“We’re all boxed in inside our cubicles, glued to our technology,” says Diane Brown, director of Ruby Slippers Theatre, when I ask her what the inspiration was behind this week’s double bill. Après Moi and The List are two translated Quebecois plays running from January 28th to February 1st at Studio 16. In addition to their francophone origins, the plays share a common theme: human isolation.

“People are not getting the human connection they need as social beings,” Brown explains, “We don’t know how—or we don’t have the courage—to reach out and build those connections.” Apparently, she’s not the only one who feels this way. In a Vancouver Foundation survey conducted in 2012, one in four residents of Metro Vancouver reported feeling alone more often than they would like and one in three reported that they found it difficult to make new friends. This trend toward increasing isolation and disconnection may be linked to poorer health, decreased trust and hardened attitudes toward others in the community. The Foundation poetically calls this effect a “corrosion of caring.”

Theatre, Brown hopes, can be part of the solution to our “corroding” community. Unlike TV or online entertainment, attending a theatre performance is interactive, “a conversation.” Viewers don’t just plug into a screen, they experience the action in an engaging way. A play doesn’t just give viewers a way to pass the time; it “gives [them] something to talk about in the car ride home.”

My commute home from Studio 16 is testament that Brown has achieved her goal.

Both Après Moi and The List are thought provoking pieces. Written by Christian Begin and directed by Brown herself, Après Moi is a collection of repeated moments—the joining of five disconnected but parallel lives under one shabby motel roof off Route 117. Story lines overlap and interweave, resulting in a profoundly human examination of love, lust and letting go. Snippets of TV commercials and splashes of clever irony are integrated into the action, adding humour to an otherwise dark story.

The List, written by Jennifer Tremblay and directed by Jack Paterson, is a 50 minute solo piece starring France Perras. A stunning examination of obsession and guilt, love and family, friendship and sacrifice, The List is the story of an isolated and anxious woman who believes she has murdered her only friend. Evocative set design and dramatic lighting compliment a powerful performance by Perras, drawing the audience into her character’s desolate life in small town Quebec.

Poetically scripted and compellingly executed, Après Moi and The List will give you something to think—and hopefully talk—about.

Studio 16
1555 West 7th Avenue
Show @ 8PM
Tickets: $18.50(student/senior) / $23 (general admission)
Purchase tickets

Click for more information and show times.

Vancouver audiences will experience Hamlet in a new way when the play opens October 30^th at The Shop theatre. Libby Osler—a Bowen Island-born, New York-trained actor—will play a young, female Hamlet in a production where four major male characters have been rewritten as women. “We weren’t trying to force any gender switches,” Kailey Spear, one of the play’s directors, told me. “Hamlet’s struggles are not gender-specific, so she works well as a male or female character, whereas Ophelia is judged in terms of her beauty and her virtue, which is a very female experience.”

I went to the theatre to observe the rehearsal of a heated scene between Hamlet and her lover, Ophelia. The Shop is a warehouse-style space that was once used as a prop workshop for the Vancouver Playhouse Theatre and has since been outfitted with plush, red velvet seats. Sam Spear—Kailey’s identical twin sister and the play’s co-director—stretched across two rows of seats, watching the scene unfold.

“I did love you once,” Hamlet said, her expression tormented, her hands evading Ophelia’s grasping ones. “Indeed, you made me believe so,” Ophelia replied, hopeful. Hamlet pulled her close and kissed her, then pushed her away. By scene’s end she’d left Ophelia alone on the stage, rejected and woeful. Their storm of emotions reminded me of my worst breakup, my simultaneous desire to flee and to inflict pain, to receive and reject love.

“The themes that come through in Hamlet are ones people can still connect to; the characters and their motivations are recognizable,” Sam told me. The Spears have edited Shakespeare’s script for length and changed pronouns to reflect characters’ gender switches, but otherwise kept Shakespeare’s script intact. Though audiences may not recognize some of the play’s language, its visual elements—the setting and costumes—will be familiar. This production is set in what Sam calls a fictitious “today-esque” world, where the media follows the Danish royal characters as though they’re Hollywood celebs. The scene between Hamlet and Ophelia unfolds in a nightclub setting, and tabloid covers featuring the play’s characters will be projected on screens to contextualize events.

In the play, Hamlet returns to Denmark from university after her father, the King of Denmark, dies. Once home, she finds that her mother has remarried—to her uncle, who her father’s ghost reveals as his murderer. Hamlet must then avenge her father’s death while navigating an intricate web of relationships. In traditional productions, where Hamlet is male, social disapproval of the character’s relationship with Ophelia is rooted in class tensions; in this one, the lovers’ sexuality is the source of controversy.

After rehearsal, I spoke with Osler, who sees similarities between our world and that of the play. “The marriage [between Hamlet’s uncle and mother] is used to distract Denmark’s citizens from their country’s political stability,” she said, and noted that celebrity news is an equivalent distraction in our world today. “We’re inundated with it.” Osler described her character as distrustful of appearances; “She’s always after our obsession with the superficial. Hamlet is saying to people”—here, she tapped the table for emphasis—“look a little closer.”

In the future, the Spear sisters plan to create a film version of Hamlet, with an actor like Osler as the lead. “Hamlet’s a great role,” Sam told me, “she’s a complex and dynamic character. Unlike token strong female characters in mainstream film and television, who are so strong and flawless that they never fail, Hamlet is very flawed, but trying to use her strength to fight through her faults. We want to give audiences an opportunity to see a female actor play that kind of character.”

Hamlet
Directors: Kailey and Sam Spear
Opens October 30^th at The Shop theatre (125 East 2^nd Ave) and runs until November 9^th. Preview October 29^th. 

Tickets available from Brown Paper Tickets. More info available on Facebook. 

– Story by Kyla Jamieson. Look out for Kyla’s profile of Libby Osler in Sad Mag’s forthcoming Movement issue, on stands March 2015.

“One man’s junk is another man’s gold,” sing Andrew Cohen and Alex Nicoll, both vocalists in Paul Snider’s, Junk!, showing at the Vancouver Fringe Festival. Performed exclusively using instruments made of discarded objects, this 60 min musical tells the story of Melissa, a young girl who stumbles upon a junkyard and its ten oddball inhabitants. Together with the gang, Melissa begins a musical exploration of climate change and consumerist themes, all centred around the idea that “junk is in the eye of the beholder.”

Despite its creative approach, however, Junk! failed to provide the gold it promised…at least in this humble “beholder’s” opinion.

Of course, the instruments themselves were fascinating. Among the most notable were a saxophone made out of a rubber glove, a stand up bass built inside a wheelbarrow, and a Glockenspiel constructed using old PVC tubing. Both aesthetically and conceptually interesting, these dumpster creations grabbed my attention immediately. Although these instruments were functional, however, many could not be hooked up to amps, and so their musical contributions were barely audible. The resulting sound scape predominantly featured guitar, percussion and vocals, losing the truly unique sounds to the blare of these more familiar ones.

The score, an original composition by Snider himself, was equally disappointing. Both instrumentally and lyrically repetitive, the only thing about the music I liked was the old hubcaps and empty bottles it was played upon. Likewise, Snider’s messages about consumerist culture and global warming were generic, and failed to convince me to start cutting up my old shoes to make bongo drums.

To top it all off, Junk! had little or no plot to speak of. Instead, performers moved from one mediocre song to the next, seemingly without cause. The musical, much like the instruments themselves, appeared to be held together with little more than shoestrings and duct tape.

With multiple technical malfunctions and generally subpar acting, Junk! certainly lives up to its name. The medium, is, indeed, the message, and in this case, I’m afraid they’re both “junk”.

Michael Healey’s play Proud is a wild retelling of the 2011 federal election—very, very wild. While our stoic leader Stephen Harper is an all too familiar presence in Canadian’s lives (what has he gone and done now?), as leader of the ultra conservative Conservatives he isn’t normally surrounded by so much overt femininity. This femininity is found in the play’s conflict inducing, foul-mouthed, incendiary force Jisbella, single mother and highly-inexperienced Quebec MP—unless, of course you consider managing a St. Hubert to be the only credible experience necessary to sit in the House of Commons.

While our fictitious and facetious PM struggles in new territory, Michael Healy situates the audience in hilariously perfect Canadiana. The play opens to a dark stage, when the familiar opening notes of the CBC’s The National denote the start of the audience’s descent into political madness. Only there’s no Peter Mansbridge to comment on Harper’s precarious situation this time. All of the signifiers of Canadian politics can be found here, both for comedic effect as well as to remind the audience of the ever-present comedy—or perhaps horror—that our political system elicits, even without the ridiculous reimagining of the current distribution of seats in the House.

If his hairpiece doesn’t convince you, Andrew Wheeler’s impeccably robotic reimagining of Harper certainly will. The stiff arm movements and stilted legalese that characterize his speech are dead on, hardly needing to be exaggerated to be comical. What’s nice about Wheeler’s performance is that he doesn’t attempt to be some carbon copy of the PM, but rather the perfect caricature, at once ridiculously unlikeable for his ruthless politics, and surprisingly sympathetic in his pathetic attempts to play the average human.

The uproariously unstoppable Jisbella, played by Emmelia Gordon, only makes Wheeler’s mannerisms all the more comical. Gordon is not only able to provide some serious comedic power; she brings a dose of humanity to the play as she struggles to balance the rigours of a politic life she is unprepared for with single-motherhood.

What’s so successful about Proud is that it doesn’t take the easy route. Healy could have taken some easy shots at the Conservatives recent misfortunes and run with it. Instead he took perhaps one of the most monolithic Prime Ministers of date and used him as a jumping off point to astutely examine politics as a whole in the country. The play was certainly humorously critical of many of the Conservative party’s downfalls and despite the ridiculously exaggerated plot and heightened amorality, it suggests that the situation that Harper finds himself in is in fact not so improbable for any of our political parties really; perhaps a sneak peak into what Canadian politics would be like if we were a little closer to our American counterparts. Luckily it’s still only just a play and not a reality, for now of course.

Catch Proud at the Firehall Arts Centre from now until April 26th . More info regarding tickets and talkback dates can be found here.

I’ll always remember the sounds of Leonard Cohen travelling through my family’s bungalow growing up.

As an 8 year old though, I don’t think I understood the profound resonance Cohen’s lyrics have with so many people. I also don’t think I ever realized that not only is Cohen a musician, but his lyrics are pure poetry. Embraced as a Renaissance Man, his poetry explores religion, politics, loneliness, sexuality, and most notably, love.

Love—sometimes torturous, sometimes beautifully bittersweet—was the central theme of the Cohen-inspired theatre piece Chelsea Hotel at Firehall Arts.

Featuring a cast of six talented musicians, dancers, and actors, Chelsea Hotel delivers emotion, melodic dissonance, and the perfect amount of comic relief. Using Cohen’s lyrics to tell a story through  two halves, a simple set, costuming, and bold, effective theatrical choices, make the poetry come alive onstage, evoking emotion in the audience as well as the cast.

One of my favourite parts of the two hour show (don’t worry, there’s an intermission), was the choreography performed by the three female cast members. Calculated without being careful, the movements accompanied the lyrics perfectly. Raw and sexy without being over the top, these movements were contemporary without being too “dancey” thus not inhibiting people from enjoying the other elements of the show.

Alongside the dance, the musicality of all six cast members was definitely a highlight. Playing everything from drums, guitar, bass, and piano, to cello, violin, accordion, harmonica, and even kazoo, the cast is clearly extremely talented—a perfect match for the ever-celebrated Cohen. Playing all of the music live was the perfect fit for this Canadian musician and poet’s work. Adding to the purposeful drama, the music, along with the lyrics, carried the story, allowing the audience to be immersed in the experience with very few, very effectively placed and delivered lines.

Ultimately, the play was simple. With one set, very subtle costume changes, and scads and scads of balled up paper strewn about the stage to set the mood, nothing more was required to tell the story of Cohen’s many relationships—many of which we can see within ourselves.

Chelsea Hotel finally made me understand what my parent’s love about Cohen. The simplistic delivery of memorable lyrics allowed me to digest the meaning with the help of subtle choreography and amazing live music. I think I might just put on a Cohen record and hide from the rain for the rest of the weekend. You know where to find me.

Showing until March 29, head to the Firehall Arts to be inspired by the words of Cohen and the acting of a fabulously talented cast. Expect shivers, moments of awe, and even tears (if you’re the older lady in the back). More details about the show, cast, and ticketing can be found online. 

Two girls spreading rose petals lead the annual Women’s Memorial March this year. A group of elders proceeded behind them with their drums sounding. The march began with the intersection of East Hastings and Main Streets as the epicenter—overtaken with a women-led drum circle. Cable buses halted and marchers continued to gather. With the girls leading the march and the drum’s songs, a sense of togetherness and empowerment weaved through the hundreds of marchers. Something of this moment came back to me later that weekend, at Lauri Lyster’s The Drummer Girl.

Comprised of both live music and personal stories, The Drummer Girl showed at the Firehall Arts Center from February 12 to 22. It begins with Lyster starting percussion lessons as a tween and moves through her career as a female percussionist—from her music degree and to dive bars, to symphonies, abroad, and more. “Being a woman, that has informed everything about my career,” she told Burnaby Now about the show. “But it’s more generic than that. It’s about being a musician.”

While the show handles the issue of being a female musician and just being a musician in forthright and intelligent ways, it also has a propulsive sense of humour. In one of the storytelling interludes, she describes being a percussionist in an orchestra. She sits on a chair with a music stand before her and has the audience imagine that she is in the orchestra pit. She then reaches into her bag to retrieve a water bottle with a rope attached (as she fastens it to the music stand, she tells the audience this is a precaution since one got away from her on stage at symphony), several issues of People Magazine (for her forty-minute rests, she confesses), and her triangle.

The last thing an audience wants to do is make a sound during a symphony, but the audience laughed through Lyster’s entire reenactment of a percussionist’s role in an orchestra. It included about four triangle hits, two naps, a little celebrity gossip, and a deadpan conclusion from the percussionist after she silenced the triangle: “Yeah, I’m classically trained.”

Later in the show she reenacts another performance in which she forgot her cymbals and drumsticks and had to improvise with a wooden frame broken in two and a beer bucket. She literally brings out a beer bucket, snaps a stick in half on stage, and plays the song with her band as she had to that night.

She tells these stories—both the successful and the not so successful—with a combination of dignity and humour that is a pleasure to watch. As this was the third year she ran the show, we can hope that it will return to the stage again soon.

Check out other great shows coming up at Firehall Arts Centre.