Carlin was in her mid-teens and I was in my early 20s when we first met, both students at Theatre Aquarius Summer Theatre School in Hamilton, Ontario during the mid-80s—and I remember being struck by her focus, maturity and talent. An old, creative soul, she was already writing songs that were melodic, poignant and catchy; revealing a deep sense of empathy for and sharp observation of the human condition. We bonded over growing up in Burlington (aka “Borington”), a shared irreverent sense of humour, and a mutual love of music and theatre.
Carlin and I reconnected a couple of years ago, through our mutual friend Lizzie Violet. She’d been living in Toronto, writing, recording and performing her songs, a singer/songwriter working as a barista to pay the rent. Her creative spirit had branched out to include making amazingly detailed crocheted creations: figures from horror, sci-fi and fantasy, which she sold, along with more traditional crocheted fashions, via Unravelled Crochet. I had the pleasure of interviewing her about her crochet work at the beginning of this year.
Throughout her illness, Carlin kept on making things: hats, scarves and mittens—many of which she made especially for or gave to friends. It kept her busy while she was in hospital, keeping the cabin fever at bay while she stayed positive and hopeful that she’d soon be able to return to her new apartment and a job she loved at Birds and Beans Coffee. I will always cherish the green and grey striped hat she gave me.
An extremely talented, kind and generous soul, Carlin had an open heart, a creative mind, and a twinkle in her eye with an arch of a brow that accompanied a mischievous grin. Cancer took Carlin from us—gone way too soon, she was so loved and will be profoundly missed. I picture her on a tropical beach, riding a unicorn named Hope.
The evening opened with the whimsically playful sounds of Matt Gerber, whose delightful tunes borrow from folk, barber shop and pop—from songs for kids for all ages, to sweet and nostalgic romantic musings. Gerber had us singing along with his acoustic set, accompanying himself on guitar and ukulele, punctuated by kazoo and some impressive harmonica chops. Give Gerber a listen, and check out upcoming dates, on his website.
Shining with positivity and poignant at times, Angela Saini both moved and entertained with genuine, heartfelt, and sometimes cheeky, observations of life, love and self-image in a pop-inspired acoustic set. And I dare you to not smile, sing along and tap your feet to her upbeat, energetic sounds. Keep up with Saini’s music, merch and gig dates on her website.
Main attraction Melanie Peterson more than lived up to her “Mary Poppins with a broken heart” reputation, treating us to a selection of folk-infused songs from her earliest recordings to her new release in an acoustic guitar set accompanied by Peter Collins on bass. The lyrics and vocals are melancholy, but hopeful, resilient and determined through heartbreak; and full of gratitude and joy in love. Combining cheer with heartache—sometimes with hilarious results (the tequila song)—Peterson’s sounds get real with the warmth and gentleness of a good long-time friend; all delivered with her signature sweet, lilting vocals.
“Christmas Breaks My Heart” offers a rarely heard take on the holiday season—not always a joyful time for some—acknowledging the loss, grief and wistful nostalgia of missing that someone special by your side. Check out the lyric video; and wrap your ears around Peterson’s catalogue and videos.
Allegra Fulton & Alexander Thomas. Set design by Anna Treusch. Costume design by Michelle Bohn. Lighting design by Steve Lucas. Photo by Dahlia Katz.
Coal Mine Theatre opened its Toronto premiere of Stephen Adly Guirgis’s Between Riverside and Crazy to a packed house at its home on Toronto’s Danforth Avenue last night. Directed by Kelli Fox, the intimately staged storytelling plays in the gray areas of family and the legal system as a widowed retired NYPD cop holds firm in his bid for justice while being a father figure to a strange and diverse assortment of adults both in his home and on the job. Highlighting issues of politics, government, race and racism, Between Riverside and Crazy reveals, with candor and humour, a world where everyone is hustling and everybody lies.
Widowed retired NYPD cop Walter “Pops” Washington (Alexander Thomas) lives in a sweet rent-controlled apartment on New York City’s Riverside Drive, which he’s currently sharing with his son Junior (Jai Jai Jones), recently released from jail; Junior’s girlfriend Lulu (Zarrin Darnell-Martin), a college student studying accounting; Junior’s friend Oswaldo (Nabil Rajo), a recovering addict and ex-con; and a dog (which we never see). He’s also juggling a discrimination suit against the City of New York after being shot six times by a white rookie, who also called him the n-word, during a raid on an after-hours bar back when he was still on the job; a lot of time and money have been going toward this bid for justice, with no immediate end in sight-and on top of losing his beloved wife Dolores, the entire ordeal has impacted on him both physically and psychologically.
Complicating matters for Walter, a friendly catch-up dinner at his place with his former partner Det. Audrey O’Connor (Claire Armstrong) and her fiancé Lt. Dave Caro (Sergio Di Zio) becomes an intervention of sorts when they try to convince him to drop the lawsuit and take the settlement the City has been offering before the deadline arrives. Cajoling turns to manipulation turns to threat, as Dave’s entreaties take a nasty turn—putting Walter’s home, and Junior’s newly acquired freedom from jail, in jeopardy. In the meantime, Junior is suspected of using the apartment to store stolen goods; Lulu says she’s pregnant; and Oswaldo’s visit to family goes terribly wrong. Then, there’s the impending drop-in from the local Church Lady (Allegra Fulton), who turns out to be a substitute for Walter’s usual church visitor—and even she has an angle to work on him!
Stellar work from Thomas as the gruff but loveable Walter; a bear of a man, Walter has a big heart, but finds it difficult to express it. An older and less vital man than he once was, he lashes out by refusing to eat well or take his meds, and self-medicates with alcohol. But despite his stubborn, grouchy demeanour, we come to really care about Walter; during intermission, a woman who sat beside me remarked (as we were so close to the action in the living room) that, at one point, she wanted to reach out to comfort him.
Jones brings an edge of vulnerability to the cool, streetwise Junior; a young man who needs his father’s good opinion as he struggles to be a grown adult and get his life on track. Rajo’s Oswaldo is a struggling lost boy whose knowing swagger belies a fragile soul; and Darnell-Martin’s sweet but dim-witted Lulu isn’t as clueless as she appears. Armstrong’s warm, Tyne Daly-esque O’Connor plays nicely off of Di Zio’s slick, charismatic Caro; while O’Connor’s brand of manipulation is more motherly, Caro employs that reserved for the darker side of politics—shifting from flattering appeals to reason, to mercilessly going for the jugular. And Fulton’s eccentric clairvoyant Church Lady adds some much needed comic relief and magic following some intense moments at the end of the first act.
Nothing is clearly black and white here—all of these moments and relationships play out in the gray areas. Everyone’s on the hustle and everybody lies, so it can be hard to tell who and what to believe. That doesn’t necessarily mean these are bad people; just flawed and desperate, using whatever resources they can—especially manipulation—to get what they want. The big question is: will they do what’s right or what’s easy? Just like real life.
Between Riverside and Crazy continues at Coal Mine Theatre until December 22; advance tickets available online. Please note the 7:30 p.m. curtain time for evening performances; matinées are Sundays at 2:00 p.m.
Adrian Shepherd-Gawinski & Monice Peter (as Mark and Cathy-Ann). Set design by Michelle Tracey. Costume design by Ming Wong. Lighting design by Rebecca Picherack. Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann.
Nightwood Theatre continues its 40th season with the premiere of Andrea Scott and Nick Green’s Every Day She Rose, co-directed by Andrea Donaldson and Sedina Fiati, and running at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre. Provocative, fierce and sharply funny, divergent responses to the 2016 Black Lives Matter protest during the Toronto Pride parade force two best friends—a straight Black woman and a gay white man—to examine their relationship and allyship. Their exploration of friendship, oppression and allyship gets meta as these characters morph in and out of the two playwrights who are writing their story; struggling and processing not only the structure of the play, but the nature of and relationship between the two characters, who are to some degree based on themselves.
It’s Toronto Pride 2016, and besties/roommates Cathy-Ann (Monice Peter) and Mark (Adrian Shepherd-Gawinski) are getting decked out and ready to hit the parade route. Out at the parade, the celebratory vibe of their annual ritual takes a somber turn when they encounter a Black Lives Matter (BLM) protest blocking the parade route. Back at their downtown condo, Cathy-Ann becomes quiet and pensive, going online to learn about BLM’s demands for a more equitable, inclusive Pride celebration; while Mark shrugs the protest off as a momentarily scary and ultimately poorly timed inconvenience. No longer feeling like celebrating, she opts to absent herself from a night of drinking and dancing; unable to change her mind, he goes off to meet his friends.
That moment of protest at Pride becomes the tipping point of an ongoing series of micro-divisions that have been apparent in their friendship for some time, and these come bubbling to the surface as the debate continues, the heat turned high, when Mark returns. Divergent personal perspectives on the police, Caribana and privilege erupt—not to mention the collision of odd couple-esque personalities—and, more and more, they find that their differences outweigh their similarities.
Woven into Cathy-Ann and Mark’s story is the journey of playwrights Andrea and Nick; and this is where it gets meta, especially since the characters are, to varying degrees, based on the actual playwrights. Debating everything—from structure, to back story, to the inclusion of flashback scenes and fourth wall-breaking monologues—like the characters (Cathy-Ann and Mark) who question their friendship, Andrea and Nick find they must ultimately ask themselves why they’re writing this play.
Outstanding work from Peter and Shepherd-Gawinski in this complex, insightful and sharply funny two-hander that takes us to some uncomfortable places in a powerful, candid way. Playing characters that would otherwise be relegated to “sassy friend” supporting roles, the relationships go beyond the stereotypes to get real—becoming a microcosm of awareness, allyship and oppression Olympics, with issues of prejudice, intersectionality and privilege coming to the fore. Peter is a circumspect, grounded, Devil’s advocate delight as the cerebral, deliberate and sharp-witted Cathy-Ann; a scholar and somewhat of an introvert, Cathy-Ann has two degrees and is working temp jobs to pay the bills. Supportive of and engaged with Mark and the queer community, she finds herself having to rethink these relationships when she realizes the extent to which the Black community is excluded from Pride—and saddened to hear the clueless and negative responses from the white male-dominated queer community, including Mark.
Shepherd-Gawinski is a loud and proud treat as the gregarious, visceral Mark; flamboyant and impetuous, Mark is living the gay man’s dream—a great job, a fabulous condo, sex available with a swipe on his phone, and an awesome best friend. But, as much as he loves Cathy-Ann, Mark just can’t seem to get that the Black experience of oppression isn’t the same as his gay experience. His “colour blindness” makes the Black experience invisible to him—not to mention that, even though he’s gay, he’s still a white male, operating from a position of privilege that a Black woman does not. And, much like Cathy-Ann and Mark, Andrea and Nick are operating as opposites: Andrea is interested in a deep dive, less linear look at these characters and their relationship, while Nick is more comfortable with a less complicated, straightforward chronological approach. But, unlike Mark, Nick seems to get it when it comes to divergent experiences of oppression, and how intersectionality compounds the issue—and wonders how Andrea deals with it.
How does she do it? One day at a time—every day, she rises. We all need to check our privilege, and acknowledge the accompanying benefits; and be aware and mindful of the intersectional nature of oppression, and the barriers created therein—and educate ourselves on effective, positive allyship. And, as co-director Fiati pointed out during the opening night pre-show panel, no one wins when competing in the oppression Olympics.
Every Day She Rose continues at Buddies until December 8; advance tickets available online or by calling 416-975-8555. It’s a two-week run, and you don’t want to miss this—so advance booking or early arrival strongly recommended.
For dates/times of special events, talkbacks and a relaxed performance, check the show page. And, after the performance, check out the engagement space behind the playing area.
I had the great pleasure of attending the opening reception of ARTiculations’ 6th annual Curio Shadow Box Show as a first-time participant last night. An open call exhibition, the show features approximately 40 boxes—all the same size, provided by ARTiculations upon registration—most of which are for sale.
It was my first time out to see the show as well; it’s a finely crafted assortment of styles and media—incorporating glass painting, metal and other objects, as well as wood carving, water colour and drawing. The results are magical, disturbing, beautiful and provocative.
By chance, my two pieces were hung together, one above the other: Love, Oscar (a tribute to Oscar Wilde’s love of Lord Alfred Douglas, aka Bosie) and Harry Potter’s Nightstand; one of the other artists I met said they struck her as memory boxes—boxes with images and objects that capture a moment, a person. My first shadow box was a biographical one—a memory box—for my brother Sean’s 40th birthday; I’ve made several more since, mostly for friends for their birthdays.
The 2019 Curio Shadow Box Show is up until December 15; ARTiculations is located in Toronto’s Junction neighbourhood—store/gallery location and hours info here. The holidays are coming, and you might just find the perfect gift for someone—or for yourself.
I had a blast checking out the art and meeting some of the artists last night—and big thanks to my good friend Lizzie Violet for alerting me to the show. And big shouts and thanks to the good folks at ARTiculations for organizing and hosting this event!
Here are some snaps I took, including a small sample of the amazing selection of boxes on display.
Bronson Lake & Alison Dickson. Set design by Teodoro Dragonieri. Costume design by Paige Foskett. Lighting design by Liam Stewart. Photo by Bruce Peters.
Alumnae Theatre opened its second week of the FireWorks Festival last night, with Crystal Wood’s Grief Circus, directed by Paige Foskett. As moving as it is razor-sharp, this timely multimedia piece holds up a mirror to society’s morbid fascination, involvement and sharing in the death of strangers. A family has lost a beloved daughter and sister, an event that becomes fresh meat for the news and social media feeding frenzy. As they navigate the media circus that follows, mother and sister take very different paths to work through their grief.
Leah (Alison Dickson) speaks to us directly, our host and narrator as we witness scenes—sometimes in flashback—around the events of her older sister Jesse’s (Claire MacMaster) disappearance. Jesse’s body was later found in a ravine, and both Leah and her mother Carol (Bernadette Medhurst) find themselves in the spotlight of an often intrusive, uncaring news media—even confronted by a photographer (Jack Everett) on the steps of their small-town church when they attend Jesse’s funeral. In the aftermath, while Leah finds herself slogging through a callous, click bait world of modern news and social media, bombarded with ignorance and cruelty as she struggles to work through grief and loss, she is appalled to find her mother joining in—writing a book about the experience of losing her daughter, and working with PR folks to book interviews.
Alternating between past and present, we see a 15-year-old Leah interacting with Jesse, who is her best friend, advisor, confidante and go-to source of info on the state of their parents’ shaky marriage; then a few years later being invited to a party with Jesse and her friends in Toronto, where Jesse disappears after leaving on her own. We see Leah go head to head with Carol over Carol’s making an industry of Jesse’s death; and the battle for Leah’s participation in a television interview, taking place the same day as her first day at university. And Leah has a meet cute with Charlie (Bronson Lake), an awkward but sweet university student; they go on a sort of date, but his motives are called into question when an altered recording of a chat he had with their server (Everett) turns up on the news, showing Leah in the worst possible light as the troubled sister of a famous dead girl.
Lovely work from the cast in this timely, moving and razor-sharp exploration of how news and social media can intrude upon and dishonour the departed, and have a profound impact on their loved ones. Dickson gives a stand-out performance as the whip-smart, introverted, wry-witted Leah; precocious, irreverent and wise beyond her years, Leah can be her own worst enemy as she keeps herself informed about world events—events that spark deep anxiety over the possibility of catastrophe. Conflicted about engaging with the Internet following Jesse’s death, what she finds there only serves to make her journey through grief more difficult.
MacMaster gives an energetic, luminous performance as the bubbly extrovert Jesse; the best big sister Leah could have, she’s super supportive and encouraging—balancing a respect for Leah’s boundaries with gentle pushes outside her comfort zone. Medhurst does a nice job with the conflicted Carol; a mother who’s lost her daughter, she deals with her grief the only way she knows how—honour Jesse’s memory so she won’t be forgotten. Lake gives an adorably awkward performance as the bashful Charlie; somewhat of an introvert himself, Charlie is interested in Leah, but unfortunately not very media-savvy. And Everett offers a great range of news media folk, from the intrusive jerk photographer at the funeral, to serious CTV reporter, to sleazy “journalist”.
Timely, moving and sharply funny, Grief Circus incorporates video and projected social media messaging (video design by director Foskett) to illustrate the scope of the family’s loss of a wonderful, energetic young woman—and the inappropriate, at times heartless, thoughtless and intrusive, response of the public. Strangers turning up at the funeral, or making comments in person or online; and, worst of all, the anonymous social media posters who cast negative, clueless aspersions about Jesse’s character—especially the trolls who say that Jesse had it coming.
Grief Circus continues in the Alumnae Studio Theatre until November 17; get tickets online, by calling 416-364-4170 (ext. 1) or in-person at the box office one hour before curtain time (cash only). There will be a post-show talkback with the director, playwright and cast following the Saturday, November 16 matinée performance.
FireWorks continues its three-week run until November 24, presenting a new show each week. The festival closes with Genevieve Adam’s If the Shoe Fits, directed by Heather Keith (Nov 20-24).