Ottawa Tonite.com : Section Title
- In a slam, teams compete in four rounds.
- After a poet presents a piece during a round, the audience judges jot down a score between 0 and 10, using one decimal place.
- There’s no time to chew over your score. The host will demand to see the judges’ decisions right away, so you need to write down a score while the audience applauds the poet.
- Your scores are read out by the host, and recorded. And so it goes, poet after poet, round after round.
- At the end of the slam, the judges’ total scores determine the winning team.
- “Friends: joy is our birthright” (Elyse Maltin)
- “I B who I B ‘cuz only I can define my I D” (Dana ‘I D’ Matthews)
- “I wear my heart on my sleeve but I have this bad habit of losing my shirt” (Frankin ‘Wordzworthe’ Davis)
- “I will not remit these weapons ‘cuz I need to make it out safely” (David Delisca)
- “This essay is my desire to quote you so our conversations will be remembered… my educators of consequence were artists” (Fraser)
- “You are lightning. Be just as deadly.” (Kiki)
- “FOB? FOB?!? Nobody uses boats nowadays, motherf#$ker!” (Joshua Bartolomé)
- “I don’t teach subjects. I teach students… I teach body odor and boners and pants put on backwards by accident” (Tyler Perry)
- “Bodies dipped in red liquid like french fries” (Synonymous)
- “We are coming to know how to write poems in the final days of an empire” (Hodan Ibrahim)
- “The hands of my uncles that mop and sweep hold the keys to every room on Wall Street” (Hyfidelik)
Posts Tagged ‘Kris Joseph’
Navigating the Undercurrents: an interview with Pat Gauthier (part 4)
With the undercurrents festival ending its successful inaugural run, Pat Gauthier probably has a chance to sit down, put his feet up, and relax for a while, right? Maybe not. . .
So what else? That’s not the end of Pat Gauthier. What else have you got planned for the next little while?
I’m directing The Crucible, which is the GCTC Lawyer’s Play, which is really fun. You don’t get to direct plays like The Crucible when you’re my age, and not in school, and not in community theatre. You don’t get to direct The Crucible. It has a cast of twenty-five. But the Lawyer’s Play is great because it’s a fundraiser and the lawyers all act for free. They get professional directors, designers, stage managers. . . we’re all professionals, we’re all being paid, great. I get to work on a play that I love, and would not get to do under any other circumstance. It’s a fun thing to do. The money raised goes to GCTC and a partner charity, so it’s a nice community thing. And they’re fun to work with. Lawyers are fun to work with.
What’s that like?
It’s interesting. There’s different dynamics, because you have people who’ve done it for years and years and years with the Lawyer’s Play, and some of them had acting backgrounds; they’d acted in university. A couple of them have BFAs in Acting, because they did it, they tried it—
Acting’s not that different from. . .
Well, exactly. They took their BFAs and did their Acting undergrad and then either decided at the end that they didn’t want to do it, or they tried it for a couple of years and then got frustrated with the business—which I absolutely understand—and then went to law school. GCTC’s done the Lawyer’s Play for. . . this is the twelfth one. They also have a base of actors who’ve been working with professional directors for twelve years, so they’re people who are, you know, pretty good actors. You’ve got a great kind of working relationship with them, and they understand you when you talk, and you say things like “What’s your objective in this scene?” and they know what you mean. You can talk to them almost like you could to a professional actor. So it’s super-fun. It’s a long process, right? It’s been in rehearsal since February, and it opens in May, so it’s three nights a week, or two nights and a weekend, for all that time. It’s a long process, which I prefer—another reason I like independent theatre, because I can dictate the terms that I work on. A traditional rehearsal process is two weeks in the rehearsal hall, one week in the theatre, opening night. I hate that. To really explore a play in two weeks plus tech is not enough time. But to work with an actor on Tuesday, and then again on Thursday, and then again on Sunday, the amount of time that they can put into thinking about it outside of rehearsal, the time I can put into thinking about it—I’m making that decision, but I don’t need to make it today, I can make it in two days, whereas if I were in a rehearsal hall, I’ve gotta make that decision today, because the crew’s got to build the thing because it’s got to get on set ready for us to be on stage in five days, right? I’d like that time for things to kind of marinate. Which is how it worked for Airport Security. We did a week of rehearsal, and then took ten days off, and then we did eighty hours spread over four weeks? [calling to Kate Smith, in the other room working on grant applications] Kate? Four weeks, I think, instead of doing eight hours a day for two weeks, we did five hours a day for three-and-a-half or something, or did a rehearsal and took two days off. Two days in a row. We had a staggered schedule which, again, just allowed everything to take the time that it needed, or that we could give it. So, there’s the lawyer play, we’re doing the [Ottawa] Fringe [Festival] thing again. . . I love the Fringe. I think the Fringe is great. It’s two weeks where I’m getting paid to sit around, watch plays, and drink beer with my friends. It’s pretty much a great job. “Okay, I’ll tweet about [Ottawa Fringe Festival Executive Director] Natalie [Joy Quesnel], sure, whatever you said. Alright, and I’ll organize the Wine and Cheese; that’s annoying, but you know, organizing it. I’ll plan events.” And [Gruppo] Rubato just had a big thing. We planned out our next five years; we did our five-year plan, and we’re hoping to produce in three consecutive years: 2012, 2013, and 2014. We’ve got three new shows lined up. The trick with Rubato is we do all new work, so it’s not as easy as finding plays, reading a play, and liking it. There’s so much more that goes into it. We’ve got a new play by an emerging artist coming up in 2012, something by Kris Joseph in 2013, and by me in 2014. Which gives me a lot of. . . because I take forever to write.
That’s sort of encouraging for those of us that take a lot of time.
I started writing Airport Security when we were touring Churchill Protocol in 2007. We got back from tour and I sent Kris the first scene, and I was like, “Hey, this is the stuff I was working on tour but didn’t show you for some reason.” And he was like, “Yeah, let’s do this next.” It just took three years from that. But part of that was writing, part of it was getting the funding together, and part of that was the space at the GCTC. I like that space; it’s expensive, but again, being in that building, an audience trusts you more, I think, right now, than being in Arts Court. Not that that’s right. But, it’s just what happens, right?
A certain level of consecration.
Totally.
You’re paying for the packaging.
Pretty much. Box office is paid for, and all that stuff’s included. It’s included too at Arts Court, but the fact that people don’t call Arts Court, to my knowledge, and say “Hey, what’s playing?” whereas people will call the GCTC box office and say “Hey, what’s on right now?” “Oh, this is in our Studio. . . this is on our main stage. . .” And if you’re really nice to the box office, they’ll push your show a bit harder.
How much do grants, and the grant application process timing, and that kind of availability of semi-public funds drive what you do and when you do it?
It doesn’t drive when we do it. It drives when we talk about when we’re doing it, and it drives when you really think about it. I’m writing grants now. Rubato has gotten into a bit of a rhythm in terms of how we like to work, how we like to develop where we like to do. We like to write, and we like to do stuff kind of privately and not get granting art regions involved; do writing, do private readings with just us. “Hey, we’re doing this play and come read it and drink beer.” Very informal kind of stuff. Then we get to a place where we like it; we get the granting regions involved then, we get involved in the granting process then. We like to do workshops; we like to do one, maybe two, but one is usually enough by the time we’re going for grants. One is enough workshops, plus the ancillary stuff that we’ll do without getting paid to. One is usually good for us, and then we go for production. But we’re very grant-dependent because we’re independent. We don’t have that subscription base. Not getting a grant won’t necessarily mean the project won’t happen, but not getting multiple grants means it won’t. We apply for three and get two? Oh, yeah—totally fine. We’ll just have to make a few. . . we’ll have to trim some things, clearly, but we’re fine. We get one? Erm, tight. . . mmm. . . scale back. . . might have to cut an actor, but possible. We get none of them, we can’t. We just can’t rely on ticket sales alone, because we can’t charge—I’d feel bad charging if we charged what was the actual cost. It’d be $75 to see a show in the studio at the GCTC. No f—king way, right? In Vancouver. . . all this arts funding cut stuff was happening in BC, right? I don’t know if you heard about any of it?
Refresh my memory.
It was about a year ago now, pre/post Olympics, and the BC Arts Council, the government of BC decided to rethink how it funds the arts, and funding was cut by 91% or something. You know, something ridiculous. It was how lottery and gaming money was distributed; because a lot of lottery money and legalized gambling money went to arts groups. There was all that money and “How are we going to distribute that?” too, so a lot of these small companies were either going to be cut off from their operating funding, or there would be so little project funding—which is what a company like Rubato works on; we don’t have the consistent operating funding, we apply per project—for a lot of the groups that apply on a per-project basis, the pool would be shrunk so greatly that it would be next to impossible to get any amount of funding that would be worth anything. A thousand bucks is a thousand bucks, but it’s not going to put a show up for you. I think it was an opera company in Vancouver who were like “Well, okay, so we’ll just ticket what the market will bear, we’ll start charging what we need to cover our costs,” and the cheapest ticket was $261. The cheapest upper-upper-upper balcony, you need two pairs of opera goggles to see the stage.
That was for an opera company?
Opera’s different; opera’s incredibly expensive, but still. When the cheapest ticket is that? A lot of it was to make a statement. I don’t know how far. . . I mean, I wasn’t living there at the time so I was following it, but peripherally. But it puts things into perspective.
Check back later in the week for the fifth part of this exclusive interview with Pat Gauthier.
Vampires, Ghosts, and Theatre Critics: St. Nicholas and The Turn of the Screw
Two different plays, each with a tinge of the supernatural, are enjoying runs in non-traditional venues in Ottawa right now. Cube Gallery is playing host to John Koensgen’s one-man St. Nicholas, and Laurier House is the site of The Turn of the Screw, presented by the aptly-named Screwdriver Collective. Just about everyone I’ve talked to who has seen them has had high praise for each, and I would agree that they’re both worth seeing, although entirely different offerings.
St. Nicholas is one of Irish playwright Conor McPherson’s earlier plays; in this performance, John Koensgen takes on the role of a stereotypically alcoholic theatre critic who spins the audience his winding tale of lusting after a young actress and then falling in with “the wrong crowd”—in this case, vampires. The narrative is a mix of the satirical (taking square aim at theatre critics; this was especially appropriate on opening night, when at least a quarter of the audience was composed of theatre critics of one stripe or another) and the fantastic. A balance somewhere near reality is achieved by exaggerating the everyday and understating the supernatural.
Overall, I enjoyed the performance, particularly the performer-controlled lighting, and the use of the entire space of the gallery for very effective entrances and exits. The one thing that keeps me from saying I enjoyed it completely was the characterization, which seemed forced at times. For example, the character’s educated, erudite speech lapses frequently into vulgarity; rather than “throw away” (downplay) these lines, they are emphasized. Although funny at first, the effect was somewhat jarring. Two or three excursions into another level of story in the second half are so excellently done, however, that they redeem the rest of the performance. I only wish I had seen John Koensgen’s previous performance of St. Nicholas at the Great Canadian Theatre Company in 2002, so that I would have a point of reference to gauge the evolution of his interpretation of the role.
This past summer, on my first visit to Laurier House, I remarked how it reminded me of an Edward Gorey drawing, a moment of Gothic horror frozen in time.
And that was during the day.
The Screwdriver Collective has brought Henry James’s Victorian ghost story The Turn of the Screw to life (if you’ll pardon the expression) in the dark halls of Laurier House; already allegedly haunted.
The screw, as it were, has been given two additional turns; the first, by playwright Jeffrey Hatcher, bringing to the fore an element of sexual tension and seasoning the text with Biblical reference; the second, by director Patrick Gauthier in adapting it to this unusual setting and highlighting the humour of the text.
In the role of the Governess, whose personal account of her days in the charge of two mysterious children at a house called Bly in the English countryside she is re-enacting, Kate Smith flies from hopeful innocence through resolute passion, abject terror, and finally descends into complete madness. By her second line, she is fully believable in her role. Kris Joseph narrates, plays every supporting role, and even provides occasional sound effects. Astonishingly, he is every bit as believable as a middle-aged housekeeper as a ten-year-old boy, and with clever use of the space, there is clear separation between characters and scenes. All this is accomplished without a single prop or any scenery beyond the house and the lighting.
The lighting design by Guillaume Houet (Blackbird, Third Wall) is crucial to the success of this piece, and a marvelous example of how much can be done with very little. Every angle is used to its utmost advantage, throwing the features of the actors into ghastly relief.
To call the Laurier House venue “intimate” would be an understatement; the seating is very close, and the heat oppressive (this may not be such a bad thing in light of this week’s weather conditions, but dressing lightly is recommended). This, however, adds to, rather than detracts from, the performance; one is not meant to be at all comfortable watching The Turn of the Screw.
Ottawa is lucky to have two local theatre companies mount productions like these in intimate settings for a very reasonable ticket price. With limited seating in both locations, it would be wise to book ahead.
St. Nicholas (remaining dates)
November 2, 3, 4, 5, 6th
Doors: 7:30pm; Curtain: 8:00pm (Thursday, November 4th only, curtain is at 9:00pm)
Tickets available via Cube Gallery
The Turn of the Screw (remaining dates)
November 3, 4, 5, 6, 7th
Doors: 7:30pm; Curtain: 8:00pm
Tickets available via The Turn of the Screw website
The Turn of the Screw: Opens October 27th!
WIKIPEDIA states: The Turn of the Screw is a novella (short novel) written by Henry James. Originally published in 1898, it is ostensibly a ghost story. Due to its ambiguous content, it became a favorite text of New Criticism.
The novella has had many differing interpretations, often mutually exclusive, including those of a Freudian nature. Many critics have tried to determine the exact nature of the evil that is spoken of in the story.
FROM THE PRODUCERS: The version of The Turn of the Screw that we are presenting was created in 1996 by American playwright Jeffrey Hatcher. But Screw has been fascinating artists ever since Henry James first published his novel in 1898.
Perhaps the best-known recent film that is connected (albeit loosely) to The Turn of the Screw is 2001′s The Others. The movie uses the classic novel as a launching point — using children, wandering spirits, a largely-empty country estate and a primary female character — but goes in entirely different directions.
If you dig a little bit, you can find all manner of other adaptations of Screw, in almost every form of media. The story has been touched upon by authors like Joyce Carol Oates and Peter Straub; adapted as a ballet and a graphic novel; lifted for plot lines in everything from the soap opera, Dark Shadows, to Star Trek: Voyager; and adapted directly for television in versions that have starred actresses such as Lynn Redgrave, Jodhi May, and (oh yes!) Valerie Bertinelli.
Something in Henry James’ classic story has made it absolutely irresistible over the past century. We hope you’ll find our production of Jeffrey Hatcher’s adaptation irresistible, too.
Because Laurier House is a very intimate space, seating is extremely limited.
Purchase tickets in advance to ensure you can get a seat!
For more information about the production and the historical (and reportedly ‘haunted’) Laurier House, visit here.
CFSW 2010: Semifinal bout #2
As one of the first public school buildings that Ottawa ever opened, the Ottawa Technical High School is home to one of the classiest auditoriums standing in the city. As the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word blazes towards its conclusion, the venues seem to get more and more grand. Tonight, the architecture of the stage itself finally began to match the grandeur of the work presented on the stage. Tonight, the now-closed Ottawa Technical High School re-opened for a one-night master class in poetry.
The teams for semifinal bout 2: Burlington, Edmonton, Urban Legends, and Wild Card.
The losers: nobody.
Round 1
Wild Card lived up to their name by presenting a team piece. When does a team that’s been in existence for three days find time to build a team piece? Turns out that the piece was mostly led by team member Brad Morden, but nobody much minded: they presented a rallying cry for optimism and creativity, thrumming “I am stronger today. Not as strong as tomorrow.” Edmonton’s Mary Pinkoski invoked the smoldering bones of the creators of the first fire, reminding everyone since of the legacy of that creation. Urban Legends’ Marcus Jameel laid down a passionate plea for victims. The top-scoring poet (and my favorite) of the round was Burlington’s Truth Is… She opened her piece with “they say not every suicide note looks like a letter”, stunning described every piece of a body in crisis as part of a message, and brought the crowd to it feet on er last line: “we should learn to read the signs”. The lowest score any judge gave for the round was a 7.9; two pieces got two tens each. Could it get any better? Hell yes.
Round 2
First up this round was Edmonton’s Ahmed Ali, who presented one of the most searing poems I’ve heard at the festival. Punning mercilessly (“control sea – do you copy that?”), he shared the unheard perspective on Somalian pirates — fishermen driven to desperation — with exquisite wit (“I know human beings who wish they’d never wake up because they’re tired of mourning”). He was followed by Wild Card’s Faye Estrella, whose homage to Steve Sauve (“my baby didn’t believe in crying” … “I’m giving this evening up to a sun of poetry”) rose to a pitch that moved the auditorium walls several feet back. Burlington presented a team piece dedicated to their optimism and need to the future, and Urban Legends’ Hodan Ibrahim scorched the crowd with a call to action whose last line — “Jefferson, Kennedy, Lincoln: we are sorry for not having stood up earlier” — pulled gasps from the packed house.
And yet: it got better.
Round 3
Burlington’s Tomy Bewick got the third round off to a solid start with a poem about colors and lines… and messing with both. He was followed by Urban Legends’ Hyfidelik, whose mesmerizing magic over the number 108 wove numbers into letters into words into imagery into numbers again. This poem is almost indescribable and must truly be seen to be appreciated; the house leapt to its feet as he closed with “no wonder zero is in eight [innate]” and the judges rewarded his brilliance generously: three out five of them gave him a perfect 10. You’d think it couldn’t be topped, but the Edmonton team followed Hyfidelik with a slickly murderous stab of a team piece that started as a praise to a poet (“I fell in love at a poetry slam”) and finished with an utter evisceration when the object of the piece became the subject of “somebody’s heartbreak poem”. Wild Card’s Sean finished the round with an image-rich attempt to untie the nautical knots of lost relationship memory. At the close of the round, it was clear that the crowd and judges were utterly enthralled: the lowest score received by anyone in round 3 was a 9.3!
Round 4
The bout closed with a powerhouse round of vivifying versification. Urban Legends was represented by Synonymous, who tied themes of science, genetics and stem cell progress to the non-evolution and non-revolution of the global immigrant population. This was followed by an epic team piece from team Burlington, where Tomy Bewick and Made Wade brilliantly and hilariously lampooned the stereotypically single, horny male. Wild Card’s Steve Miller offered a tender and charming ode to acceptance (“I come from Atlantis, cowboy — people don’t understand our love”), but suffered a penalty for going overtime (as an aside: that timekeeper is a rat bastard who ruins it for everyone). And Edmonton’s Titilope Sonuga brought the whole bout to a gobsmacking conclusion with an assertive and sly demand for respect — probably the finest wordplay of the night — for which she was rewarded with a 9.8 as her lowest score.
Looking back on my own description of the bout, I can’t help but feel as though I’m hyperbolizing… but the elation that has stayed with me in the hours since I left the venue assures me that my perception of this evening’s poetry is correct. What it means, dear reader, is that Saturday night’s final bout is unmissable. Earlier in the evening, Montreal and Ottawa Capital Slam won the right to compete in the Saturday endgame. The final scores for this bout were:
Wild Card — 112.3
Edmonton — 115.7
Burlington — 116.1
Urban Legends — 119.3
… which means that the final bout will take place between Montreal, Ottawa Capital Slam, Burlington, and Urban Legends.
Bring it on.
CFSW 2010: Bout #5
There are two moments of silence I adore when watching slam poetry.
The first is when a poet first takes to the stage. The clock starts as soon as the poet engages with the audience, so there is almost always a moment of silent reflection in front of the microphone before the artist connects with the crowd. Some gaze softly at the floor. Some stand with hands cupped as if in prayer. Some seem to thrust psychic roots down through the stage and into the Earth below. In that moment, the audience collectively stops breathing. It is religious. At the moment the poet engages, we inspire together, and the sound is a wash.
The second moment is when a poet runs dry. It can happen any time, coming out of any piece, at any pace. Suddenly the sound stops. In the most exquisite of these events, the poem flashes out of existence and the poet is discovered, in pure light, shining underneath. Waves of support flood on to the stage from the crowd, and inevitably – after a moment – those waves come crashing back as the poet is once again possessed by the poem.
There were many of both of these moments in bout five. All of them were gorgeous. Teams from Guelph, Halifax, Peterborough, and Vancouver faced off at the 9PM session at Ottawa Little Theatre, in a slickly-run slam captained by Greg ‘Ritallin’ Frankson.
To my eye, the Guelph team appeared to be the youngest of the bunch, but they represented wisely. Beth Fischer stalked on to the stage, grounded like an oak; between inhales and exhales she railed against the concrete insanity and longed for her escape to nature. Two rounds later, Matthew Dryden shared an ode to the poet he met last night — likely Beth, since he referred to her poem’s “fried chicken impulses” — and proved that their teeth throw sparks when they kiss. With the gleam of someone who hasn’t yet been steamrolled by the working world, Amanda worked her way through the game of getting a job in the office machinery, and decided to rail against the pressure to conform: “you don’t have to be a title to make a difference”. Pinch-hitter David James Hudson finished the team’s offerings with a manifesto against ‘living in the new normal’.
Halifax presented the only team piece of the night, with their first poem: an eviscerating deconstruction of Canada’s national anthem that raised the crowd to a howl with its last line: “when the anthem plays, what exactly are you standing for?” Zeviathan offered biting commentary on societal priorities, railing against his neighbours: “I’d rather water my children than the lawn,” he declared, and “in my home, my child can free-range for Cheerios for weeks!” JPhat channeled pure rhythm in a eulogy for progress; a pattern Winona Linn followed for an angry piece about a disabled man who is vilified because people think he’s always intoxicated.
For my money, the Passion Prize for the evening goes to the Peterborough team, for the range of their work and the risks they took in presenting it. Kate MacNeil compared her love for a boy to the love her mom showed her dad; Gillian Turnham exploded into movement with a piece about motion. “My best friend grew up in New York and man that guy knows how to walk,” she celebrated, even managing to call for respect for our friend the hypotenuse. Jess Waite and Chris Last both took on issues of love; Jess externalized its effects and wondered “how you and I become crystal,” while Chris focused on the power of a little heart.
In terms of overall skill and presentation, I gave my biggest nod of support to the Vancouver team. RC Weslowski was probably the oldest poet of the night – and he looks a bit like the English teacher I always wished I had – but as soon as he opens his mouth and raises his head, he becomes a gleaming pre-teen: “a poem might remind us that the world is out to embrace us.” Sasha Langford started her piece with eyes downcast, and then traced the life of a fame object from its birth to its inevitable fall, letting herself get possessed by a tirade of plastic pop icon imagery. Lucia Misch, clad in cowboy boots, reminisced about the time she spent with horses in her youth. With an addictive turn of phrase she lamented the constant replacement of one focus with another, and seemed to yearn for a rediscovery of her younger passions. And my favorite poem of the night, stealthily wrapped in powerhouse rhetoric, came from Johnny MacRae. In a flawless stream of logical connections he deconstructed the idiom “a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle”, proving that fish need bicycles desperately and, further, that fish need us to need bicycles so our garbage will stop killing fish. It came together with the ease and effectiveness of a Chinese finger puzzle.
As it turned out — and somewhat to my surprise, because I thought the Halifax team’s showing was incredibly strong — the Vancouver team won the bout. I’ll certainly be glad to hear more from them this week, but the entire slam was top-notch — and those plentiful moments of silence before and during tonight’s poems will haunt me for days.
CFSW 2010: Don’t judge me
“How would you like to be a judge tonight?” he asked.
“Uh.” Stammer. “I.” Wild gesticulation. “But.” Crotch moistness.
“You know you want to,” he confirmed.
“It’s too much responsibility,” I protested.
“It’s just a responsibility. You’ll love it”. And with that a small whiteboard was dropped into my lap and I became one of five randomly-snookered audience judges for the 2010 Canadian Festival of Spoken Word, Bout 4.
So this means I don’t have to write a review for the bout, right? Because that would be awkward? Right? I certainly understand awkward, now that I’ve been a judge.
Here’s the deal with judging, in case you don’t know:
As far as I can tell, the only non-starter criteria for being a judge is that you shouldn’t be sleeping with a poet. “You can sleep with the poets after the bout,” tonight’s host said. (aside: the immortal words of Stephen Sondheim come to mind here, in imagining this scenario: “the trouble with poet is how do you know it’s deceased?”. But I digress.)
What they don’t tell you, after qualifying you as a judge, is that you’re going to be sitting in an audience surrounded by people who are sleeping with poets. And poets, too.
Our “calibration poet” was a maestro named Kim, from Montreal. I was told our scores for him would set the tone for the rest of the bout. Not wanting to be too effusive, I scored the poor boy low: 6.8. I didn’t mind being the “wicked judge” for the night.
The immediate booing and razzing was surprising, coming from folks who usually use their words. “I think,” I thought, “that I am an asshole!”
I was reminded of my instructions at the beginning of the evening: “You’re going to experience something known as ‘score creep’. You’re going to want to inch your scores up as the bout goes on. Try to resist that and stay consistent.” So: by virtue of my first (low) score, I was doomed to being an asshole all night.
Round one began. The first poet spoke. I scored low. People behind me sucked teeth. People in front of me spun around to see my board, scoffed, and made faces at me.
“I think,” I thought, “that I’m going to get lynched.”
Two poets later, I scored low again. “Where the f#*k did they get these judges?” I heard from behind me.
I resolved to stand firm.
I scored low again in round two. People scoffed. I began planning my post-bout escape.
Another low score: whisperers behind me decided I was the source of a great conspiracy.
Another low score. Friends of poets hissed “HIGHER!”. By this point I was possessed by impenetrable steely resolve. This, friends, is the arrogance Lex Luthor feels. These poets were Supermen and I was wielding whiteboard kryptonite.
At the end of the bout, when final scores were revealed, it turned out that my perception didn’t match reality — the team scores were in a perfectly normal range. This just proved that all of the razzing and moaning from the audience was just good-natured fun. And so now I want to be a judge forever. Take that, Superman.
But hang on. Just to prove that I wasn’t a curmudgeon all night, I’ll close by sharing some of the drops of verbal gold that made it into my notebook, on a team-by-team basis: I may have scored low in general, but this was terrific poetry. These lines struck me hard enough that I needed to record them.
London
Toronto Poetry Slam
Calgary
Urban Legends
Desires, Acted Upon: Someone For Everyone review
Rigorous analysis: Dr. Irma Rot (Catriona Leger) helps Steven Greenberg (Geoff McBride) get at the root of his issues. Photo: GATD Caplan
Someone For Everyone is a brilliant comedy, showcasing a talented cast and making novel use of multimedia to expand the theatrical experience. Expert direction and the liberal use of movement completely overshadow the weaknesses of the script.
Steven Greenberg (Geoff McBride) is playwright GATD Caplan’s protagonist in this account of a pathetic figure trapped squarely in the “friend zone”, seemingly unable to attain any kind of a romantic connection with a member of the opposite sex. His attempts to do so, and the analysis of the reasons for his perennial failure, form the basis of the narrative, with every actor (except McBride) filling multiple roles.
Beth, the recurring primary object of Steven’s desire, is played by Sarah Finn with grace and sincerity. A versatile actor, she is equally convincing as a series of other romantic interests, and later in the performance as an old Irish Catholic priest. Jordan Hancey plays a dual role as the narrator and as Steven’s ideal self with energy and presence. McBride brings a playful humanity to Steven that he might not otherwise possess, encouraging the audience to be sympathetic to his character rather than merely laughing at his situation.
Even in the midst of this exceptionally strong and capable cast, Catriona Leger stands out. She portrays close to a dozen distinct characters effortlessly—from an analyst, to a rabbi, to a series of drunken college girls—slipping from one role to the next as easily as one turns the pages of a book. Her agility and range of expression make one almost forget that the same actor is playing each of these different roles. Leger seems capable of doing anything and everything a comic actor can do with complete mastery. Her influence extends beyond her role to the direction of the movement which is indispensable to the energy of the entire performance, particularly during the transitions.
Director Patrick Gauthier is proving to be somewhat of a genius. The play achieves unity under his vision; the action is cohesive, and the interactions between the characters are genuinely believable. His choice of incidental music is appropriate to the scene and the setting. The seamlessly integrated video (both live and pre-recorded with the help of Ottawa actor Kris Joseph) included as an essential part of the action is inspired. The overall effect is cinematic, without losing the raw intimacy of theatre.
The shortcomings in Caplan’s script are only those of naïveté; it is better to concentrate on its comedic elements rather than its theme. Semi-autobiographical plays, as this one appears to be, are not always narcissistic; Nadine Thornhill’s Oreo, for example, served primarily as a thematic examination of identity. Here, it is difficult to tell. Although there is some effort to develop a theme, Greenberg is not quite ironic enough to be a Woody Allen caricature; the audience is left to decide whether there is a reason for his condition, or if he is a hapless Everyman picked upon by fate alone. Not enough of a statement is made in either direction for one to reach a clear decision; thankfully the unresolved question takes a back seat to the sheer hilarity of the production.
Something For Everyone is lovable, fun, and a testament to the skill of the cast and crew who saw the potential of this script and have elevated it to the status of a comedic gem.
HAVE YOUR VALID BOARDING PASS READY FOR AIRPORT SECURITY!
HAVE YOUR VALID BOARDING PASS READY FOR AIRPORT SECURITY!
Gruppo Rubato’s newest production takes off June 4th.
Airport Security, the newest play by award-winning artist Patrick Gauthier, marks Gruppo Rubato’s return to the Ottawa stage.
Presented at the Irving Greenberg Theatre Centre-Studio Theatre, 1233 Wellington St. West (at Holland Ave), the performance runs June 4-12, 2010, with a special preview performance on June 3rd.
Can’t wait that long? Visit our website, www.rubato.ca, to catch the latest installment of our 4-part short film, Airport Security, before we open!
Airport Security exposes our fears and foibles of airport protocol in Rubato’s characteristic witty and political style. Playing on our insecurities and overconfidence in a system destined to both convolute and demystify air travel, from shuttles to baggage carousels, departures to arrivals, Airport Security scans Canada’s growing obsession with “security.”
Written and directed by Patrick Gauthier (2010 winner of the Council for the Arts in Ottawa’s RBC Emerging Artist Award, Rideau Award-Emerging Artist nominee and director of the multiple award-winning production Countries Shaped Like Stars), the production features talented local actors Simon Bradshaw, Kris Joseph, Catriona Leger, Tania Levy and Kate Smith.
Sarah Waghorn designs Costume and Props (having previously designed for Rubato’s productions of Listening and The Churchill Protocol). First time design collaborators are: John Doucet (Set), Pierre Ducharme (Lighting) and Original music by Ottawa newcomer, Ann Walton. Emily Pearlman (co-creator of Countries Shaped Like Stars by ¡Mi Casa! Theatre) is production Dramaturg.
Tickets are on sale now through the Great Canadian Theatre Company Box Office, in person or by phone (613-236-5196).
Show times are 7:30 p.m. with a Pay-What-You-Can Matinee on June 6 at 2:30 p.m. Tickets are $25 ($20 for students).
For more information, visit our website at : www.rubato.ca.
Gruppo Rubato was founded in 2002 by Patrick Gauthier and Tania Levy, and includes core members Kris Joseph and Gavriella Silverstone. Rubato presents challenging, contemporary, politically-charged Canadian theatre for a young, educated, urban audience. We are exclusively dedicated to the creation and presentation of new work, specializing in works by Ottawa artists.
Just the Facts
All knowledge that is about human society, and not about the natural world, is historical knowledge, and therefore rests upon judgment and interpretation. This is not to say that facts or data are nonexistent, but that facts get their importance from what is made of them in interpretation… for interpretations depend very much on who the interpreter is, who he or she is addressing, what his or her purpose is, at what historical moment the interpretation takes place.
— Edward W. Saïd
I suppose it takes chutzpah for a theatre company to program a play that deals with Israel/Palestine issues. Based on what I’ve seen of public reactions to any piece of media that touches upon what goes on in the land sandwiched between the Mediterranean and the Jordan River, I can understand the trepidation. Some people don’t want to talk about it at all; some people bristle at anything that could even be perceived as criticism of either side.
I am working with the Great Canadian Theatre Company right now on a play called Facts. It’s the world premiere of a script by Arthur Milner, and it maps some broad strokes of Israeli-Palestinian politics on to a murder mystery involving an Isreali detective, a Palestinian detective, a Jewish settler, and the murder of an archaeologist who was trying to prove that King David never existed. If you’re not up to speed on Jewish history and culture, the implication here is that this archaeologist was murdered over his claim that Jews have no historical claim to the land on which their nation currently sits.
On the surface, it’s the kind of theatre I love to be part of: political and opinionated. With the current pressure being placed on Israel by the US government over Israel’s expansion of settlements, it is also VERY timely and topical. It is difficult to color the play as pro-Zionist, which runs somewhat against the grain of popular opinion in North America. And while I don’t think the play is particularly inflammatory, it is certain to get some audience members riled up because, at its heart, it puts a Palestinian in a room with a man who believes without question that God gave every square inch of Israel to Jews. I welcome the discussion, and even the argument. But I have no control over how the audience will respond to the play, and that makes me a little anxious — especially since I’m playing the hard-line Jewish settler.
The only thing I have complete control over is my job as an actor, which is to embody my character to the full extent and intent set forth by the director and the playwright. This means that no amount of discussion or debate with any audience member, on any side of the issue — no matter how persuasive or convincing — can sway me from the course of my work. It mustn’t. I tell myself this now because I am anticipating post-show discussions and talk-backs where I will be called upon to defend the things my character says and does.
There is a reason the play is called Facts, and I think that reason has a lot to do with the quote at the top of this post. What I think Arthur Milner has cleverly done with his script is demonstrate how people cling to things that they claim are true (whether they can prove them or not), and how the utter certainty of those beliefs can lead to disaster. The effects of this are deeply visible in the play, and I anticipate strong reactions from our audience as well. As we barrel through our last days of technical rehearsals and into our opening week, I’m wondering if we’ll talk about the abstracted themes of the play, or if we’ll end up trying to “fix” the Middle East at every talk-back session.
We simply won’t know until you come and tell us.
Preview of a dress rehearsal
Mother Courage and Her Children is open; it has been quite a week for the National Arts Centre’s English Acting Company.
I wrote previously about the immense challenges presented to us by mounting a play that is considered one of Brecht’s masterworks. The outcome of working through those challenges was a Pay-What-You-Can dress rehearsal this past Tuesday, and I want to tell you a bit about that day. I’m not writing this in the spirit of gossip, but because I have often talked in my own blog about the beautiful moments that can come with a career in the theatre, I think it’s important to describe the opposite end of the spectrum. If you’ve been keeping track of our work on this play, you know that the preview performance that was supposed to take place on Wednesday night was canceled; after reading this, you may understand some of the reasons why.
To recap the events of the lead-up to last Tuesday, allow me to quote myself:
With six very full and focused days of rehearsal on the stage, we have yet to finish working all the way through the play once, and I am only cautiously optimistic that we may manage to wrap it up some time tomorrow, during day seven. We’re still figuring out where the pedals in the car are, and how to adjust the mirrors, and hoping we never have to parallel park in the snow.
Well: at the end of day seven, we had managed to work through almost the entire play. This left us five hours of rehearsal to finish working through the final scene-and-a-half or so, and then to work through the sound and light cues for the first four scenes or so. It was a pretty tall order. And regardless of our progress on Tuesday afternoon, we knew that our audience on Tuesday night would be seeing us run the play from end to end for the first time. Ever.
Speaking personally, I was very excited about Tuesday. I thought, as many of us did, that it was actually going to be a terrific experience: for us, because we’d finally get to feel the entire play, with all the bells and whistles; and for an audience, because stopping the show was basically going to be an inevitable occurrence, meaning they’d get a cool and utterly unique glimpse into how a theatre company works.
At 4:45 PM in the afternoon, though, we had run out of rehearsal time, and did not complete our ambitious plan for the day. The stage manager used the final moments to show us some lighting states that we didn’t get a chance to look at, and then we broke for dinner. Our assistant director, Stephen Ouimette, assured us that he’d be in the house with the script for the performance, in case we needed to ask for help with a line. Tanja Jacobs, our Mother Courage, suggested that Stephen might benefit from a vocal warmup.
7:30 PM arrived faster than many of us hoped. Our director, Peter Hinton, addressed the dress rehearsal crowd of about 300 before we started. “Tonight’s a bit different than other dress rehearsals in the past,” he said. “It’s the very first time we’ve put all of the scenes, costumes, sound, lights, music, props, and special effects together and run this play right through from beginning to end.” He explained that actors would very likely be asking for help with lines, because a first runthrough can be overwhelming. He warned the audience that we would very likely have to halt the show at some point, to correct something, and that we’d get going again as quickly as we could. And he thanked everyone for being patient.
The performance began, and went off the rails almost immediately, as we all expected it would. The net effect on the cast was both crushing and galvanizing. The audience saw some very raw rehearsal work: lines were dropped and prompting was common; actors missed cues or were in the wrong places; one scene was done in the wrong lighting cue; set pieces knocked into each other or were moved incorrectly; actors saw each other in costume or in wigs for the first time, which affected focus; songs had to be stopped and restarted due to sound balance problems; props were missing or didn’t work or got lost in the shuffle of scene changes; the show had to be stopped many times — eight or so? — in order to correct issues. At one point a disgruntled man in the balcony screamed “SPEAK UP!!” at the stage. Many of our guests left at intermission. Those that stayed witnessed a production that ran for about four hours. After all was said and done, most of the cast was found sitting together in a single dressing room, not speaking, sipping beer and slowly shaking their heads.
In all honesty, nothing that went wrong was terribly unusual; it’s all stuff that I expect to happen on any show when it’s being run for the first time from end-to-end with full tech and costumes. In fact, I’ve been involved with first run-throughs that were far worse: the difference here was that we had a few hundred people sitting in the audience watching us; and despite the pre-show speech, some people’s expectations simply could not be met. It was a frightening realization of the kinds of bad dreams I have before opening nights, and I hope I don’t have to experience another night like it for a while.
And so, for these and a few other complicating reasons, the decision was made to cancel our subsequent preview performance, giving us a much-needed extra day of rehearsal. We took what we learned from Tuesday night — a great deal, indeed — and poured it into preparation for our “first” preview on Thursday; that outing was far, far better, as evidenced by the fact that we shaved 18 minutes off the first act alone. And now that we’ve finished our first weekend of performances, I can say that we all look back on Tuesday as a gift of a failure for what it taught us about the show and about each other; ultimately, Mother Courage and Her Children is better for it, and with heartfelt thanks to the audience members who were with us on Tuesday, we are now ready to present the show we always intended to present. And it’s pretty damned good.
