On Railton Road @ Museum of the Home

Performed in the light, open space in the bottom floor of The Museum of the Home, On Railton Road focussed on the Gay community who led protests for rights not only of the community, but to preserve homes across London in the 1970s. The production fictionalises the lives of a real group of squatters, then intersperses (with increased absurdity) the agit-prop punch and judy style play the group actually wrote and performed at the time. The production was part interactive performance, part play, part puppet show, and wildly touching and tender in its exploration of love and community. The choice to perform it in alley format with the lights on for the majority of the time created a sense of community in the audience; this was bolstered by the actors interaction with the audience both in formal and informal ways.

And the puppets. I cannot begin to describe the hilarity that ensued.

Overall a delightful production merging history, performance, and fun.

Good by C.P. Taylor @ Harold Pinter (West End)

The performances are extraordinary. A three-hander where two of the actors play at least 10 characters each (we had lost track by the interval) while one plays a single character who changes — or does he simply become more of who he was to begin with?

C. P. Taylor’s 1982 play presents the story of John Halder (David Tennant), a German professor whose ideas about sociology and psychology are picked up by the Nazis and used to justify all manner of heinous acts. The play doesn’t let Halder off the hook, depicting how he abandons his (Jewish) best friend, mentally ill mother, wife and children, as he is slowly taken into the Nazi machine. A machine which “values” his ideas and makes him feel a part of something, appealing to what has been missing throughout his life on the edges. Tennant’s performance is incredible and nuanced - his simplicity underscores the apparent normalcy of these early connections with the National Socialist party, and helps the audience see a man who lies to himself about what is going on around him to justify personal gains.

What is perhaps frustrating about the play in 2022, however, is that although it doesn’t let Halder get off without our judgement, it also didn’t seem to condemn him clearly either. The symbolism in Dominic Cooke’s direction was beautiful - a cell like room where fire comes through opening doors, books are burned, and ultimately Jewish prisoners playing their instruments as he enters a concentration camp to survey his work.

However, this felt too easy - the same way we have seen these images over and over again, to the point where I wonder whether we are de-sensitized as a society. We continue to see individuals - similarly “lonely” and “misunderstood” young white men are taken into belief systems every day, and increasingly in society we see these men acting out with violence against oppressed groups who are only just beginning to see equality. What could (or should?) this production look like in the time of incels and Qanon? And why isn’t that the production we got?

Again, this isn’t to say that the production wasn’t good - the performances were exceptional, the set symbolic and effective; and yet, it lacked a messiness and left me thinking about how much more impact this script, with this star, could have had today.

Age of Rage - International Theatre Amsterdam @ Barbican

Mud, steel pipes, a metal band. Blood from the ceiling. Mud on the ground, and thrown at one another. Not deus ex machina but dead children rising from the ground. Ivo Von Hove’s Age of Rage is a marathon of familial betrayal, ancient Greek style. Starting with Agamemnon and the gods’ edict to sacrifice Iphigenia to secure victory and retrieve Helen from Troy, and ending with Orestes and Electra’s murder of their mother and her new husband, the production traces the linkage across the family tree. What normally spans multiple plays and a good 20+ years in storyline is served to us in a driving 3 hrs 45 minutes.

The production employs a metal band live on stage, accompanying the action like a musical score to great effect, and choreography which takes place on the main stage area and also on a far upstage area, obscured by a lit scrim which also serves as the door — to another room, to outside, to the afterlife. Bodies move about the stage in writhing choreography, but the production works best when it strips back the chorus dancers and is just solo actors in extended monologues, wailing at the injustice of the world.

It was at times too long. I could have done with fewer dance interludes, and occasionally a faster pace, however these quibbles are outshone by an unnerving commitment to the concept. My only other complaint is simply that given the choice of aesthetic, some performances almost felt too tidy. Clytemnestra stood out for me as a beautifully messy performance. Mud covered, sweaty, dress nearly falling off and toppling across the mud in knee high heeled boots, the absurdity of this woman and her situation were undeniable.

The impact of combining the stories, however, was a powerful one — quite simply, it reminded us that Greek Tragedy is mainly men doing stupid things which cause pain and suffering to the women and children around them, who in turn overreact, and enact stupidity on others. On and on and on.

Alice and the World We Live In by Alex Haber @ FemFest 2020

Due to COVID, Sarasvati are offering many of their productions digitally via live stream as well as with limited in-person seating. I viewed this live-streamed - there is one more performance Sept 26.

This was initially planned as a full production, indoors in a theatre, however when COVID meant that was not possible, Sarasvati reworked the concept for the show to be a staged reading outdoors, using simple lighting, sound, and representative design. The actors wore mics, which allowed of course for the live stream audio pickup, but also for the integration of sound design and effects on the live voices.

Elena Anciro and Ray Strachan had the challenging task of portraying intense love and loss, while not coming close together — speaking to one another from the tops of three picnic tables set apart from one another. Their connection is believable and meaningful, despite the physical distance — their early meeting scenes charming, and the flashbacks to arguments convincing.

The script hops around in time, which at first is challenging to follow - there is a crisis, there is a meet-cute (which repeats and re-shapes nicely) and there is the current moment. These intersperse through the script, hopping in time, which in a reading scenario is difficult. At times it felt the script would have benefited from more clarity on this front; the most effective scenes were the ones where they stayed in place for longer, and where the blend into a new time was a subtle continuation of the conversation rather than a cinematic hard cut. This may have also benefited the overall pace of the script, which began to feel less nuanced around the middle section.

Production-wise, it was nice to see the use of a mix of camera angles for the live stream. A limitation, of course, was that the harsh lighting for an outdoor production made it difficult to see the actors faces at times. Similarly, early introductions of sound effects on actors were a challenge to discern whether this was a poor connection, or an intentional design aspect. All in all, this raised questions for me (in a good way) about how to stage work for in-person and filmed streaming simultaneously, and appropriately leverage the mediums.

The Three Sisters - Red Torch Theatre (recording - via Stage Russia HD)

I watched this via Stage Russia HD, however it was available there only for a limited time. It is also available (For a fee) via Digital Theatre subscriptions.

I first read about this production last year, when researching Timofey Kulyabin as his production of Ivanov was on at Barbican during a visit. You can read my thoughts on that production here. His production of The Three Sisters is almost entirely non-vocalized; the characters, aside from Ferapont, speak in sign language. This does not mean it is silent, however. The production has a detailed score that creeps on you. At first it is high heels clicking on the floor, or floor boards creaking. It is characters playing a game in the next room, or Andrij practicing the violin. Toys squeaking, dishes clanking, clocks ticking - all the sounds of life. This score swells and rescinds magically as the story goes on.

The set enables us to see all the rooms of the house at once - a large open space, with smaller rooms set up and demarcated using lines on the floor, like taping out a set, except that it doesn’t grow upward. These lines do stretch upward in the imaginations of the actors, however, who peek around walls, and behave as if they are there. Thus while a scene may be occurring in one area, wordless, the sounds from another room emphasize, engage, and intentionally distract from what is at play. These sounds make the relationships between the characters clearer than they have ever been.

We see Natasha fretting and primping while Masha broods. We see Irina lamenting her boredom with the choices available to her, while we see servants working around her.

The production is placed now, but also not-now. Characters receive messages on smartphones, and these devices are even used to light an entire set of scenes after the fire, the eerie blue glow of digital interaction a haunting reminder that our own times are not so far departed from those of turn-of-the-twentieth Russia.

The boredom, the excess…these were all too prescient as we sit here in our collective spaces. So many of us with the privilege of boredom, of devices to be bored of, while those less fortunate must go out and work in these dangerous times, risking their lives to deliver us sushi or mcdonalds or groceries in the comfort of our homes, so WE don’t have to go out.

Most striking were the moments, well chosen by Kulyabin, where the movement and sound stopped entirely, and we saw the characters just sit and wait, only the sound of a ticking clock to accompany them. The show was truly striking, comfortably holding your attention despite its 4 hour running time. The time flew by. Yet didn’t.

review. Bikeface @ Toronto Fringe Best of Fringe

I saw this quite some time ago, and it has taken me some time to sit down and write about it. Playwright Natalie Frija weaves an intriguing tale of adventure and feminism, drawing parallels between turn-of-the-twentieth century anti-cycling messages and contemporary experiences of female cyclists. I think that the script is definitely a niche; if you never cycle, you might miss pieces of the story, and definitely jokes. Overall, however, a strong feminist message stands out, as she highlights the differences in how we position adventure to young boys versus young girls.

Director Mandy Roveda handles the staging challenges well. How do you block a show that primarily takes place on a bike?! She does a great job managing a relatively stationary stage setup, using additional spaces well to create the many locations we visit. Performer Clare Blackwood is engaging, and really makes the material sing.

Overall, I think that dramaturgically this could have had a few edits to tighten up the message while simultaneously making it a little less didactic. That said, it is a great fringe show, and one I hope gets to some more audiences.

review. Bug by Yolanda Bonnell - Manidoons Collective @ Luminato

This is a difficult story. Yolanda Bonnell's solo show, bug, is a daring construction which weaves creation story with real life and esoteric worlds to create a moment in which we witness all the joy and pain, hope and despair of a young indigenous woman. She is many women. Women whose babies are taken, or whose daughters and sisters and mothers and aunts disappear or are killed. The women Bonnell shares with us, however, have hope. Hope that they can and will do better. 

The physical work in the play is beautiful. Haunting images of Bonnell dancing, creating shapes to transform the space, throwing herself on the ground, or reaching oh so gently for the little ladybug. Situating the audience in a sharing circle, Bonnell connects eye to eye with many of the audience members. This isn't simply a performance, it is a shared story, which does not allow the audience to sit back. It is difficult viewing, but intentionally so. 

Director Cole Alvis does a great job pacing the production to build tension and release just where we need it. The production team's choice to share the creation story of the top, and also to bring a spiritual healer to each performance is a wise one. Despite the hopeful tone, the real pain of the characters is palpable, and audience members are visibly shaken. 

This is a challenging, emotional piece of theatre, and one that needs to keep living across the country. 

review. Burning Doors - Belarus Free Theatre @ Luminato Festival

In case you forgot, there is a war going on. A war not only of annexation of Crimea by Russia, which Ukrainians are resisting, but also a war against the artists and others who protest the Russian annexation as well as the totalitarian measures enacted within Russia on their people. 

Belarus Free Theatre make their Luminato (and I believe Canadian) debut with a piece of theatre centred as many of their pieces are around the imprisonment of artists under current totalitarian regimes. Unlike some of their other work, however, the stories told in this piece not only come from artists like Pussy Riot's Maria Alyokhina who is now free (and joins the company in the creation and performance) but also in artists still sitting in Russian prisons, like Ukrainian filmmaker Oleg Sentsov. 

The work is urgent. Using their language of extreme physical exertion, the company are led by artistic Director Natalia Kaliada and Nikolai Khalezin in the creation of a performance that is demanding. One that doesn't allow the audience to sit back and watch, but requires them to endure, much like Sentsov continues to as he endures day 37 of his hunger strike. What I always find striking in their work is the inclusion of humour. Dark and biting, their portrayal of the Russian yes-men as selfish and idiotic, while completely flippant about the lives of others is the perfect counterpoint to the extreme images of physical abuse and torture we see elsewhere in the production. Images of bodies dangling from circus ropes, or thrust out into the audience unsettle and inquire. Repetition of gesture defamiliarizes, seducing us into seeing the actors as just bodies, then jarring us into remembrance that these are real, living, breathing people. 

For many, the work is too extreme. The actors work like athletes, and have the physiques to show it. Hurling themselves through space, lifting and carrying one another. What's amazing is to see the reactions of a North American audience to this kind of dangerous physical work. While this tradition is far more common in Eastern Europe in the tradition of Grotowski and Barba, in North America this is foreign. 

Their work is not for everyone. It is difficult to watch, and causes some to shut off. I believe, however that it is this intentional polarization that makes the work so evocative. They don't just politely ask us to act, they require it. 

If you haven't seen their work, you should. But prepare. This is not easy watching, no matter how prepared you think you are. 

For more on Oleg Sentsov and the campaign to free him, visit the joint statement issued by Luminato and TIFF earlier this month. 

review. Frame by Frame @ National Ballet of Canada

Robert Lepage's work with images is a part of what makes his theatrical performances so astounding; the way he understands perspective and illusion is like nothing else, so the idea of him working not just with actors, but with dancers who move in shapes and formations was obviously very exciting. 

Lepage pairs up with the National Ballet of Canada's Guillaime Cote to create Frame by Frame, a mildly biographic homage to the life of Norman McLaren, the renowned film maker and animator. The piece is best when it is tied to McLaren's work, providing Cote and Lepage the tools - light and movement - to create magical pictures inspired by or re-creating McLaren's images. These scenes, which often offer a glimpse into what McLaren's perspective on the creation might have been by positioning him in relationship to the images, play on ideas of perspective and control. The most poignant for me was where the dancer playing McLaren used a paint brush to shape the movements of the dancer we saw on the screen. 

The scenes that focused on McLaren's life and travel were less interesting; although the scenes about his travel to China created some beautiful imagery using a screen (which definitely foreshadowed the scene I spoke of earlier) they felt superfluous. Similarly, a couple of scenes about dance classes, which I don't doubt reflect historical accuracy of his relationship and inspiration from dancers, felt like unnecessary devices to just give the dancers in the company something to do. 

Surprisingly, the music of the piece really stood out as well, with jazz in contrast to Tchaikovsky, all starkly in relationship to the synth-based sounds of his more experimental animations. 

The most exciting part of the ballet, however, wasn't necessarily what I saw on stage, but the ideas that these images elicited in my own imagination, both while I was watching it and in the days since. I think it is a testament to an artist's craft that they can inspire new ideas while not detracting from those they are presenting. 

D'Arcy Symposium - First Annual Pop-Up Art Show - May 26

Sweet Mama and the Salty Muffins is getting a one-night remount! We are pleased to be invited to share the play as part of the first annual D'Arcy Symposium Pop-Up art show. The show will bring together installations and performances from a variety of artists in a 120 year old house in downtown Toronto. The show runs throughout the evening on May 26 and is PWYC. More details here. 

review. Idomeneus @ Soulpepper

I love seeing this kind of work on Canadian stages, particularly stages of this size and reputation, and not just relegated to an indie company with a 50 seat capacity. Soulpepper's production of Idomeneus challenges the audience with form, providing a starkly minimalist, brutal set, with actors in anachronistic modern costume. The adaptation by German Roland Schimmelpfennig (which premiered at Bavarian Staatsschauspiel in 2008) plays both with an irreverence to the language itself, injecting modern phrases within the more traditional speeches and images, and also with a take on the unreliability of memory and how stories are told -- poignant in our "post-truth" times. At times the irreverent language feels out of sorts (I wonder whether it was smoother in German), but as a whole, it is a relevant update to the ancient text. 

The production itself was uneven, at times feeling like there was no clear sense from the company on what the tone should be; some actors spoke the text with a classical & declamatory style, while others spoke it in a more colloquial and contemporary manner, with still others in between. Couple this with a rather static choreography (the only real movement seemed to occur in the dark, or in vague and displaced choreographed movement scenes devoid of text), and unfortunately despite the electricity of the language and imagery in this brutalist space, the production fell short of leaving me electrified. In some sense, it felt like the idea of a German production, actualized by Canadians not steeped in the postdramatic style. 

All this said, in no way do I discourage people seeing it, as it is boldly un-like work you will see on major stages elsewhere in this country, and for that reason alone it should be on your list. Now, for us to make more....and do it even more successfully. 

New Ideas Festival @ Alumnae Theatre

The New Ideas Festival at Alumnae Theatre is in full swing! Two more chances to catch the Week 1 shows, then be sure to get your tickets for Week 2 which includes the show I've been working on, Sweet Mama and the Salty Muffins!

Sweet Mama and the Salty Muffins
by Ciarán Myers

Directed by Kendra Jones
Featuring Lisa Lenihan
Stage Manager Emma Miziolek

with original music by Sierra Noble

Get your tickets here! The $15 ticket for each week gets you all 4 shows for that week. And don't forget the reading on Saturday afternoon! 

Alumnae Theatre's 100th Season, and 30th New Ideas Festival

I am extremely excited to share that I am directing the world premiere of Ciarán Myers' new play Sweet Mama and the Salty Muffins as part of the New Ideas Festival at Alumnae Theatre. 

More on the play later...but before that, the festival are looking for volunteers! Alumnae are now in their 100th season, fuelled by members and volunteers, bringing new work to the stage. 

Stage Managers review this link  

Actors review this link for auditions
 
Rehearsals will begin January 30th and thereafter for the productions March 7-25. There are a plethora of ages, genders, types, etc to audition for across staged readings of longer works in development, and full productions, so plenty for actors to chew on. This is a non-union opportunity, but a great group of people. All auditions are for all plays, actors are grouped by age and gender so that directors can sit in on the groups relevant for their casting needs.

I am specifically looking for a female performer over 30 (really anywhere over 30 works, if it is the right person!) for a demanding one-hander that will be in full production. 

review. Musik für das Ende @ Soundstreams

I'm a pretty massive supporter of theatrical experiences that blur the lines between genre and play with audience expectations, so when I learned of Soundstreams' production, conceived by Chris Abraham and Zack Russell around the music of French Canadian composer Claude Vivier, I was intrigued. Vivier's compositions are chilling and unexpected. Any theatrical experience created surrounding these would definitely be unique and challenging. 

The production, staged in The Crow's Theatre main space, is in the round, with banks of audience along each of the 4 sides, with a cavernous space in the middle, reaching up to the heights of the flexible theatre space. The physical space is used to great effect, with many objects and lights descending from the heights of the room, and with superb lighting design to transform and bring the audience into the experience of the performance. It opens with a monologue in which Vivier returns home to find his door open; slowly the seemingly linear story blips out of line, and we realize that some of the references were outside of what we thought were the main story. The sound design throughout this first section is clever, amplifying certain everyday sounds and providing a glimpse into what the world might sound like to a composer, the rhythm and metre of every day sounds standing out in a chorus of relation to one another. 

From here, the piece moves into the performance and staging of Vivier's own compositions Glaubst du an die Unsterblichkeit der Seele, and Musik für das Ende. The vocal performances are outstanding, and initially the staging, with Vivier intervening, as if watching this in a dream, is very engaging. However, for me, the latter parts of the staging, with the singers moving around the space singing to one another, despite beautiful vocal performances and stunning lighting design, was lacklustre. Rather than showcasing the beautiful singing and hypnotic nature of the composition, it seemed to drag, and ultimately detract from the engagement the audience could have with the music. 

Definitely worth seeing and experiencing, but I think that the shape of the production could benefit from a re-think to ensure it does not lose the momentum of the first two section. 

news. Immersive Theatre Publication

My essay Re-Imagining Expectation for the Theatrical Experience is a part of this great collection of essays on contemporary immersive theatre practices, published by Common Ground Publishing, and edited by Josh Machamer. My essay touches on formative experiences and experiments in my own exploration of immersive theatre work, including work created in London, UK and in Winnipeg, Canada. 

Abstract
Re-Imagining Expectation for the Theatrical Event examines contemporary practices of immersive theatre and their efficacy in relationship to audience expectation for the what and how of the theatrical event. Contrary to earlier forms of theatrical performance, immersive work takes on many characteristics in terms of the dramatic versus the theatrical, the role of the audience in the creation of the experience, and the role of the performer in preparing and guiding this experience. At its heart, immersive theatre calls upon both performer and audience to connect, and to re-define their understanding not only of what makes the theatrical event, but what agency they have in the events taking place in front of them. This chapter combines an examination of the work of impel Theatre in Canada with the formative experiences Artistic Director Kendra Jones had performing in immersive work in London, UK for Run Riot’s You Me Bum Bum Train and RADA Festival’s How We Met. Throughout, the chapter seeks to demonstrate the necessity of such a theatrical evolution in the current milieu to ensure the continuance of the art form in an increasingly digitally connected and personally disconnected world. Kendra Jones is an independent theatre director, writer, and academic based in Toronto, Canada, and artistic director of impel Theatre. She has previously taught at the University of Winnipeg Department of Theatre & Film, and Prairie Theatre Exchange School. 

About the collection: 
Immersive Theatre: Engaging the Audience is a collection of essays that look to catalogue the popularization of “immersive” theatre/performance throughout the world; focusing on reviews of works, investigations into specific companies and practices, and the scholarship behind the “role” an audience plays when they are no longer bystanders but integral participants within production. Given the success of companies like Punchdrunk, Dream Think Speak, and Third Rail Projects, as current examples, immersive theatre plays a vital role in defining the theatrical canon for the twenty-first century. Its relatively “modern” and new status makes a collection like this ripe for conversation, inquiry, and discovery in a variety of ways. These immersive experiences engage the academy of “the community” at large, going beyond showcasing prototypical theatre artists. They embrace the collaborative necessity of society and art–helping to define the “stories” we tell and the WAY in which we tell them.

You can buy a hardcover or PDF copy here: https://cgscholar.com/bookstore/works/immersive-theatre 

review. 887 by Robert Lepage @ Canadian Stage

It has taken me a little while to write about this show, in part because I was wondering whether the feeling of awe would subside; whether I might come to a point in my reflections on the play where is began to see cracks in the surface. Alas, a week on, and there are none. 

Lepage is a master storyteller, completely in control of the simplicity of the story and his means of telling it at all times. Starting out speaking colloquially, he slips into the world of the play so seamlessly that once the audience realize, there is a collective gasp -- upon the first reveal of the set. We spiral into the world with him, one of memory and recollection, wherein he parallels his own childhood memories of people, most importantly his father, with a story of his own desire to be remembered in a certain way. 

Lepage's ingenious set design makes use of his love of live video in a striking way, illuminating the spaces he is talking about on a physical space with life -- causing us to ponder the simultaneously static and living nature of our memories of people. They remain the same, and yet change, almost unknown to us. Along with this, his use of perspective helps further this story of how we perceive and therefore how we remember. Lepage, the adult reflecting backward looms large over the apartment building, while Lepage the small child in the memory is towered over by the image of the soldier, brilliantly realized through camera angle and its relationship to a pair of boots. 

Despite all of the stage magic and technology, every moment, every image comes across as completely simple and effortless. Even the use of smell, moving from a moment with firecrackers in a metal bin, to rolling in boxes of memories seems almost accidental. But rest assured, not a single thing that transpired on the stage was accidental, each moment carefully planned and yet seeming to be a surprise even to Lepage himself. 

Another layer, of course, is the inherently Canadian story Lepage tells, weaving between French and English, manifesting the conflict of the play through nothing smaller than the French/English conflict present even today in Canada, and most certainly in 1960's Quebec. Through the use of Michèle Lalonde's Speak White, a stunning climactic moment in the performance by Lepage, every anxiety and inadequacy of "canadian-ness" came to light; particularly poignant in the face of the Canada 150 celebrations. What version of Canada are we celebrating? 

I'm truly honoured to have seen not only this master's work, but performed by the master himself. This will not soon leave my memory. 

thoughts. my new Everest

Every director has plays that sit on their bucket list, and for a lot of them, that's all that will ever come of them. Your bucket list plays are filled with scrapes of ideas and images for what you would do, but they are never fully realized. But then, the times comes where you get an AD to agree to giving you the chance. Then you get the rights. And then your stomach flips....now I have to do it. 

I've had that series of experiences this spring, when one of my long-time bucket list plays, 4.48 Psychosis by the enigmatic and irreconcilable genius, Sarah Kane, came my way. From my very first read of the play, I was captivated. On the surface, the play makes next to no sense; it feels like a long form collage poem of beautifully dark statements that challenge your sense of remaining light in the world, interspersed with scenes. Or are they scenes? There are no indications of the number of performers, the number of voices, the ages or genders. Just words. And thoughts. And somehow, it is hopeful. 

So, I embark upon my new Everest. I have an amazing team lined up. I'm directing for Theatre By The River, with the wonderful support of our company members and AD. I have the honour of working with the shining and adventurous young talent, Liz Whitbred on stage. And I get to return to audio collaboration with my partner in life and art, John Norman, who will help Liz and I transform her singular presence in space and time using sound. 

I'm unbelievably excited to direct what I hope will be my most radical experiment yet. Part play production, part sound installation, part poem. You can trust it will be something different, and I hope you'll come on the journey with us, both here on my blog (where you can expect updates, rants, and of course shameless self-promotion) and when we perform it in The Toronto Fringe Festival and Winnipeg Fringe Theatre Festival this July. 

Until then...

review. The Wedding Party by Kristen Thompson @ Crow's Theatre

It has taken me awhile to feel like I could write about this play. The Wedding Party is deliciously fun, tears in your eyes, gut-hurt funny. This isn't the reason it took me so long. In the days following my attendance at this hilarious, intelligent, beautifully written and expertly performed production, it felt as though the world was falling apart. Trump began a daily barrage of executive orders that upended what we think about human decency and caring for others. In the face of this, how could I reconcile a play that was by contrast, seemingly so light in subject and tone? 

It came to me the other night, however, on one of my late night dog-walks, seeing people come out of the theatre with huge smiles on their faces (I live upstairs of The Crowsnest). Seeing those faces of pure joy as they walked toward their cars or transit. Hearing them recalling favourite moments, that they'll "never look at a dog in the same way" or "windbreaker of lies" followed by shared laughter, it occurred to me that the point of this kind of play is to be a release. A release from the drudgery, the sadness, the despair. And it is so utterly necessary sometimes to just laugh. To laugh at the idiosyncrasies of an elderly grandmother, or a young boy, or hilarious twin brothers with opposing personalities. To laugh when we see ourselves, our own humanity in these people. 

This post is less about the production (which is fantastic, and I 100% recommend to anyone, anywhere) but rather about why this sort of play, which might feel frivolous in these times, is still important. We still need to laugh. To laugh is to remind us of our humanity. 

Also, seeing Tom Rooney in a scene with himself is something that everyone should experience. 

announcement. Autel @ FOOT Sounding The Inner Ear of Performance, University of Toronto

I'm extremely excited to share that my audio installation Autel has been selected to be a part of the annual Festival of Original Theatre (FOOT) at the University of Toronto's Drama Centre which runs Feb 2-5. This is the 25th anniversary of the conference, coinciding with the 50th anniversary of the Drama Centre @ U of T.

This year's theme is "Sounding The Inner Ear of Performance" so my Autel piece, which I first showed at RADA in London, and subsequently at the Gas Station Arts Centre in Winnipeg is a great fit. 

So much of my own directing and creative work has focused on the power of sound as an active character in the theatrical experience, and I am honoured to have my work included among these amazing thinkers and creators. 

For more about the conference (you can still register) check out their website. 

More about Autel:
Autel is a performance installation piece first shown at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London, March 2012, and subsequently shown at the Gas Station Arts Centre in Winnipeg from October to December 2012. It invites the viewer to experience their own ritual of identity, and examine this mask as they look at others, also performing a ritual of identity. The viewer should, after the experience, begin to question the authenticity of their own public identity, and those they encounter, along with the authenticity of the experiences they have for the remainder of the performances. What are they seeing? How are they responding? Are they responding in a specific way that they believe is correct, or that is for the benefit of others?

Inspired by the work of playwright Jean Genet and composed of a collage of his words and those of Antonin Artaud, Autel is an auditory experience which challenges social constructs of identity and the way we interact with art. 

review. The Watershed by Annabel Soutar @ Tarragon / Crow's / Porte Parole

As a lover of theatre, I have to admit that I have mixed feelings about verbatim plays. On one hand, I find they are an amazing way to explore contemporary and political stories that feels real and connected, unlike purely dramatic fiction which can come across as issue-based, single-sided, and staid. On the other hand, I struggle with issues of ethics in the story (eg: including the conversation where someone asked not to be included, or highlighting as a plot point the refusal of those with opposing opinions to participate). That said, I found Soutar's script to deftly avoid many of these potential roadblocks, to create a fast-paced and engaging story about something extremely important -- water. 

The performers of this re-mounted production were uniformly outstanding, most of whom played multiple tracks of parts with quick change timings that would make a stage manager faint. Juliet Fox's outstanding modular set demonstrated both utility, and an overwhelming sense of the fragility of our current situation portrayed through the play, by situating the actors on a set completely constructed of pallets. 

There were definitely bumpy moments for me, from a dramaturgical perspective, including the inclusion of former Prime Minister Harper as a character (though great comic relief) and quite a lot of same-idea pushing businesspeople and politicians -- I felt the script might have benefited from a tightening to focus on what I found the most compelling, the story of the 3 little girls. Hearing the interview questions asked of adults "just doing their job" from the mouths of intelligent young children was jarring, and demanded we pay attention to what and how we answer. An excellent production and script overall, I just felt that this broadening of scope potentially missed the opportunity to really hit home by asking us real and difficult questions. Most adults have been in that position -- where a young person you love and care for asks you a question about something that even you don't understand in the world. When this happens, we are compelled to answer and yet know that there are no words that can answer their unending "why". This was the power of The Watershed, in my opinion. Young voices asking WHY. 

The Watershed runs to Oct 30 at Tarragon in association with Crow's Theatre & Porte Parole.