Nostalgia meets the ghosts of memory in the funny, poignant, authentically human New Magic Valley Fun Town

Caroline Gillis, Andrew Moodie, Daniel MacIvor & Stephanie MacDonald. Set design by Brian Perchaluk. Costume design by Brenda McLean. Lighting design by Kimberly Purtell. Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann.

 

Prairie Theatre Exchange and Tarragon Theatre join forces to present the Toronto premiere of Daniel MacIvor’s New Magic Valley Fun Town, directed by Richard Rose, assisted by Audrey Dwyer; opening last night in the Tarragon Theatre Mainspace. Equal parts funny and poignant, it’s an authentically human story of nostalgia and ghosts of the past as the kitchen party reunion between two childhood friends reveals some unwelcome memories.

In small-town Nova Scotia, cancer survivor Dougie (Daniel MacIvor) lives in a spotless double-wide trailer, separated from his wife Cheryl (Caroline Gillis), who’s stayed in their family home in town. Their young adult daughter Sandy (Stephanie MacDonald) is on a break from her English lit thesis to manage some mental health issues. Dougie is anxiously awaiting the arrival of Allen (Andrew Moodie), a friend from childhood and one of the few Black residents of the town back in the day, who moved on to become an English professor at U of T.

Dougie and Allen haven’t seen each other for 35 years, and their reunion—initially rife with awkward excitement, vintage music, drinking and dancing—takes a dark turn as painful, secret memories emerge. Dougie is dealing with his sense of mortality and Allen needs to get something off his chest; and lifelong feelings of deep-seated anger, shame and longing bubble to the surface.

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Daniel MacIvor & Andrew Moodie. Set design by Brian Perchaluk. Costume design by Brenda McLean. Lighting design by Kimberly Purtell. Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann.

Beautiful performances from this ensemble, enacting a marathon of emotional experience and responses. MacIvor is a compelling, high-energy presence as the tightly wound Dougie; obsessively neat and wanting things to be perfect for Allen, Dougie appears to have channelled his nervous energy into preparations for the visit—but we learn that this behaviour pre-dates his cancer diagnosis, going back to adolescence. Moodie’s calm, introspective Allen is equally gripping; perfectly complementing the frenetic Dougie, the emotionally contained Allen is bursting with the buried feelings of distant, disturbing memories—memories that are excavated and brought to the surface during this fateful visit, and intersect with his experience of being Black in a small town.

Gillis is loveably quirky and as the cheerful, attentive Cheryl; a protective wife and mother who’s at a loss as to how to help her husband and daughter, her positive demeanour masks the pain within, and she finds solace and community in the local Catholic church. MacDonald gives a hilariously playful, irreverent and sweetly poignant performance as Sandy; a post-grad student with the heart of a poet, Sandy is navigating her own illness, even as she continues to reach out to connect with her ailing father.

The classic 70s vintage vibe of Brian Perchaluk’s set design and Don Benedictson’s original music and sound design (those of a certain age were singing along with the pre-show tunes) combine nicely with Brenda McLean’s modern-day costume design, and the realism and cathartic magic of Kim Purtell’s lighting.

Each of these characters is reaching out for connection from a place of profound aloneness. And, while the deeper meaning of the titular amusement park of childhood memory is revealed—not new, magic, a valley, fun or a town—there’s strength and resilience in the present, and hope for the future, as these characters move towards light and closure.

New Magic Valley Fun Town continues in the Tarragon Theatre Mainspace until March 31; get advance tickets online or contact the box office at 416-531-1827.

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Absurd, uncomfortable & ultimately human interactions in the darkly funny, unsettling Little Menace: Pinter Plays

Diego Matamoros, Alex McCooeye, Gregory Prest & Maev Beaty. Set & costume design by Shannon Lea Doyle. Lighting design by Simon Rossiter. Photo by Dahlia Katz.

 

Soulpepper opened its darkly funny, unsettling buffet of short Pinter plays at the Young Centre last night with Harold Pinter’s Little Menace: Pinter Plays, directed by Thomas Moschopoulos; and featuring 10 short pieces played out in 14 scenes over the course of 90 minutes. The short, pointed examinations of human interaction are at times absurd, uncomfortable and even surreal—and, in the end, ultimately human.

Little Menace: Pinter Plays features Trouble in the Works, Last to Go, Special Offer, That’s Your Trouble, New World Order, Victoria Station, Apart from That, The Press Conference, The Basement and Night; New World Order appears twice, switching up the actors and the scenario, and Apart from That is played out in four variations, aptly bookending the performance. The impressive four-member ensemble includes Maev Beaty, Diego Matamoros, Alex McCooeye and Gregory Prest.

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Alex McCooeye & Gregory Prest. Set & costume design by Shannon Lea Doyle. Lighting design by Simon Rossiter. Photo by Dahlia Katz.

Ranging from the bizarre in the hilarious mundanity of the workplace in Trouble in the Works (played with bang-on dead pan and impressive articulation by Matamoros and Prest) and the unlikely but tempting weirdness of Special Offer (a wry, incredulous Beaty, playing a high-level professional); to the sharply funny failures to communicate in Apart from That (all four actors, in four different pairings of beautifully awkward, polite exchanges where no one really says anything) and the ‘Who’s on First’ vibe between dispatcher and taxi driver in Victoria Station (Matamoros as the gruff dispatcher at his wit’s end and McCooeye as the child-like, simple driver), Little Menace highlights the awkwardness and missed connections in our day-to-day communication.

The discomfiting scenarios of personal and political dominance in The Basement (ensemble), the menace of terrible things to come in New World Order (McCooeye and Prest in a thuggish turn that goes from darkly funny to plain dark when they switch up roles and include Matamoros as a hostage in the second incarnation), and the sharply funny satire of a civil servant working in the culture sector in Press Conference (featuring a chilling matter-of-fact Matamoros as the civil servant) look at the darker sides of human connection. And the lovely nostalgia of Night highlights how even cherished reminiscences between a loving couple (Beaty and Matamoros, in a beautifully quiet, intimate performance) can be mixed up or forgotten altogether.

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Diego Matamoros & Maev Beaty. Set & costume design by Shannon Lea Doyle. Lighting design by Simon Rossiter. Photo by Dahlia Katz.

Stellar, compelling performances from the ensemble in this intimate, often raw series of short plays—showcasing the range of the talent on stage in performances of authentic nuance and intense rawness. Nicely supported by the sharply modern, sterile—open concept, yet claustrophobic—set and neutral grayscale of the costumes (both designed by Shannon Lea Doyle); and Simon Rossiter’s shadow-casting, modern aesthetic, sometimes intensely interrogative, lighting design.

What’s real? What’s true? What the hell is going on? Even in the most everyday, mundane situations, we’re a strange lot; and there’s a lot that goes on between the lines and in those awkward silences as we get caught up in our own fears and the various eccentricities of our inner worlds. And that’s a huge part of what makes us human.

Little Menace: Pinter Plays continues at the Young Centre until March 10; advance tickets available online, or by calling the box office at 416-866-8666 or 1-888-898-1188.

 

A photo album of family, love & memento mori in the profoundly moving, nostalgic, candid Dividing Lines/Líneas Divisorias

Beatriz Pizano & Julia (projected photo). Scenography by Trevor Schwellnus, with associate lighting designer Rebecca Vandevelde. Costume design by Andjelija Djuric. Photo by Jeremy Mimnagh.

 

“They say blood is thicker than water —
I say, love is thicker than blood.”

Aluna Theatre premieres Beatriz Pizano’s Dividing Lines/Líneas Divisorias, a photo album of family, love and memento mori; written and performed by Pizano, and created with director Trevor Schwellnus and composer/sound designer Brandon Miguel Valdivia, and running now at The Theatre Centre.

Losing her mother when she was a toddler, Pizano was adopted by her Aunt Julia and Uncle Jorge after her “Marlboro Man” father took off, leaving her and her two siblings behind—and a deep and lasting connection evolved with her new parents. Years later, after Pizano has moved to Canada, when an aged, widowed Julia drifts away in a lost, confused haze of dementia, she keeps her promise, returning home again and again to be with Julia during her “Calvary.” Weaving a personal history of distant and recent past—from her years growing up with Julia in Columbia to travelling back and forth from Canada during Julia’s final years, to and from hospital and nursing home; Pizano shifts from romantic nostalgia to harsh, heartbreaking life and death reality. And then, a chance meeting with a doctor at the nursing home—there to perform euthanasia on another patient—and an act of love, mercy and personal sacrifice to make a decision for a loved one who is unable to do so.

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Beatriz Pizano. Scenography by Trevor Schwellnus, with associate lighting designer Rebecca Vandevelde. Costume design by Andjelija Djuric. Photo by Jeremy Mimnagh.

Incorporating photographs and props, projected on a row of overlapping burlap legs that flare out and merge together on the floor, we see an evolving collage of life and family—from the broad strokes of wide-ranging world events to the God-is-in-the-details moments and wisdom of shared lives. The storytelling, relayed in English and sometimes Spanish, is visually rich; full of a lust for life, liberty and equality; and resonating with the music of childhood and the revolution—and, ultimately, with hope and closure. Pizano gives us a deeply personal, candid, raw and romantic—at times interactive—performance; balanced with a cheeky sense of irreverence where religion is concerned, and a revolutionary bohemian spirit when it comes to class and politics.

Part personal memory play, part confessional, part memorial, Dividing Lines/Líneas Divisorias reminds us that the one thing that’s certain in life—and we all have in common—is that we die. What would you do for a loved one who’s lost to the world, incapacitated and in pain—to set them free?

Dividing Lines/Líneas Divisorias is in its final week, closing on December 2. Advance tickets available online or by calling The Theatre Centre’s Box Office at 416-538-0988.

Check out this CBC piece on Dividing Lines/Líneas Divisorias, including Matt Galloway’s interview with Beatriz Pizano on Metro Morning.

The bittersweet rhythms of life in the wistful, nostalgic, entertaining Dancing at Lughnasa

Opening its 2018-19 season at Alumnae Theatre last night, the Toronto Irish Players take us to 1936 Donegal, and the rural home of the Mundy family as they struggle with life, love and changing times, in their wistful, nostalgic and entertaining production of Brian Friel’s Dancing at Lughnasa, directed by David Eden.

A bittersweet memory play, we’re hosted by narrator Michael (Enda Reilly), who was raised by his single mother, spirited, irreverent Christina (Lauren McGinty) and her four sisters. Their parents dead, the eldest resident sibling and local school teacher, the prim and proper Kate (Erin Jones) is the de facto matriarch; family clown Maggie (Rebecca De La Cour) looks after the small family farm; and the quiet Agnes (Donna O’Regan) and simple-minded Rose (Áine Donnelly) earn money by knitting gloves.

The return of their brother Father Jack (Ian McGarrett), sent home from his mission in Uganda by his superiors, both causes and coincides with significant changes in their lives and position in their home village of Ballybeg—especially lending truth to the rumour that Jack was dismissed for “going native” and adapting, in the eyes of the Catholic Church, a too familiar and accepting attitude of local custom and ritual. Industrialization is catching up with rural Ireland, and factory-made goods are putting handwork at risk. Ongoing, if not sporadic, visits from Michael’s father Gerry (Sean Gilheany), a Welsh wanderer turned gramophone salesman, give the family—especially Christina and Michael—rare and welcome glimpses of the possibility of hope for something better; and a brief respite from the dullness of their workaday lives and the stresses of making ends meet during the Depression.

The family’s individual and collective history is both merry and melancholy; and lives are forever changed by forces largely beyond their control. And while Michael acknowledges the hard times of struggle, sacrifice and loss, he takes heart from the good times the family shared together—the love, laughter and dancing around the Marconi wireless. The rhythms of life, love and changing times.

Lovely work from the cast in creating this intimate family story. Reilly’s Michael makes for an affable and animated host; and he’s especially adept at conjuring the wide-eyed, precocious and imaginative child Michael. De La Cour is a treat as the feisty jokester Maggie; using humour to cheer and diffuse tension, her glass-half-full perspective is also crucial to her own survival. O’Regan and Donnelly have a beautiful rapport as the BFF sisters, the unassuming, protective Agnes and the child-like, naive Rose, who both come to show there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to notions of romance. McGinty gives a well-rounded performance as the conflicted young mother Christina; the family beauty, and raising the love child of a man she hardly ever sees, Christina’s youth has been interrupted by the more pragmatic concerns of a single mother—and in a time and place that frowned upon women like her. In classic Irish matriarch fashion, Jones’s Kate says as much with a look or gesture as she does with a word; having missed on romance herself, Kate’s stern disposition also a masks a broken heart.

McGarrett gives a poignant performance as the sisters’ brother Father Jack; once the golden boy of the family and the village, Jack has returned, frail and barely recognizable, and hardly knowing his own hometown. And Gilheany gives a charming turn as Gerry; a man of the road who loves to love, Gerry means well, but has trouble with the follow-up.

With shouts to the design team for their evocative work in transporting us to this nostalgic Depression-era world of memory and family in rural Donegal, Ireland: Chandos Ross (set), Livia Pravato (costumes), Karlos Griffith (lighting) and Dan Schaumann (sound).

Dancing at Lughnasa continues on the Alumnae Theatre Mainstage until November 3; advance tickets available online or by calling 416-440-2888. Keep up with The Irish Players on Facebook and Twitter.

Soul reviving human connection in the entertaining, engaging, enlightening Pearle Harbour’s Chautauqua

Justin Miller as Pearle Harbour, with Steven Conway in the background. Production design by Joseph Pagnan, with tent by Haley Reap. Lighting design by Jareth Li. Photo by Dahlia Katz.

 

Pearle Harbour invites you into the milky folds of her tent for some soul reviving human connection in the engaging, entertaining, enlightening Pearle Harbour’s Chautauqua, written and performed by Justin Miller, accompanied by Steven Conway and directed by Byron Laviolette. The sold-out SummerWorks 2017 Audience Choice Award-winning show returns to its home base at Theatre Passe Muraille as it opens TPM’s 2018-19 season.

As you’re ushered into the Mainspace through the stage door and walk towards the tent, you pass various collections of objects from another time and place; an acoustic guitar, a vintage typewriter, wooden crates. There’s a bar, too, just before you get to the opening of the tent; and Conway is there with your seating assignment. Finding your bench to sit inside the tent, you see text stencilled on each wall: SPEAK TRUTH, LIVE PURE, RIGHT THE WRONG, FOLLOW THE WAY. Three strings of Edison bulbs hang from the ceiling; and you can hear fiddle music and a man’s voice speaking—poetry, philosophy?

Our hostess joins us, singing “Come on Up to the House” as she enters, accompanied by Conway on acoustic guitar. A sassy redheaded all-American wartime tragicomedienne, Pearle proceeds to lead us through a rousing, enlightening experience of connection and redemption as she takes us through each of the four pillars of Chautauqua (the words stencilled on the walls of the tent). Acknowledging that things are rough out there in the world, but having faith in “people power” and joining together, Pearle is no clueless Pollyanna. She gives it to us frank and candid, in a gentle, respectful interactive space—and always with the hope and belief that people can change the world.

A hilarious and poignant storyteller and rabble-rouser—true to his drag alter ego Pearle—Miller engages and entertains; touching on universal truths in an intimate, focused yet relaxed way that invites us all to be present, grounded and breathing throughout. The vintage props, puppetry and Creamsicle sing-song reminiscences are more than mere exercises in nostalgia or fond souvenirs of simpler times; they’re a meditation of sorts. A reminder to go back once in a while, to remember who you really are—that individual spirit you may have lost along the way in this hi-tech, fast-paced, ever changing workaday world. And that one flickering light bulb highlights that, no matter how hard you try to make things perfect, we live in an imperfect world—and we’re all imperfect or broken in some way. We’ve all done things that were less than kind, that we may regret. And while that admission can be infuriating, embarrassing and guilt-inducing, we can be better and we can let go.

When was the last time you sang or heard “One Tin Soldier”? The last time you had a Creamsicle? What takes you back to who you were all those years ago?

Part revival, part enlightening cabaret, Pearle Harbour’s Chautauqua invites us in and embraces us—valuing the spectrum of humanity and shining a light on that which unites us. It’s just the thing we need right now. Come on in and join Pearle in the tent.

Pearle Harbour’s Chautauqua continues in the TPM Mainspace until October 27; please note the 7:30 p.m. curtain time for evening performances. Should you book in advance to avoid disappointment? You betcha! Get advance tickets online or by calling the box office at: 416-504-7529.

The run includes a post-show Q&A, usually hosted by Jivesh Parasram, with cast and crew on October 14; and a pre-show chat, hosted by AD Andy McKim, with a cast member or local expert at 6:45 p.m. on October 17.

In the meantime, take a gander at the trailer:

 

 

Playfully whimsical, profoundly poignant & sharply candid ruminations in Dawna J. Wightman’s honey be

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Dawna J. Wightman. Photo by Vince Lupo.

 

Montreal-born Dawna J. Wightman is an award-winning Toronto-based actor, playwright and writer. Toronto audiences will recognize Wightman from her solo show Life as a Pomegranate, as well as Yellow Birds (Alumnae Theatre’s FireWorks Festival, 2015) and A Mickey Full of Mouse (Buddies in Bad Times Theatre, 2016 and Toronto Fringe, 2017). She’s currently working on adapting her unpublished dark fantasy novel A Yarn of Bone & Paper, based on her ebook: Faeries Real & Imagined: How to Create Magical Adventures for Very Young Children, into a feature film. She’s also working with director Theresa Kowall-Shipp on her short Kid Gloves, set to shoot November 2018.

As part of the funding process for Kid Gloves, Wightman self-published and sold honey be, “a collection of sweet words and some that sting,” including hand-painted covers and “surprises” stuffed inside. The first 50-volume print run sold out in about a week; and a second run will be available this month, featuring cover art design by Wightman’s daughter Sabine Spare.

Much like Wightman’s theatre work, the stories, poems and snippets in honey be range from playfully whimsical to profoundly poignant to sharply candid—often all in the same story and sometimes autobiographical in nature. While there are no titles, each piece bears an italicized post-script at the end; in some cases, these take on a conversational and even self-deprecating tone, making for a personal, intimate read.

The themes of family, motherhood and friendship come up in several pieces. There’s the story about Mrs. Kay, written from the perspective of a precocious, neglected eight-year-old who finds a home with fellow misfit schoolmate Sandra Kay and her quirky family; and the goofy four-legged family member Bella in just a dog. Reminders that family can sometimes be found in unexpected places—and to never judge a book by its cover.

There’s heart-wrenching nostalgia with an ode to her son in little boy; and remembrances of wearing an itchy baby blue Phentex dress and being her mother’s go-fer at the bingo hall, in pretty little head. And the heartache and fumbling for what to say to a friend living with cancer tumble out in the visceral when we found out you had cancer and in the outpouring of loving, supportive words in the piece that follows.

Ruminations on body image and aging come up as well, from the erotic in late summer, to the sharply candid and calling bullshit on the ridiculous expectations placed on women’s bodies—professionally and personally—in tits and ass and #chubbyprettywoman, and the #MeToo shock of new neighbour.

Quirky, bittersweet, child-like grown-up, all of the stories in honey be are tinged with humour and poignancy, and the everyday acknowledgement of life’s remarkable moments. And one gets the sense that, beyond coming from a place of truth telling—there’s a deep longing to share these words. There’s a line in the movie Shadowlands, from a C.S. Lewis quote: “We read to know we are not alone”—one could easily also say “We write to let others know they are not alone.”

Copies of honey be will be available for $20.00 via emailing wightrabiit@gmail.com; website coming soon. Wightman will be performing a reading from the book at Stratford’s SpringWorks Festival on October 11.

 

SummerWorks: Memory, nostalgia & queer men longing to connect in the quirky, charming, poignant Box 4901

Thirteen letters responding to a 1992 gay personals ad sit in a box unanswered. What does the recipient say to these men 26 years later? Memory, nostalgia, connection and hindsight figure prominently in timeshare productions’ SummerWorks presentation of novelist Brian Francis’ autobiographical Box 4901; directed by Rob Kempson and running on the Theatre Centre’s Incubator stage.

Long before the age of smartphones and Grindr, a 21-year-old Francis—then a student at the University of Western Ontario—posted a personals ad in The London Free Press looking for a connection in the small LGBTQ world of conservative London, Ontario. Of the approximately two dozen letters he received, 13 went unanswered and were discovered years later. Francis narrates and responds as 13 queer actors perform each letter.

Featuring actors Bilal Baig, Hume Baugh, Keith Cole, Izad Etemadi, Daniel Krolik, Michael Hughes, Tsholo Khalema, Eric Morin, G Kyle Shields, Chy Ryan Spain, Jonathan Tan, Chris Tsujiuchi and Geoffrey Whynot, the responses to the ad range from the bashful to the pornographic. Coming from a variety of men—ranging in age from high school senior to father figure—from various walks of life (“regular guy,” teacher, farmer, jock, “straight-acting,” leather community), the letters are sassy, charming, eloquent and humourous. The replies are frank, witty, sharply observational; and tempered with kindness, and the hindsight of age and wisdom.

There are some missed chances and missed bullets. All of these men share the same desire to reach out; longing for connection and a cure for aloneness, there’s a vulnerable authenticity in even the cockiest of responses. And the fear of being outed to family or housemates is as palpable and strong as the excitement and anticipation of a new connection.

Box 4901 has one more SummerWorks performance at the Theatre Centre on Aug 19 at 4:45 p.m.; it’s already sold out, but you can try your luck by arriving early to see if there are any no-shows.