Arts and Culture

June 2011: East Van Culture In the House

/ Lauren / Leave a comment

Music. Dance. Circus sorcery. Puppets. Beautiful East Van homes in the Commercial Drive area opening their doors to the public. Is this some eccentric real estate fantasy? No, it’s the return of the In the House Festival invading living rooms with its unique brand of community and magic in East Vancouver.

I have spent so much time lamenting over the hard knock life of those working in the arts that when Mads, an intern from the festival, asked me on Twitter if I would be interested in writing a piece about this year’s In the House Festival, I jumped at the chance to help promote a festival I have enjoyed in the past. I asked Mads if I might be able to ask a festival representative some questions for the post and was immediately put in touch with Myriam Steinberg, the Artistic Director of the In the House Festival, who has been involved with the festival since its inception in 2003. Myriam was so obliging and her answers so detailed I’ve included them here. [My questions are in bold, Myriam’s answers in italics]

The idea of an entire festival dedicated to bringing performers and audience into people’s homes is quite unique. What particular Vancouver cultural needs do you feel the In the House Festival addresses? There are a couple. Vancouver has a dearth of venues that are either financially accessible, or that are open to a variety of disciplines. It’s also difficult to find a venue where people will have focused attention on the performer. At In the House, we provide the space where the audience is 100% paying attention to the artists, the artists can do their thing, explore their genre, test out new material, interact directly with the audience and get paid more than the average “pass the hat” situation that they encounter in lots of bars and coffee shops. On a community level, In the House brings people together in intimate settings which create a trust and hopefully builds friendships and dispels stereotypes about neighbourhoods.

Photo credit: Diane Smithers

Are acts chosen for the festival based on the East Van homes available to the festival, or does the festival recruit homes based on the artist line-up already determined? We recruit homes based on the artist line-up primarily. Of course because some houses are smaller than others, we have to make sure that we don’t put the circus acts in a narrow living room, but instead put something like spoken word or other one person acts [in that space].


How does this year’s festival differ from years past? What are you particularly excited about this year? What have you learned from past years? This is the 2nd year where we’ve added a 3rd night to the festival. We’ve [therefore] been able to add four more shows to the line-up. This year, we are featuring a bunch of upcoming youth in amongst the seasoned performers. Travis Lim does a killer Michael Jackson. I’m really excited to see him perform. At age 9 he’s already won 13 medals for dance! The Whitridge Brothers (11 and 15 years old) are jazz musicians who are included in the already stellar line-up. I think it’s important to give a voice to kids who have amazing talent. Age is no marker for talent.

I’m excited to watch the Cabaret so Mignon (magic, bellydance, music, clowning), to learn how to swing dance in Swingin’ Times, and of course I’m always looking forward to the finale. This year it’s a Blues Circus.

I guess the most valuable lesson I have learned from organizing the festival is to plan and organize well ahead of time and to keep expanding the network that surrounds the scene. It is thrilling to see so much great talent out there, but also to see how many people are willing to help volunteer during these festive days.


Tell me about the performance spaces (the homes). Are audience members permitted to use the washrooms? Are many of the homes wheelchair accessible/can arrangements be made to accommodate an audience member with disabilities? Any other amenities offered by the spaces (food available to buy, etc.)? One of the most important parts about the shows is the fact that they are taking place inside people’s living rooms. It gives the shows an intimate and much more engaging atmosphere you would not find in a lot of other places. We do have port-a-potties available by Festival Central [Napier and Victoria] which we encourage festival goers to use, instead of the house washrooms, but of course people are generally allowed to use the washrooms of the houses during a show. However, they are not allowed to go explore the rest of the house outside the performance space and the bathroom. It’s really important to respect the privacy and safety of the homeowners who are so generously donating their space to a show. The backyards are generally wheelchair accessible, and about half the shows are in a backyard. Some of the houses are as well, but less so. We do have a ton of volunteers though who are available to help [or] we can also install a ramp if we have enough notice of someone in a wheelchair coming to a show. We certainly don’t want to exclude anyone from the In the House experience. In terms of food, there will be snacks and non-alcoholic drinks to buy, although we encourage people to use the “dinner hours” to explore the nice restaurants around Commercial Drive.  

If I were a Commercial-drive area home owner interested in opening my home to the festival, where could I go/who could I contact for more information? You can contact me, Myriam, at info@inthehousefestival.com or 604-874-9325. The website also has information about the shows we put on and what it means to open your home to a show.

How can artists apply for/submit their work for consideration for inclusion in In the House? They can email or mail me a demo of what they do. I prefer to hire performers from the Lower Mainland.

And finally: Do you have any important information/tips for audience members to make their In the House experience go as smoothly as possible? If you want a guaranteed seat, buy your tickets in advance. Shows tend to sell out. Also, if you’re buying your tickets on site or have a pass, get your tickets from the box office [Napier and Victoria] as early as possible. Seating is first come first served so if you want a good not squishy seat, get your place in line early.

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I am a big fan of the idea of meta-theatre, and the idea that the experience of a performance is not confined only to what is happening on the stage space. The concept of this festival suggests an openness of spirit on the part of performers and audience and a huge amount of trust on the part of those who have turned their homes into a venue for performance. Is this the kind of experience you wish to participate in/support? Check out the festival.

The 2011 In the House Festival runs June 3-5 in the Commercial Drive area.

To purchase tickets through PayPal, click here.

For schedule information and to learn more about the Festival’s performers, click here.

Thanks Mads and Myriam for giving me the opportunity to learn about and promote this special kind of East Vancouver culture. It sure beats the hell out of whining over the sorry state of the arts. 🙂

YA or the Highway: A tribute to Young Adult Fiction

/ Lauren / 1 Comment

Anyone perusing my bookshelf may wonder for a moment if perhaps I am twelve years old, instead of twice that. I couldn’t blame them. Excluding the Maraget Atwoods and Barbara Gowdys I’ve tucked into the corners, my bookcase is a proudly displayed and well-loved collection of young adult fiction (YA).

I used to try to justify my reluctance to move on to more adult fare to my parents. Now I don’t bother. Though I receive one or two great Canadian works of literature a year (my latest, Cool Water by Dianne Warren, was excellent) I think by now my mom and dad understand that my literary growth pretty much stopped in adolescence (by choice and not by intellect).

I do not shy away from the real world or from being informed about adult issues (I read my Macleans cover to cover every week!). But the reading I undertake in my leisure time should be just that: leisure. I don’t want to be depressed or feel guilty about something horrible happening somewhere. I’d rather read about people with magical powers.

I think my feelings regarding “adult” literature (by “adult” I mean adults read it, I don’t mean erotica) were shaped early on by the books my mother would order from the Northwest Regional Library in Saskatchewan. They were all very good books. By good I mean they were thematically interesting and deftly crafted works of literature. However, I began to notice a pattern in the books I was reading. Eventually, whenever my mom recommended a book to me I would start by asking my now-standard question:

“Are there any suicides or pedophiles in this one?”

And my mom would say, “Well….sort of.” This led me to believe that literature written for adults is a never ending parade of misery and misplaced sexual feeling. This is a broad generalization, sure, but if you take a look at most lauded Canadian literature you’ll see I’m not too far off the mark.

Back to YA: not only does it provide me with a more pleasurable reading experience, it is often plain old better than many adult books I’ve read. Why? Because issues surrounding sexuality and violence, that are sometimes carelessly and artlessly written into adult fiction, require a more delicate hand in fiction for younger readers. This subtle allusion to the darkness that lurks beneath those last years of innocence is more profound to me than in-your-face sex and violence (the adult fiction I prefer is also of the more subtle variety).

And then, of course, there’s the magic. In my regular life, I have had to accept that no amount of feathers attached to my clothing will make me fly, and that the ghost I thought I saw in grade 3 was likely the product of spooky stories, darkness, and the company of my hyperactive friends (the mob mentality strikes again). I’ve lost all my baby teeth and the Easter Bunny stopped visiting. I accept the laws of physics and the legal and societal rules we all live by. I have a content and productive life.

Would I rather be a wizard? YES.

Good YA fantasy writers are my heroes. In order to create the worlds that make their books so enjoyable, they must understand them intimately. This involves a commitment to being an adult mentally living in a fantasy land. How awesome is that? Very. Any adult who can keep the spark of childlike wonder and imagination not only alive but robust is my kind of adult. Their books feed my need for a little bit of whimsy while I wait for my letter from Hogwarts to arrive.

So what ARE these YA books I love so much? I’ve compiled a list of my favourites from my collection:

  • The Abhorsen Trilogy (Sabriel, Lirael, and Abhorsen) by Garth Nix         [Necromancers, the stages of death, Charter Magic, a talking cat]
  • The His Dark Materials Trilogy (The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass) by Phillip Pullman         [Science, religion, parallel worlds, daemons, loss of innocence–Don’t see the film]
  • The Wind On Fire Trilogy (The Windsinger, Slaves of the Mastery, and Firesong) by William Nicholson         [Politics, i.e. how different political systems attempt to ensure fairness and happiness, magic, family, sacrifice]
  • The Emily Books (Emily of New Moon, Emily Climbs, and Emily’s Quest) by L.M. Montgomery         [Must-reads for any little girls who want to write, way less saccharine do-gooding than Anne of Green Gables]
  • The Blue Castle by L. M. Montgomery        [An ignored and repressed underdog gets hers against her stupid family. Woot!]
  • Painted Devil by Michael Bedard         [Scariest book I read in childhood. Puppets, spine-tingling descriptions of everything from a doll’s tea party to wallpaper, a neat history of the Punch & Judy tradition]

If anyone has read any of the above books, or has any tips for other great YA you think I’d enjoy, I’d love to hear from you in the comments section. In the meantime, I’ve got a brand-new hardcover copy of The Selected Works of T. S. Spivet by Reif Larsen waiting for me. Oh. My. Stars. This is going to be epic.

Happy reading!

Simple and Effective: “Jake’s Gift” at Pacific Theatre

/ Lauren / Leave a comment

I must confess I haven’t though much about Canada’s World War II veterans lately. When I do, I usually envision navy blazers, berets, senior citizens, and excruciatingly rhythmic elementary school recitations (“In FLANders FIELDS the POPpies BLOW…”). These thoughts aren’t really in my consciousness until November each year.

I don’t usually imagine a ten-year-old girl in Normandy, striking up a friendship with a curmudgeonly Canadian veteran who has travelled to France for the 60th anniversary of D-Day.

This is the premise of “Jake’s Gift”, a one-woman show created and performed by Julia Mackey. “Jake’s Gift” is playing at Pacific Theatre Wednesday to Saturday evenings (with a matinee Saturday) until April 16.

From an “acting technique” standpoint, Mackey is a delight to watch. What is interesting to me is that the character of Jake was originally discovered and developed by Mackey during an intensive Mask Characterization workshop offered by Pacific Theatre in 2002. Having experienced some mask training in my own BFA, it was exciting to see the possibilities for character and narration that can be found and shaped through this kind of work.

I have watched many one-person shows where much of the narrative is delivered through monologues, with the actor playing one or more characters. Mackey chose to manifest most of the story through dialogue, sometimes with up to three characters, switching from one character to another instantaneously. With such fast transformations, many actors would be tempted to rely on a prop or costume piece (i.e. hat vs. no hat, etc.) to indicate to the audience which character is speaking. Mackey did not need to do this. Posture, voice, inner rhythm, even the lines of Mackey’s face seemed to change depending on who was speaking. It was as if her body and face were a hand upon which Mackey could place any puppet. I did not need a costume change to tell me who was who. I saw each character (ten-year-old Isabel, her grandmother, the old veteran Jake): familiar, recognizable, and clear as day.

The exchange between Isabel and Jake is so good-hearted and amusing, and Isabel’s high spirits are so infectious, you are caught off guard by the expression of the loss that lives in the hearts of those affected by war. I, like many others born in Canada, am familiar with the story of the Second World War and our veterans’ contribution to the Allies’ victory. I am fortunately not familiar with the loss of a loved one, nor with the idea of deliberately putting my own life in danger.

Many performances involving the stories of Canada’s veterans (especially those performed in schools, as “Jake’s Gift” has been many times), stray into the dangerous area of sentimentality; superficially tugging at our heart strings but keeping us ultimately and comfortably disconnected from the subject matter. The story of Jake and Isabel is told so frankly, and so matter-of-factly, that I could not avoid being affected by it.

The long and the short of it is that whether they enlisted for king and country, or for “hot meals, a trip to Europe and a shiny pair of boots” as Jake did, many young people placed themselves in harm’s way, and many did not return. Families in Canada were left without a sibling, a parent, or a child. This part of our history as Canadians and it hasn’t felt so true or close to me in a long time.

Another loss addressed in “Jake’s Gift” is the loss of the WWII veterans themselves. As they grow older (and sadly begin to pass away), we lose the living connection to an important part of our history. In a memorable and lonely moment on the stage, Jake dons his navy blazer and Legion beret with trembling fingers, straightening up for a moment to salute like the hearty young soldier he once was. When watching, I did not see Mackey onstage, or even the character Jake. I saw my grandfather. I saw the men and women of the Legion in my home town in Saskatchewan, a generation of Canadians whose pride and strength and incredible sacrifice has been forced to yield to age and the passage of time.

The story Julia Mackey has created with “Jake’s Gift” is simple and accessible, short and sweet. It is neither for nor against war. The story just is, and its lack of complication did not diminish the experience for me. Mackey’s investment in the piece as a creator, an actor, and a person, is evident. To me, “Jake’s Gift” has a bittersweet spirit that serves as a gentle reminder that November is not the only time of year to remember the sacrifices of others, and to, as always, respect our elders, who have experienced moments in their lives we will hopefully never have to know.

“Jake’s Gift” runs until April 16 at Pacific Theatre. Tickets can be obtained at the Pacific Theatre Box Office through visiting their website or calling 604-731-5518. For more information about the play itself, “Jake’s Gift” has its own website, www.jakesgift.com.

Once again, I was able to attend “Jake’s Gift” through the generosity of the lovely Lois Dawson, author of the excellent Vancouver theatre blog, Lois Backstage. Thanks Lois!

One Electric Ride: “Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train”

/ Lauren / 2 Comments

Glass City Theatre‘s production of “Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train” at Pacific Theatre is not for the faint of heart. It is not for those of us whose enjoyment and appreciation of a show requires a happy ending. It is not for those of us who are comfortable in our assessment of the way the world and people work and do not want to be challenged. It is for those of us who are interested in a solid, uncompromising script, difficult themes, and unapologetic performances.

The play, written by Stephen Adly Guirgis and directed by Angela Konrad, takes place on Rikers Island, New York, where two men, one a convicted serial killer, the other on trial for a murder he doesn’t think was a crime, spend their days in solitary confinement. For one hour each day they are brought outside to  separate cages to spend some time in the fresh air. Sometimes friends, sometimes enemies, the meat of this play can be found in the conversation and complicated relationship that builds between these two prisoners during their time together at Rikers. This particular production also boasts a simple, effective, and altogether stunning set and lighting design by Itai Erdal.

Not having been raised in a religious household, I occasionally find myself nervous when I attend performances at Pacific Theatre. I sometimes worry that perhaps the spiritual mandate of the company (which operates on the property of the Holy Trinity Anglican Church) will result in productions that exclude a non-religious viewer (like myself) or otherwise prevent my enjoyment of the work. So far this has not happened. Yes, religion is a central theme of the play. Lucius, the convicted serial killer, believes he has found God and tries to convince Angel, who is still pleading innocent for the murder of a cult leader, to do the same.

This plot could have easily alienated a viewer like me, but it did not. The strength of the script lies in its forever altering lines between black and white, right and wrong. Upon first appearance,  Lucius is presented as a sympathetic character, even though we know he has murdered eight people. Angel is also presented as sympathetic, a victim of circumstances. And yet, as much as we begin to like these men, as much as one has found God and the other’s lawyer insists that he is innocent, the fact we must always contend with is that both have taken human life. Is there ever a good and moral reason to do so? Is an unspeakably horrible upbringing an excuse to cause so much pain to victims and their families? Can you ever reach a place, after you have done something wrong, where you can make it right and be forgiven, whether it be by God, or by society, or by yourself? Even if a jury were to find you innocent, if you have broken your own personal laws of right and wrong, what then?

While the entire cast is strong, Carl Kennedy (Lucius) and Robert Olguin (Angel) are electric together. There is such an overwhelming energy onstage it verges constantly on either giddiness or violence. The script can be very funny. And there is violence. But it is not the characters’ actions that are violent (they are prisoners), it is their words and their lives that are violent. I found myself on teetering on the edge of tears during the second act (I was not the only one), not because the acting or directing was “milking” a reaction out of me but because I simply couldn’t bear the strain of watching the struggle to make right out of something so horribly horribly wrong.

The play is a struggle.  The characters struggle. Heroes, villains–everyone is both. “Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train” shows us a world where nothing is completely saved, and yet, nothing is completely lost either. Much like ours. A constant struggle to find the right. What is the answer? I don’t know. Struggle struggle struggle.

I appreciate leaving the theatre with more questions than I had when I walked in. I appreciate the occasional challenge to my own moral compass, and the opportunity to put myself in the shoes of a person whose eyes I will hopefully never see through.

“Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train” runs until April 2 at Pacific Theatre. Tickets can be obtained at the Pacific Theatre Box Office through visiting their website or calling 604-731-5518.

Final notes: I received a comp ticket from the good-hearted Lois Dawson,  all-around Super Vancouver Theatre Woman and author of the theatre blog Lois Backstage. She gave me a comp because she’s awesome. I was not asked by Pacific Theatre or Glass City Theatre to write a review of this production.

“Making art for free” – I’m opening that can of worms

/ Lauren / 5 Comments

An interesting gentleman I recently met at a party leaned over a kitchen counter at me and slurred something to the effect of, “Every artist is exploited for their passions.” He continued on after this point but as he was drunk and getting a little incoherent I don’t recall the rest. The gist of his argument seemed to be that because everyone knows that artists love to do what we do (be that music, theatre, dance, visual art, photography, etc.), we are expected to do this for little or nothing.

I couldn’t agree with him more. All of the theatre I have been involved in since finishing my BFA has involved little, but more often non-existent, compensation.  I entered into the work fully aware that nobody was being paid. I did it because I respect and enjoy the people I work with, and because if I didn’t take the time to be an artist sometimes, my soul would start to die.

There is a very prevalent though very misguided attitude surrounding the idea of payment in the arts community. People seem to believe that because artists enjoy their craft, they don’t require the same kind of compensation they would if they were doing a job they hated. I would like to make something very clear:

Enjoyment DOES NOT EQUAL easy. Enjoyment DOES NOT EQUAL lack of time or skill. Any good piece of art involves time (during a theatre production, for example, usually 20-50 hours a week on top of a full or part time job) and skill (most of the artists I know have either a university degree and/or extensive studio training, which they supplement with workshops). In a regular working environment, this time, training, and skill would be compensated.

Making art also requires an emotional and often physical investment not found in other jobs. Making art is not an activity in which you can “coast” (i.e. writing that report for your boss while you flick through photos of last weekend on Facebook or watch a funny cat video). Coasting results in shallow, if not plain old shitty, art. An artist is required to be emotionally, mentally, and physically present in their work. I enjoy everything I do involving the theatre but maintaining this focus isn’t easy. Sometimes I’m ill but I have to be on my feet for a two-hour run before I can sit down again. I’m exhausted sometimes but I’m staying at rehearsal late into the night, knowing I am going to be waking up at 6:30 to go to work and THEN I’ll be going to rehearsal all over again. Sometimes the work scares me or makes me so angry that I hate it and hate everyone involved and hate myself but we get through it and we make some art.

And then I am told by the prevalent public opinion that I don’t need to be paid because I’m having so much fun!

What can be done? I’m not sure. The other night I met some (relatively) new theatre friends for drinks in the Backstage Lounge (the lovely bar behind the Arts Club’s Granville Island Stage). The conversation, while passionate and animated, was rather disheartening at times. No, we (and I mean “we” in a broader sense than just those present) shouldn’t all be doing what we’re doing for little or no money. Yes, anyone working this hard should be appropriately compensated.

But I’m going to let you in on the not-so-secret dirty little secret of the art world. There’s. No. Money. Not for me, not for you, not for the many and varied brilliant performers, musicians, visual artists, writers, dancers, stage managers, designers, composers, producers, dramaturgs, and wandering minstrels in this city, this province, or this country. Working in the arts is a Catch-22 of survival:

1. I cannot survive without money. I need to eat, I need a home, I need to be able to clothe myself and have a telephone. Without money I am starving and I am cold.

2. I cannot survive without creating art. I need passion, I need ambition, I need goals to work towards, I need my inner fires to be fueled and my inner children to be nurtured. Without creating art my spirit is starving and my heart is cold.

If I use my time to work at a job that pays I have money, but no art. If I use my time to create art, I have art, but no money. I get by by straddling these two worlds. Monday to Friday, I work a job I like that pays me well. When I’m involved in a project, I spend my evenings and weekends on it. My system is working for me right now and I feel fortunate to be able to do this.

This is not sustainable, however. The older I get the more demands there will be on my time. This is not a system that can work for me if I ever have a family, if I am ever less healthy than I am now, or if a loved one is ever in need of my care. I also might simply burn out.

In fact, most of us are in danger of burning out, simply because there just isn’t enough money out there for all of us to get work in the arts that pays, and there’s only so long many of us can keep going without any hope of eventually being paid to do this.

I am aware that by agreeing to work for free, I add to the problem. As long as there are artists willing to work for free, there will be artists working for free. There will also be people who expect artists to work for free.

I hope that this situation will not last forever. I hope that the time and hard work put in by artists everywhere will eventually receive respect and provide them with the means to earn a living. Achieving this utopia would be complicated and take time. Government, artists, and audiences would need to be involved in supporting arts and culture and those who sacrifice so much for them.

In the meantime, I think it is up to every artist to decide what they can and cannot do. My system works for me. Other artists have theirs. I am engaged in an ongoing struggle with myself and I am always reassessing my relationship with work, money, and art and hoping I will find a way to reconcile them.

SFU Woodwards presents “The Alice” and “Black Box 2011”

/ Lauren / Leave a comment

Let me begin by saying that I will not be reviewing shows at my alma mater, the School for Contemporary Arts at SFU. I will, however, shamelessly plug them on the internet before I watch them.

A lot of changes have occurred since I began at SFU in 2005. My first SFU acting instructor, Marc Diamond, sadly passed away that fall while writing his Alice play. I’ve graduated with my BFA (and lost some of my enthusiasm to the need to not be poor, sadly) and SFU Contemporary Arts has moved from the leaky-roofed old facilities on Burnaby Mountain and into the shiny new Woodwards complex on Hastings Street. Cosmetically, the new SFU theatre spaces are unrecognizable compared to the old SFU Mainstage and its hillbilly little cousin, Studio II.

In spite of the new facilities and the new faces gracing SFU’s stages today, Marc’s Alice play, and his beloved partner Penelope Stella’s commitment to realizing it onstage, has remained. Until March 5, “The Alice: A play by Marc Diamond” is being presented in the Fei and Milton Wong Experimental Theatre as SFU’s Spring 2011 Theatre Mainstage production.

(Sources from the inside have reported that during rehearsals the running time for “The Alice” was approximately four hours so be prepared to lengthen your attention span.)

Tickets to “The Alice” are very affordable at $10 for Students/Seniors and $15 General Admission. Please note that there are no performances on February 27 or 28.

In addition to its Mainstage production, SFU Theatre is also presenting its 2011 Black Box season this spring. Blackbox is an SFU theatre course in which an ensemble of students create, rehearse, and produce a new show every few weeks of the spring semester. It is an exercise in creativity, experimentation, and sheer endurance. Generally, when I see a season of SFU’s Black Box, I see things that disturb me, make me laugh, inspire me, and sometimes just make me go, “Huh.”

SFU’s Black Box season is the perfect taster for those new to SFU Theatre. The performances are short, free, and go well with whatever else you’ve got planned that evening (drinks afterwords at one of several nearby Gastown pubs, for example). Show 2 of Black Box 2011 is based on the theme of “Community” and runs Friday, February 25 at 7:00 and 9:00, and Saturday, February 26 at 7:00 and 9:00 in SFU Woodward’s Studio T.

If you can’t make it this time round, don’t worry, there will be more shows this season.

SFU’s School for the Contemporary Arts has been hidden for far too long atop Burnaby Mountain. They have made the effort to move downtown and join the Vancouver artistic community. If you are curious about the innovative work being created and performed by tomorrow’s contemporary artists, may I humbly suggest that you visit their brand spanking new campus and see what all the fuss is about.

PuSh 2011: “Peter Panties” at the Cultch

/ Lauren / 2 Comments

I’ve been a Peter Pan devotee all my life. I’ve seen the musical, own the Disney film as well as a live-action one, I cry every time I read the book. It makes sense, therefore, that I was very jazzed to be wrapping up my 2011 PuSh Festival experience with “Peter Panties” at the Cultch on Saturday. “Peter Panties”, written by Niall McNeil with Marcus Youssef, is a Neworld Theatre and Leaky Heaven Circus co-production, directed by Steven Hill and Lois Anderson, with original music by the fabulous Veda Hille. It will be performed on the Cultch’s Historic Theatre stage until February 13.

Before the show I ran into Marcus Youssef in the lobby. I’d met him very briefly last spring after “Ali & Ali 7” so I reintroduced myself and expressed my enthusiasm for attending a Peter Pan-based play. Youssef was glad I was excited but warned me that “Peter Panties” would be an almost unrecognizable version of the story.

I appreciate the warning but I think Youssef is wrong. No, J.M. Barrie’s classic tale of the boy who refuses to grow up does not traditionally include rock ballads, CSI investigations, or Macbeth. But any die-hard Peter Pan fans in the audience would immediately recognize all the important landmarks of the story: the nursery window, Mr. Darling’s job at the bank, Skull rock, Tinkerbell’s jealousy, Hook’s abduction of Wendy, the crushingly sweet moment before innocence is lost. These landmarks may not be “in order”, they may be expanded and exploded, but they are all there. Like the Never Land, anyone who truly understands and loves the story of Peter Pan can find it in McNeil’s version.

The playwright, Niall McNeil, has Down’s Syndrome. This fact is not hidden nor overly advertised. Video footage of McNeil and Youssef’s writing process (shown at various moments in the piece) reveals a deep commitment to expressing McNeil’s version of the play. Nothing I saw or heard that evening seemed cleaned up  or doctored in any way. And the result is totally unpredictable but very funny and always beautiful.

Watching the piece feels like watching children at play. Certain scenes seem distracted. Certain scenes are confusing. Characters move from snippets of this and that, certain lines sound like something a child overheard at the table or on TV. Like a children’s game, the characters are moved by their own strange logic, unfathomable to observers but incredibly important to those in the game. It’s funny for us but deadly deadly serious for them.

The piece puts the “panties” in “Peter Panties” by  moving beyond the simple idea of the boy who won’t grow up to the notion of the way children think about sexuality. They are curious about it, and Peter and Wendy (played by James Long and Sasa Brown) demonstrate a very clean but inventive way to make a family, but sex is not understood in this play, or seen. To understand sex Peter would have to grow up. And in “Peter Panties” it’s not simply that he won’t, it seems he can’t.

Given the constant exploration of the tension that exists in the middle ground between childhood and being an adult,  “Peter Panties” is more true to the original and beloved tale than people realize, or perhaps more than they’re willing to admit. As a worshiper of the J.M. Barrie text, I have no problem adding “Peter Panties” to the shrine.

Props also go to the Bank Dogs and Veda Hille. If there are copies of the “Peter Panties” soundtrack out there I’d love to get my hands on one…any song that dismisses the idea of growing up with the line “F— that, NO MUSTACHE” is my kind of music.

To read more about “Peter Panties”, I recommend checking out Plank Magazine‘s review by Maryse Zeidler as well as Colin Thomas’s review in the Georgia Straight.

If my stellar blogging has managed to convince you to see the show, “Peter Panties” runs at the Cultch until February 13. Tickets can be purchased online from the Cultch or by telephone through the Cultch’s box office at 604-251-1363.

PuSh 2011 – “Floating” at the Arts Club Revue Stage

/ Lauren / 1 Comment

On Thursday I decided to put the “international” in the PuSh International Performing Art Festival and take in Welshman Hugh Hughes‘ fantastical theatrical event, “Floating“. “Floating” is produced by Hoipolloi, created and performed by Hugh Hughes and Sioned Rowlands, and presented at the Arts Club New Revue Stage January 20 – February 5.

Using slides, flashcards, flip charts, video, magazines, and other helpful props and pieces of furniture, Hughes and Rowlands tell the not-so-true story of Hughes’s homeland, the Isle of Anglesey, breaking away from the Welsh mainland and going adrift in the Atlantic. The set itself consists mainly of the aforementioned props and visual aides, creating an effect not unlike the way a very large supply closet in a community centre might look.

I believe a hoity-toity description of the night I had would be “meta-theatrical”, in that I never once forgot myself. I did not transcend. I was not “swept away in the magic”. Hughes stressed time and again (using a laminated sign he kept in his pocket) the importance of making a connection with us, and the importance of our decision to come to his show. I suppose it would be hard to truly connect to an audience, as individual people, as members of a group, if our emotions were usurped, if we were stolen away to other lands the way I often am at the cinema or at a different kind of show. Hughes and Rowlands talked to us, gave us props to hold and to pass around, noticed what was happening in the audience (and remarked upon it) and never once forgot we were there, or resided in a stage world that did not include us.

We were included to such an extent that after I was not chosen as the lucky audience member to get to use the “clicker box” to keep track of the story’s episodes, I was invited, in the middle of the show, to help Rowlands clean up the water that had been splashed onstage. I thought I was just being humoured because I’d missed out on holding the clicker box so I said (stupidly), “For real?” and Rowlands replied, “Well, if you come up here it will be real.” So I did. The opportunity to be that much more involved with the show was too good to pass up. I took a towel and helped mop up the stage. When I was done I gave a self-conscious little bow, hopped back down to my seat, and the story continued. It pretty much made my night.

The show is clunky, inviting, funny, generous and enchanting (in a very unmagical, “I can see the strings you’re pulling” sort of way). Yes, the story is a fantasy. Yes, the open structure and the acknowledgment of the audience is good-humoured and gracious and made us all feel warm and fuzzy. I got the sense however that lurking underneath this mythologized episode of Hughes’ life is something very true, and incredibly sad, if only we could stop laughing long enough to realize it.

The "harness of oranges"

While I enjoyed the show, and I enjoy the Arts Club as a venue, I do not feel that “Floating” was best served by being presented at the Arts Club Revue Stage. “Floating” is an incredibly intimate and incredibly open piece. The friendly and flexible nature of Hughes and Rowlands is what makes it work. It is not glossy. There are no thousand dollar set pieces or period costuming. I would have loved to see this show in an elementary school basement, or somebody’s garage, or in my living room. I feel this would have been more appropriate to the spirit of the piece, and actually would have enabled me to reach an even higher level of engagement.

There are certain things one expects when they pay $40 to see a show, and certain things one expects when they see a show at the Arts Club. One expects that money has been spent on high-tech effects (like in the Electric Company’s “Tear the Curtain!”), or on a celebrity appearance (like Eric McCormack’s role in “Glengarry Glen Ross”). These productions are impressive and worth every penny but they are distanced from the audience. Another world is being created “onstage” and we are “in our seats” and that is that.

“Floating” asks us to break down that fourth wall and be with Hughes and Rowlands, at heart if not physically, and it is hard to do that when you’re sitting in a structured audience space, feeling a little miffed that you paid $40 for a seat with sight-line issues. On Thursday I also found myself in an audience who did not seem to be, based on the lobby conversation I overheard, “kindred spirits” in terms of the art they enjoy (compared to what I find engaging) and I felt that some of the laughter during “Floating” was patronizing amusement (“Tee hee, what a funny Welshman. What IS he doing?”) rather than actual pleasure. This barred me from the sad truth that I felt was in the piece somewhere, that I wanted so desperately to find, and I believe this kept the audience from being able to make the true connection Hughes tries to emphasize with his work.

I also think that the audience that would be most appreciative of a special piece like “Floating” are those who are turned off by “fancy” theatre and special effects and just want to be in a room with a performance. This type of audience is the least likely to realize that there is a show they should see at the Arts Club, and probably less likely to be able to afford a $40 ticket.

I am not trying to denigrate the Arts Club (or its subscribing audience) in any way. I have seen very good work on the Arts Club stages (“The Black Rider”, “Tear the Curtain!”, “The 39 Steps” to name a few). But these are special treats for me. I choose each show carefully and have always been rewarded by high-tech wizardry, elaborate sets, great music and/or almost impossible physicality. I understand where the extra money goes (to put it in perspective I seldom pay more than $20 for a ticket to anything at any other venue–there were meant to be $25 tickets for this show but those were no longer available when I bought mine). I attend Arts Club productions I am very interested in when I can afford it and I have never been sorry. I am afraid, however, that the choice of venue (and the ticket price that goes with it) for this particular show will keep away the audience that would have appreciated it most of all.

Which is one of the reasons I felt it was important to write this review. For those of you who don’t frequent Arts Club productions, now is the time. Do not be put off by the fancy lobby or the ticket price. Go see “Floating”. It’s the type of art I’ve always wanted to make. It’s the type of art you should see at least once. You have until February 5.

“Skin” at the Vancouver South African Film Festival

/ Lauren / 2 Comments

On Saturday, my friend (and social media spirit guide) Raul Pacheco-Vega invited me to be his “+1” at the opening gala of the first-ever Vancouver South African Film Festival (VSAFF), and Vancouver’s first screening of the South African film “Skin“, directed by Anthony Fabian.

Obviously, I said yes (Thank you Raul!). When I arrived it seemed I would require a media pass to get in without a ticket (Raul had his own media pass) so the helpful VSAFF staff gave me one to use. The first one said “Colin” which I thought was great but it was nevertheless changed for the more gender appropriate “Basya”. Basya is a nifty name.

Attending the opening night of anything is always very exciting because it usually gives you the opportunity to learn more about the event. The more I learned about the VSAFF the more inspired I was. The VSAFF is a completely volunteer-driven event. All proceeds of the VSAFF went to the Canadian non-profit organization, Education Without Borders. EwB is an organization dedicated to providing educational opportunities, resources, and facilities in poorer communities of the world, primarily in South Africa. Not one VSAFF organizer or volunteer received a salary or stipend of any kind for the tremendous work they put into this two-day festival.

I enjoyed the film “Skin” in that it moved me, never bored me, and had unexpected moments of humour. For the most part the film is a struggle. “Skin” tells the true story of Sandra Laing, a daughter of white Afrikaners, who distinctly appears to be black. Her parents’ fight to have her classified as a white person (so that she will have access to the education, facilities, and rights the rest of her family enjoys), and Sandra’s own fight to be reclassified as black after having children with a black man (an illegal act for a white woman) is both tragic and riveting.

Aside from the beautiful cinematography and an amazing performance by the award-winning (and Oscar nominated) Sophie Okonedo (who plays Sandra), what struck me most about the film was how arbitrary apartheid society appeared. I knew about apartheid of course, the way I know about genocide in Rwanda and the war in former Yugoslavia but other than condemning it in my mind as an unjust thing I never really thought about it. Certainly it never occurred to me to describe it as “arbitrary”. But it was.

Sandra Laing is one person. The same person, from the beginning of her life right through to the end of the film. And yet, the way she was treated, and the world she could inhabit, depended entirely on whether she was considered to be a black person because she looked black, or a white person because her parents were white. What she could learn, where she could live, who she could love, all of this was determined by skin. Okonedo portrayed Sandra Laing with an almost unbearable shyness, as a person acutely uncomfortable in her own body, which, of course, you might be if you belonged not to one world or another but lived in the dangerous and lonely ground between.

With such an arbitrary and unjust system governing the lives of South African people, it is no wonder that so many of the characters in “Skin” developed strains of hardness, ignorance, and violence. Sandra herself, while always a sympathetic character, was forced to become hard and strong under the weight of the sorrow in her life. No character in the film was wholly good or wholly bad. Instead of hating Sandra’s father for his increasing pigheadedness and cruelty, I felt sorry for him and hated instead a situation that would force a loving father to become a slave to his pride and an enemy to his daughter. I respect a film that, while all about the differences between “black” and “white”, chose to reside in shades of grey rather than pass judgment on its characters.

I am delighted to report that the VSAFF had a full house for its opening night, and that there was wine, food, and Amarula a-plenty in the lobby for its guests. I believe the organizers were pleasantly surprised by the support from their community (according to their website, the VSAFF raised $14 000 for EwB!). I sincerely hope this festival returns next year. Not only do I relish chances to be exposed to art and culture outside the North American mainstream, but the enthusiasm of the organizers and their selfless mission of awareness and education was inspiring to witness.

PuSh Fest 2011: Neworld Theatre’s “PodPlays”

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The setting is Vancouver. The characters are the voices in your ear, and you, alone with your thoughts and your city. You and your fellow audience member(s) are made both identifiably together, and incredibly separate, by the headphones you’re wearing and the mp3 players in your hands.

You’re attending “PodPlays – The Quartet”, an aural theatrical experience offered by Neworld Theatre as part of this year’s PuSh International Performing Arts Festival. The 70-minute walking tour of Vancouver is accompanied by the voices and music you hear as you listen to the the PodPlay score on an mp3 player. The helpful Neworld representatives will give you a map before you head out but you’ll hardly need it since the PodPlay track will tell you where to go and when.

I was able to attend a preview of PodPlays on Sunday, January 16. It did not rain on me.

The show itself consists of four separate pieces, thematically bound together by Vancouver itself. I enjoyed some pieces more than others, though I think this had more to do with my subjective preference for certain themes and styles than any difference in the “goodness” of the pieces. One story in particular did arrest me, stop my breath for a moment, and make me fight back tears as it pulled me through Gastown, guided by those bodiless voices. The whole 70 min of walking really came down to a few exquisitely painful or beautiful moments like that one.

I have been living in the Lower Mainland since 2005, and in Vancouver proper since last spring. Podplays showed me parts of Vancouver I had never seen before, and even things I have seen hundreds of times over became new– illuminated and imbued with meaning by the stories in my ears. It helped that the sun was just breaking through after a rain: everything was wet and glistened like it had just been made (and all for me!) and the grey old world, just for 70 min, was unbearably bright. I fell in love with Vancouver all over again.

More than just being directed to passively listen to the pieces as presented and follow the PodPlay directions, I felt the show was an invitation to indulge in my own thoughts and memories of Vancouver. An invitation to remember, for the rest of the time that I live here (and any time I visit should I ever choose to leave), that every piece of Vancouver that I have ever walked in has its story: the people who’ve walked here before, the buildings that used to be here before the ones that are here now, the forest that stood before that, and my story, only five year’s worth but no less important to me than any other.

I’m sure not everyone will have the same experience I did, though rain or shine you’ll certainly have an experience. The best way to find out what it will be for you is to go.

Go to PodPlays!

PodPlays run Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, noon – 4 p.m., January 21 to February 6. To book tickets call 604-602-0007 or e-mail podplays@neworldtheatre.com.

Neworld’s website has a description of each of the four pieces and more information about the show. I invite you to click here.

Things to remember if you are going to see PodPlays:

Call ahead to book a departure time. You may use your own mp3 player and headphones but if you do you will need to be e-mailed the sound file. If you want to use Neworld’s mp3 players and headphones, make sure they are available for the departure time you want.

PodPlays involves 70-minutes of walking, including stairs. If you have any concerns regarding this, I recommend contacting Neworld. Most of this walking takes place outside so check the weather forecast and bring an umbrella (unless you’re one of those hard core Vancouverites who don’t believe in umbrellas).

Full disclosure: I was able to see a preview of PodPlays because I will be volunteering as a route monitor for this Sunday’s performances. I was not asked or paid to blog about PodPlays, and I’m pretty sure no one at Neworld even knows that I have a blog.

If you do see “PodPlays – The Quartet” I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment about which pieces you enjoyed the most (and why) or drop me a line at twitter.com/niftynotcool.