to meet any celebrities, but because it’s simply one of my favourite spot in Toronto, and I want to enjoy the September sunshine while it lasts. If anyone wants a chat, famous or not … you know where to find me. Leave the cartoon-you on the street below.

Random Acts of Play

By Catherine Kustanczy

On June 22, 2009

In opera

1. Speaking to an unmanned camera; I was filming an introduction to my latest video interview piece (on Awake and Sing, currently on at the Young Centre) and kept flubbing it. Thinking his presence might be throwing me, my sweet/awesome/brilliant cameraman/editor walked away to look out the window, leaving me to speak one-on-one with the lens. It worked.

2. Going or ice cream at La Paloma, one of Toronto’s best places for yummy, homemade gelato. It was a hot day, and it was perfect for a cone. I walked down the street, me and my chocolate hazelnut, enjoying the sights and the sunshine. Oh, simple joys.

3. Overhearing my neighbours’ nephews playing in their swimming pool as birds chirped. Remember when pools were such a big deal as a kid? Like, a really big deal? Yeah, me too.

4. Going for a bike ride and calling out to a raccoon perched carefully on a wooden fence, only to be greeted by five little raccoon faces. Now, I know they aren’t necessarily the most wanted creatures (especially now that Toronto has a strike involving city workers -who collect trash among other duties -on its hands), but it was just a dear little moment to have five little heads come popping up from the fence at my Doctress Doolittle moment.

5. I’m going to the Shaw Festival tomorrow. Seeing lots of comedies, which I love. Laughter = good.

Also?

My Goran Bregovic interview is posted.

Zivalo!