Speaking to us via video from a small monitor mounted in front of a masked “surrogate” performer’s face, Clark gives a multimedia talking head performance—and the surrogate provides accompanying posture and hand gestures.
Going from riffs on parking at home in front of our screens, especially on Netflix, Clark shifts to the more up close and personal experience of travelling to his girlfriend’s hometown to arrange her father’s funeral over the Christmas holiday. Weaving death, family and small-town Alberta into the storytelling, Clark’s storytelling reveals a gift for sharp observation and a quirky sense of curiosity, making for a funny and at times poignant ride.
Trippy good times as philosophy meets stand-up meets storytelling in Graham Clark’s Not Here.
Graham Clark’s Not Here continues in the TPM Backspace until July 15; book in advance for this one, guys-last night was sold out. Book online on the showpage or get to the TPM box office early.
Combining storytelling, improv and performance art, McGee gets us from the get go. Dressed in a bright orange vintage dress and wearing a bleach blonde wig, she’s a woman on a mission. She’s invited us to the theatre to celebrate her man’s birthday—and be his first major standup audience. Checking in with stage manager Robin (Munro), and making the rounds to ensure that everyone’s had their shot of vodka, she’s a flurry of super planning activity. And as we sit waiting in the dark for his arrival, she explains what will happen and we get ourselves ready to welcome him.
He’s running late, so the lights come up and we get some history. Her ever alert ear on the door, pricked by any possible sound of entry, she tells us how this engineer/amateur comic caught her attention. He made her laugh. And she really needed that. She finds it difficult to commit and—navigating emotional highs and lows on medication—we hear about how she made herself fit into the relationship so she could keep it.
Of course, things went astray. When he finally does arrive (the ex-boyfriend is played by a different actor each night), things don’t go exactly as planned—and even fantasy can betray. But there’s mini-cupcakes.
McGee is a powerhouse of storytelling and entertainment, connecting with us in this immersive space. Conveying focus that shifts from razor sharp to scattered, a fragile psyche, and an endless capacity to feel hope and despair, she gives a quirky, genuine performance that is both entertaining and poignant. Touching on issues of relationships, mental health and obsession, I’m Doing This For You highlights the difference between needing and wanting a romantic partnership, and how we can be really attracted to something about someone even when we’re not that into them. And the crazy things we all do to maintain or avoid intimacy, and the regrets and after thoughts that go through our minds when it’s over. This woman is a super kooky, fun gal who’s seriously derailed herself—and we really come to care about her during this 65-minute journey.
With shouts to lighting/set/props designer Shannon Lea Doyle for the trippy performance art set, full of white and transparent balloons. Combined with McGee’s retro costume, the design is a flashback to Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In (for those of us old enough to remember that sketch comedy show).
Big surprise romantic gestures, coming together and falling apart in the endearing, fragile, funny I’m Doing This For You.
I’m Doing This For You continues in the Michael Young Theatre in the Young Centre till this Saturday (May 6); this show is for adults aged 19+ (proof of age required) and booking in advance is strongly recommended. Get your advance tix online or by calling the box office at 416-866-8666.
Still in mourning over her parents’ unusual and unexpected death, Matilde (Marina Moreira) moves from Brazil to Connecticut, where she becomes a live-in maid to doctors Lane (Andrea Irwin) and Charles (Neil Silcox). Thing is, she hates cleaning; it makes her sad. An aspiring comedian, and the child of two very funny people, she’s striving for the perfect joke. Things lighten up for Matilde when Lane’s older sister Virginia (Annemieke Wade) makes an odd request: she wants to clean her sister’s house. Virginia loves to clean and needs something to do, and Matilde hates cleaning and needs more time to make up jokes—so they make a secret arrangement.
When Virginia and Matilde discover women’s underwear in the laundry that can’t possibly be Lane’s, they suspect that Charles is having an affair. Their suspicions are soon validated when it comes out that Charles has fallen in love with Ana (Lilia Leon), who was one of his surgical patients. From there, Charles’ two worlds collide in unexpected—often moving and hilarious—ways.
There’s a great theatricality to The Clean House, with cultures and lives meeting in delightfully wacky and quirky ways. All of Matilde’s jokes are told in Portuguese; and all the characters break the fourth wall at various points to speak to the audience directly. Scenes happening elsewhere play out in and around the pristine, white living room. There’s a space for projected surtitles at the top of the bookshelf, which don’t provide translation of Portuguese, but subtext for the proceedings. On the raised platform playing area down left, we see flashbacks and imagined scenes play out (with Silcox and Leon also playing Matilde’s parents), as well as scenes on Ana’s apartment balcony (shouts to Orly Zebak’s set design).
Fantastic work from the ensemble on this journey. Moreira is a treat as Matilde, the maid who longs to be a comedian, and who bears witness to the topsy-turvy events unfolding in her employers’ household. Feisty and determined, and despite her sadness over her parents’ death, Matilde’s mind is laser-focused on concocting the perfect joke—but, knowing the power of such a thing, she fears the impact it may have.
Irwin is hysterically imperious as the uptight Lane; a well-respected doctor in a hospital, her tightly wound fastidiousness isn’t without its own quirks—while she feels entitled to have someone cleaning her house, she’s uncomfortable giving orders about it. Wade is a riot as Lane’s sister Virginia; neurotic and compulsively fixated on cleanliness, housekeeping is her happy place. Though Virginia is sick and tired of Lane’s attitude, she’s nevertheless a loving and supportive sister. It’s family, so you deal.
Silcox is adorably goofy as Charles; a surgeon with the heart of a poet and a dreamer, he found he couldn’t help but fall in love—Ana is his soulmate, so it’s out of his control. Sweet and loyal in his way, he struggles to make this transition as amicable as possible for everyone involved. Leon has a lovely, almost ethereal quality as Ana; strong-willed and outspoken, Ana has never liked doctors, but couldn’t help herself with Charles. And she’s bound and determined that the path her life takes be of her own choosing.
Crazy LOL love and the power of the perfect joke in the quirky, poignant, hilarious The Clean House.
The Clean House continues in the Alumnae Mainspace until April 22; advance tix available online or available at the box office one hour before show time (cash only). This production features some free pre- and post-show events, including:
Pre-show workshop Thurs, April 20:Laughter and Forgiveness with Lynn Himmelman. Lynn will lead participants through a few fun, simple exercises and share the healing role that laughter has played in her own life. This complimentary pre-show workshop offers audiences the opportunity to further explore The Clean House’s themes of healing and the power of comedy.
Check out the trailer for The Clean House courtesy of Neil Silcox & Ali Joy Richardson:
Coming up for Alumnae Theatre: Look out for Alumnae’s 2017-18 season, when the company will be celebrating its 100th birthday; the oldest women-run theatre in North America and the oldest theatre company in Toronto.
Back row: Neil Nicholas Kulin, Rob Neilly, Ana Gonzalez, Christopher Wakelin & Drew Smylie. Front row: Kory Preston, Len Henderson, Paula Wilkie, Konstance Koutoulakis & Charlie Parker-Patel in Tons of Money—photo by Thomas Kowal
Took a trip out to Scarborough last night for a sneak peek preview of the final dress rehearsal of Scarborough Players’ production of Tons of Money, written by Will Evans and Valentine, and adapted by Alan Ayckbourn. Directed by Jeremy Henson, Tons of Money opens at the Scarborough Village Theatre tonight.
Set in 1926 in the library of an English country house at Marlow, inventor Aubrey Allington (Christopher Wakelin) and wife Louise (Konstance Koutoulakis) are merrily carrying on their slapdash lives while mired in some serious debt; Aubrey has invented a new explosive material that he’s sure will make them millions, so he’s not worried. Then they receive word from lawyer James Chesterman (Kory Preston) that Aubrey’s brother has died, leaving Aubrey a large amount of cash in his will; in the event of Aubrey’s death, the inheritance will pass to his cousin George Maitland, who is believed to be dead but not conclusively. To avoid having all the inheritance go to their creditors, Louise hatches a plan for Aubrey to fake his death in a workshop explosion and miraculously return a few weeks later as cousin George and claim the cash.
Meanwhile, the Allingtons’ skulking butler Sprules (Drew Smylie) and watchful maid Simpson (Ana Gonzalez) are hatching a scheme of their own involving Sprules’ brother Henery (Len Henderson). And the Allingtons’ plan gets complicated with the appearance of Louise’s friend Jean (Charlie Parker-Patel), who has been secretly married to cousin George! Throw in the ongoing appearances of hard of hearing Aunt Benita (Paula Wilkie), lovesick gardener Giles (Rob Neilly) and a surprise third act arrival (Neil Nicholas Kulin), and you’ve got even more wacky, hilarious good times. And, of course, all hell breaks loose as secret plots and disguises collide.
The cast gives us a rip roaring good time—and they look like they’re having a blast. Koutoulakis (the fiery, strong-willed Louise) and Wakelin (the absent-minded, laissez faire Aubrey) have great chemistry and sense of chaotic fun as the Allingtons. Wilkie is a treat as Aunt Benita; constantly in search of her misplaced knitting, Benita’s not as dotty as she appears, and emerges as one of the sharpest minds in the room. Parker-Patel is the picture of the 1920s lady of leisure as the romantic, dreamy Jean; and Neilly brings bits of subtle, well-timed comedy to the heartbroken gardener Giles.
With shouts to the design team for the fabulous roaring 20s English country house meets art deco vibe: Greg Nowlan and Katherine Turner (set design), Katherine Turner and Jeremy Henson (set décor), Andra Bradish (costumes), Jennifer Bakker (lighting) and Sidnei Auler (sound). Great, fun staging elements in the silent film sequence off the top and the vaudevillian cowbell sound effect highlighting the gags.
Silly, half-baked schemes and fake identities abound in the charming, farcical Tons of Money.
Written and performed by Cullen and Johnson, who also collaborated on the lyrics, with music by Johnson, Stupidhead! is a part musical, part stand-up, part personal storytelling journey of Cullen’s experience living with dyslexia.
Stupidhead! is Cullen’s childhood dream of being in a musical come true. And, despite her lack of training, experience and self-reported ability, she was determined to make it happen; and recruited her good friend Johnson to help her write the music. Johnson joins her onstage, accompanying her on piano and back-up vocals—reacting to Cullen’s performance throughout, sometimes cracking up along with the audience.
Pointing out that dyslexia affects people differently, Cullen has no trouble with reading and writing—and as a child enjoyed escaping into writing poetry, and stories about the adventures of a silly koala and rabbit. Diagnosed at a young age, Cullen relates her struggles with math, organizational skills and directions, finding herself mentally lost at school and physically lost in her own neighbourhood—and, above all, labelled. And that label put her in the position of having to deal with ignorance and lack of compassion from others, making her sense of otherness feel even more isolating and humiliating, and becoming a part of her identity.
Her anecdotes about trying to fit in are both hilarious and moving—from her grade three poetry contest nemesis (now a CFL football player), to being lost on her own street, to two weeks in a puppet camp in Vermont as a young adult and her love of Jesus Christ Superstar—all delivered with genuine feeling and gusto. While it’s a show about the “glamour of failure,” it’s also a show about throwing off the chains of shame and isolation. In the end, Cullen avoids tying it up neatly, but emerges from the darker moments of her experience into a place of hope and determination.
Cullen shines onstage. An engaging, genuine and charming performer, she’s gutsy and kick-ass, but also vulnerable and fragile. As she schools us on dyslexia, she gives us the straight goods about what it’s like to live inside her head. And she gives ‘er with the music, putting her all into performing the songs, from belted out numbers to gentle, heartfelt ballads. She and Johnson make a terrific duo. Johnson is pretty damn funny herself; and there’s a lovely tender moment of compassion and understanding between them that rings with friendship and love. And their anthem of “don’t give up!” brought tears to my eyes.
With big shouts to set designer Anahita Dehbonehie and lighting designer Jennifer Lennon for the cool and beautiful neurosciencey environment.
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll sing along in your heart with the brilliant, hilarious and deeply poignant Stupidhead!
Through anecdotes, and thoughtful, sharply funny riffs and musings, Shamas takes us on a personal history tour of life after 50. Having made it to the top of Menopause Mountain—and leaving alcohol, caffeine and memory behind—Shamas enjoys and explores the brave new world of post-menopause as she tears down the assumptions and expectations that render invisible women ‘of a certain age.’ There’s a new sense of clarity, relief and release as menopause burnishes and tempers to an authentic self—and the sheer joy of giving no f*cks.
The storytelling is hilariously entertaining, fierce and fiery at times, and empowering. Self-deprecation blends with cockiness as she revels in being able to bypass the feminine protection aisle at the drug store only to notice the adult diapers at the end of that aisle. Thanks to a strength of will, and not taking “No” or “That’s just the way it is” for an answer, Shamas displays pioneering spirit and grit at her farm house home during bathtub shitmageddon and the 2013 ice storm, as she relates of how she had to dig to find the septic tank, and chop wood for heat and cooking. And was reminded of the beauty of everyday things we take for granted like electricity and a shower—and experiences the depths of gratitude when these became available again. Wrapping the first half, she tells us: she may have been without electricity, but she wasn’t without power.
Pondering issues of identity—and what that looks like after 50—Shamas relates a childhood in a conservative, traditional family where, as a girl, the only thing she was expected to be was good; and how a life-changing trip to the theatre to see Lily Tomlin perform her one-woman show set her on this path of sharing and storytelling. Shows that are snapshots of life at each stage, as she is and what she’s experiencing—and not from some brochure at a checkout counter. Covering topics from retirement, to sexuality, to dating on Tinder and OkCupid, Shamas is frank, unapologetic, genuine and laugh out loud funny.
Finishing with a reflection on all the late bloomer moments in her life, she also considers how, as a farmer who grows food for herself and others, she’s come to learn that seeds will only grow under specific conditions. Everything in its good time, under the right circumstances; so there really are no late bloomers. A reminder that we can all be our authentic selves—and we don’t necessarily have to wait for ‘the change’ to get there.
Taking a trip to the other side of Menopause Mountain and giving no f*cks in the hilarious, frank and inspiring The Big ‘What Now?’
The Big ‘What Now?’ continues at the Fleck Dance Theatre—good news, it’s been held over an extra week until February 19; get your advance tix online. This is an extremely popular show and place was packed last night, so advance booking is strongly recommended.
Clique Claque takes us to 1880s Paris, where we meet Madame Clothilde, aka the Chef de Claque (Michelle Langille), and her husband Yannick (Robert Clarke), who run a group of professional clappers paid to manipulate audience response to theatrical performances. They can turn a bad play into a smash hit and mediocre actors into stars. Their ingénue employee Clemantine (Thalia Kane) may seem to be the picture of naiveté and innocence, but she’s a veteran of the game; though all is not well for her.
Enter young Victor (Victor Pokinko), a one-time music prodigy and current out of work musician, newly arrived from Canada, and looking for inspiration and a job. The Claque takes him on and he proceeds with his education, and in more ways than one. As he becomes instrumental in the Claque’s plan to overthrow an opposing gang of audience influencers—a group called the Clique, led by mature student Dubosc (Ron Kennell), who brutally heckle bad performances—Victor finds he may be in for more than he bargained for. Ultimately, he must choose between what is true and right, and the bitch goddess Fame.
Incorporating some cheeky but gentle audience participation, Clique Claque is an entertaining and engaging show, featuring a stand-out cast. Langille is mesmerizing as Clothilde, the seductive mistress of manipulation. Good cop to husband Yannick’s decidedly bad cop, she may be the wife in the marriage, but one gets the distinct impression that it’s she who wears the pants. Clarke is the villain you love to hate as devilishly devious, cynical and thuggish as Yannick; he represents the dark, seedy underbelly of the Claque’s endeavours, while Clothilde brings the illusion of respectable professionalism.
As Clemantine, Kane brings some lovely layering and conflict; a young woman of some experience, she knows the harshness of the world too well and feels trapped in the Claque. There’s a lost, wistful sense of longing for something better. Pokinko’s Victor is a great combination of wide-eyed innocent and game lad; disillusioned with the world of art himself, he starts out just wanting to eat, but finds himself seduced by the prospect of money and fame. Kennell’s Dubosc is a sophisticated picture of art and academe. A man with a quick, wry wit and unexpected talents, Dubosc is a fierce crusader with a deep appreciation of the good life and that which is beautiful, especially beautiful young men.
With shouts to Nina Okens for the stunning period costumes.
Opposing forces battle for supremacy in the underworld of audience influence in the diabolically charming Clique Claque.