His Greatness is Aptly Named

Sometimes, a really great opportunity isn't a really great paying opportunity. When these situations arise you have to weigh the pros and cons, and see if participating in something awesome without getting paid would be better for you than finding a minimum wage, part-time, not awesome job. Such an opportunity presented itself to me this summer.

SummerWorks had ended on August 14th, I had signed a contract with Opera Atelier to begin work on September 19th. It didn't seem like finding a part-time job was in the cards. Of course, you never know how long it might take to find a job, it could take a day, a week, a month or longer. In my experience, it seemed to always take about a month, and I only had a month in which I would've been able to work anyway. The temp agency knew I was available, but no one is hiring temps in this economy. It seemed like I wouldn't have much to do.

In May, I went to The Proust Project at Canadian Stage's Festival of Ideas and Creation. There I talked to my directing professor from the University of Guelph, Ed Roy, about what I was up to, and what he was up to. I told him, if he ever needed an apprentice to let me know. In August, Ed emailed me to tell me he was beginning rehearsals for His Greatness, written by Daniel MacIvor, on August 23rd. He asked if I would like to be the apprentice stage manager on the show and of course the answer was yes! ... But, unfortunately, that couldn't happen. The show didn't open until September 22nd, and I was beginning prep week for Opera Atelier on September 19th. I wrote Ed back and asked if I could help out for the duration of my availability, and I ended up with the title Production Assistant.

I went to the majority of rehearsals, and helped out however I could. I filled a lot of prop liquor bottles with water, was on book whenever the stage manager, Sharon DiGenova, was otherwise occupied, ran some errands, and did whatever other odd jobs I could conquer.

When you work in theatre, the weeks are long. It can range from difficult to impossible to get the time off you want to for other events that arise. This is something I’ve resigned myself to (or perhaps, am working on resigning myself to,) since making the decision to have a career as a stage manager. The best part about being a volunteer was that I didn’t have to cancel my previous engagements, and was able to take the time I needed to go to my nephew’s first birthday party, and a family wedding.

Also, I got to sit in the audience and enjoy the show on opening night. The last time I was able to do that on a show I worked on was when I directed a one act play in fourth year. Since then, I’ve either been backstage or in the booth on every other show I’ve worked on. My personal preference is for the booth, because then at least I get to watch the show.

This production of His Greatness was staged at the Factory Theatre’s Studio. Working on this show was the first time I’d been in that theatre since I saw Banana Boys in 2005. It occurs to me that I’ve seen my two favourite productions of all time in the very same theatre. His Greatness is hands down my favourite production I’ve ever worked on. I tend to get very attached to my productions and will defend every aspect of it in the face of my friends’ light criticisms. With His Greatness, I was so convinced of its excellence that I couldn’t even imagine my friends criticizing it. And I had every reason to believe so. My guests loved this production, as did the critics. In her review of His Greatness, Sonia Barker writes, “As I write this review I feel immense pressure to be able to do it justice.” I couldn’t agree more. I feel more pressure still, because I knew this play inside and out. I watched this play grow from the ground up as I spent four weeks with it. I could go through the entire script, analyzing every line, explaining my thoughts on each decision, pinpointing my favourite moments, drawing attention to every little detail.

But that's just not feasible. So a brief review is what I can offer instead. I'll do my best to do it justice.

His Greatness is billed as “A potentially true story about two days in the last years of the great American playwright Tennessee Williams.” The story takes place in a hotel room in Vancouver, November of 1980. The Playwright (Richard Donat) and his Assistant (Daniel MacIvor) are in town for the premiere of the Playwright’s latest play. The Playwright wants an escort to accompany him to his premiere, so the Assistant goes out and hires the Young Man (Greg Gale) for the evening. These three actors had incredible chemistry. I particularly enjoyed the scenes with all three of them, as the Assistant and the Young Man vie for the Playwright’s attention. And still, there was so much more between all of them.

The Playwright and the Assistant have spent the past fifteen years together, and know each other very well. Their relationship is at times comedic, as they’ve learned over the years how to spar. The first scene of the play has a lot of this, and as such, is one of the most enjoyable to watch. The Assistant is also a caregiver, and knows how to motivate the Playwright when he doesn’t want to get out of bed, or to reassure him when his feelings have been hurt. Their relationship was once romantic, but now, the much younger Assistant plays a kind of father to the Playwright.

The Assistant selected the Young Man for the Playwright, knowing the Playwright’s type. The Young Man, then, is what the Assistant would have been like fifteen years ago. The Young Man and the Assistant predominantly have a competitive relationship. In the course of one night, the Young Man thoroughly wedges himself between the Playwright and the Assistant, and undoes much of the Assistant’s work.

The Playwright and the Young Man’s relationship has many different aspects. They are conspiratorial, as they arrange to get cocaine behind the Assistant’s back. After the premiere, the Young Man is in awe of the Playwright’s talents, and the Playwright soaks up the adoration. They are sweet with each other, as the Young Man undresses for the Playwright, or as the Young Man reassures the Playwright of his greatness after the reviews cause the Playwright to doubt himself.

The entire action of the play takes place in the bedroom of a hotel suite, a stunning set designed by Kimberly Purtell, and one of the most elaborate sets to grace the Factory Theatre Studio stage. In the first scene, the Assistant rouses the Playwright out of bed in time for a radio interview that does not go very well. The Playwright takes out his frustrations on the Assistant, as the Assistant tries to calm him down. The Assistant urges the Playwright to get ready for the premiere. In the next scene, the Young Man enters and searches the room; the most “incriminating” item he finds is the Bible. The Assistant enters with a suit bag and the two men start preparing for an evening at the theatre. The Assistant forbids the Young Man from getting any drugs for the Playwright. The Young Man hits on the Assistant, but the Assistant resists. The Assistant tells the Young Man what he can expect from a night with the Playwright. He tells the Young Man that the Playwright may ask the Young Man to read to him. The Playwright enters in the middle of an anxiety attack, claiming he doesn’t want to go to the theatre. The Assistant points out the Young Man to the Playwright and his demeanour changes instantly. The Assistant leaves the others alone in the room while he gets the car. The Playwright and the Young Man flirt, and the Playwright asks if the Young Man could procure cocaine. They leave for the theatre. In the next scene, the three men return from the theatre flying high after their successful opening night. The Playwright talks about being inspired to write a new play; the Young Man expresses his new aspiration to act in a play by the Playwright; the Assistant discusses the magic of theatre, and the importance of believing in the moment. While the Playwright is in the bathroom (read: doing cocaine) the Assistant makes a move on the Young Man, and the Young Man responds, “You’re not my type. I don’t go for faggy guys.” The Playwright returns, and excitedly exclaims that they should stay up all night and wait for theatre reviews. The Assistant’s mood has taken a drastic turn for the worse. After he makes a few cutting remarks, the Playwright asks the Young Man for privacy, and demands that the Assistant leave the room. After the Assistant has gone to his own room, the Young Man comes out of the bathroom, and undresses for the Playwright. As act one ends, the Young Man is about to read a passage from one of the Playwright’s plays.

Act two begins the next morning, as the Assistant returns to the Playwright’s hotel room with the reviews. He finds the Playwright up and despondent. Upon learning that the Playwright has been out, the Assistant assumes that the Playwright has read the reviews. He begins to comfort him, when unexpectedly the Young Man returns from some errands he ran for the Playwright. The Young Man claims he’s now on staff. The Assistant assumes the Young Man is trying to con them by sticking around for longer than was agreed upon when the Assistant picked him up the night before. The Playwright appears to be feeling better after taking some “pills for his headache” and says that he’ll be writing a new play for the Young Man to star in. The Assistant is confused by the Playwright’s good mood, and asks if he’s read the reviews. The Young Man finds the review in the trash can, the Playwright reads it, and locks himself in the bathroom. The Assistant tries to convince the Young Man to leave, but he isn’t budging. When the Playwright comes out of the bathroom, the Assistant tries to comfort him, insisting that bad reviews will make him stronger. The Young Man is a fighter, and he doesn’t take to this suggestion. He claims they have to fight back; He thinks they should threaten the critics, or at least talk about threatening them. The Young Man calls out the Assistant, claiming that he doesn’t have the Playwright’s best interest at heart. Things get heated. The Young Man says that the Assistant claimed that the Playwright couldn’t get it up, and is insane. The Playwright asks the Assistant for some privacy with the Young Man, the Assistant is loath to leave them alone, but settles for going into the bathroom rather than leaving the hotel room completely. The Playwright demands to know what exactly the Assistant said about his sanity, and when the Young Man realizes that the Playwright is afraid of being insane, he comforts him, telling him he’s a magician and his plays are magic. The Assistant returns from the bathroom with nasal spray, which he understands to mean that the Playwright is doing cocaine. The Playwright insists that he’s not, and asks the Assistant to call the theatre to arrange an interview with the critics, saying he “deserves a rebuttal to slander.” The Assistant says he’ll call from his room, and leaves the other two men alone. While he’s away, the Young Man does a line of coke on the desk, as the Playwright tells the story of how he met the Assistant. The Young Man realizes that he has more in common with the Assistant than he first imagined. When the Assistant returns, he throws the nasal spray on the bed, where the Playwright dives for it and uses it right away. The Assistant quits his position, and explains to the Young Man everything he’ll need to know about caring for the Playwright. As the Assistant goes to leave, the Playwright recites a little joke they have, “You owe me twenty dollars!” The Assistant throws the money on the bed, squaring up his debt with the Playwright and leaves forever. The two men can think of only one thing to do in his absence: more cocaine. The final scene finds the Playwright and the Young Man coming down several hours later, listening to another negative review on the radio. This scene feels so empty, as both men are filled with despair. The Playwright insists the Assistant will come back, but he is beginning to lose hope. The Young Man realizes that the Playwright doesn’t have any money, and decides that it’s time for him to leave. As he goes to exit, the Playwright offers him twenty dollars, much less than the previously agreed upon price. The Young Man realizes it’s the twenty dollar bill that the Assistant left, and doesn’t take it, saying “He’ll probably want it when he comes back.” The Playwright is left alone on the stage.

The Assistant returns for the final monologue, informing the audience that the Playwright died a few years later in the bathroom of a hotel in New York, having choked on a nasal spray bottle cap. He tells us that he and the Young Man both died of AIDS. He claims that although there is no hope for our characters, there is hope because we, the audience, came to the theatre, and believed in something in the strange, dark, magical theatre.

Kimberly Purtell also designed the lighting which featured many practicals on stage. Lyon Smith was the sound designer, creating beautiful transitions out of a Beethoven composition. Nina Okens was the costume designer, who found simple and elegant pieces that suited the characters impeccably. Ed Roy’s direction was absolutely sublime. And Sharon DiGenova calls a great show.

All in all, I don’t think it would be possible for me to love this play more. It is simply outstanding, and I feel so privileged to have been in this rehearsal hall will these amazing and talented people.

My SummerWorks: 5 Plays in 2 Days

[I started writing this post over a month ago. Then the whirlwind of a production that is Don Giovanni took all my time. Now it is very late, but I am still determined to write about the five plays I saw at SummerWorks.]

The Safe Word was presented at The Theatre Centre, and as such was the only play I saw that wasn't at Theatre Passe Muraille. It was written by Nicolas Billon, and directed by Lee Wilson. It's a play about relationships, sex, and growing up. 

In The Safe Word, a man (Daniel Briere) moves into a communal house where no one reveals their real names, and instead are granted nicknames from the other housemates. The man is named Smitten after he first meets his female roommate, Mildred (Samantha Espie), while she is in a towel and she claims he is a smitten kitten. Their chemistry is palpable, and their dialogue is sharp and cutting. Mildred is a grad student studying Byron, she is cynical, smart, and seemingly uninterested in Smitten. The other roommate is an older gay man from Eastern Europe, nicknamed Boris (Randy Read), who plays a lot of chess. These three roommates spend time together, exchanging barbs and revealing bits of themselves to each other. 

Each character has a monologue about one of their earlier sexual experiences. Mildred mourns couches. In high school, people would start out making out on couches, but now that she's older, that step gets skipped completely, and people go straight to the bedroom. And in the bedroom, there are expectations. Boris talks about being a gay teenager in Eastern Europe however many decades ago. Somehow, he attracted the attention of the most popular girl in school, but was obviously not interested. He couldn't figure out how to turn her down without revealing his secret, so he asked her what she hated most, and when she answered chess, he decided to become immersed in chess.

Later Mildred discovers Smitten editing his online dating profile and offers to help Smitten out with his profile. Smitten goes on a few dates with a very hot woman nicknamed Catnip (Ieva Lucs). On the first date they go to a club, where the music is so loud, there's no chance for a conversation, all they can do is dance. When Smitten returns home drunk and flying high after his date, Mildred is jealous, then repulsed when Smitten makes a move on her. On Smitten's second date with Catnip, they sit in a cafe, and Catnip texts and ignores Smitten for a few minutes before he decides to leave. No sooner is he out the door, than Catnip texts him "How badly do you wanna fuck me?" and he's right back in the cafe again. Later they meet up in a hotel room, where Catnip admits that she is married, and shows Smitten her rape kit. She has a powerful monologue where she lays down the rules, and tells Smitten he can take it or leave it. Smitten is crushed, he was interested in this woman, and a relationship. One of Catnip's rules is "no kissing" and Smitten's response after hearing all the rules is that kissing is a deal breaker for him. Catnip responds, "If you want me to kiss you, you'll have to order me to." Catnip also tells him if she utters the safe word, he is to stop immediately. The safe word is his real name. The scene ends there, and later we see Smitten arrive back at his house, hollow. Mildred is awake, and he sits next to her on the couch. She begins the normal conversation of insults, but Smitten stops her and tells her that his name is Matthew, and asks her to just call him by his real name. When she does, he tells her, "My name feels safe in your mouth."

It was a good production, it made good use of the space, and the sound and lighting designs were effective. I thought the actors handled their roles well. It was funny, cute, and sad, all at the same time.

Exit, Pursued by a Bear is the title of a play presented in Theatre Passe Muraille's Mainspace, and one of the most famous stage directions of all time. This play featured a live band onstage (Ronley Teper's Lipliners), and several puppets.

In Exit, a young street performer woman (Adriana Disman) meets a homeless man (David Schaap) while she is pretending to be a statue. He tells her about his idea of forming a union for homeless people. She doesn't understand, and neither do I, why a union might be necessary for homeless people. She begins to visit him often, and they forge a relationship. He reminds her of her father, who was a stage director, and died while planning a production of A Winter's Tale. I'm unclear as to why their relationship exists, and why the homeless man reminds her of her father, other than the fact that her father was a member of Equity. It's hard to get behind a play, when you can't get behind the main relationship. The young woman is stalked by a bear in her dreams, and wants to escape it. Yet the bear is also intrinsically linked to her father, who once told her that he preferred to think of himself as a Papa Bear, rather than a descendant of apes. To escape the bear, she attempts to cage it, and to kill it, but she only truly overcomes the bear when she stops, puts on a red tutu, and dances with it. It was a beautiful moment, but that doesn't mean I understood it.

The bear puppet was controlled by two people (Anders Yates & Leah Fay Goldstein), and it was magnificent. It was undoubtedly the best part of the production. There were also several salmon puppets, and the members of the band wore salmon headbands for a sequence. The shadow puppets had potential, but were poorly executed.

Strange Mary Strange was in Theatre Passe Muraille's Backspace, which was a great space for such an intimate performance. Strange Mary Strange was incredibly well written by Evan Tsitsias, and wonderfully acted by Sarah McVie, Emma Mackenzie Hillier, and Catherine Rainville.

All three actors were portraying Mary Strange at different parts of her life. Catherine Rainville was Sexually Curious Young Mary, Emma Mackenzie Hillier was Sexually Promiscuous College Mary, and Sarah McVie was Trying Hard to be Sexually Normal Present Mary, being haunted by her past selves.

I enjoyed this play a lot, and thought it was exceptional. It was also incredibly uncomfortable and tense. When she was very young, Mary Strange went on a trip to Rome with her parents, where she saw a beautiful, masculine statue that flicked her sexuality on like a switch. After that she was always trying to find ways to scratch her itch. Her mother reprimanded her, and told her that polite girls don't scratch there. When she was in college, Mary Strange turned to prostitution as a way to scratch her itch. Part of this was problematic to me, as Mary tells the story of how she got into prostitution. She was gang raped by five men while she was passed out, who took a picture of the event, and left her the picture and a hundred dollars. Instead of pressing charges, Mary sends a note to one of the men that says, "Who's next?" Part of me realizes that Mary has every right to be in control of her own sexuality, but rape is never okay. In the present, Mary is engaged to Gary. Normal, trustworthy Gary. She is trying very hard to be normal, but she is obviously a hypersexual woman, haunted by her odd, hypersexual past. In the climactic moment, young Mary reveals the most disturbing part of Mary Strange's past, where she essentially forced her father into molesting her. The three Marys argue amongst themselves: Young Mary didn't know it was wrong, but her father did. I think blame is useless in this situation. Shortly after this disturbing event, her father leaves Mary and her mother. Short of taking Mary to a child psychologist and being honest about the situation, I think that leaving is the best thing the father could've done.

So, yes. It was an incredibly uncomfortable play, and the audience was tense and silent as it trickled out of the theatre. It left us speechless.

The other play I saw in Theatre Passe Muraille's Backspace was Still Life, by lemonTree creations. It was a collective creation piece, and the dialogue was unscripted. On the one hand, this gave the dialogue a natural feeling, but it was also awkward. The monologues were well written, but they were frequently upstaged. In one situation, a monologue was being given while two men stripped to their underwear in the background, and in another, a couple was reuniting and reconciling in the background. The lighting design by Michelle Ramsay was probably the best part of the play.

Still Life is about a gay bashing that took place two or three years ago in Toronto. I remember when this happened. I was working at Buddies in Bad Times at the time, and falling in love with that theatre and this city. I was shocked that gay bashings could still occur in this city, and that the perpetrators have never been caught or brought to justice. I knew Still Life was about that event. I wanted very much to like the play, I wanted it to be good. I knew it had a good message, and I tried to give it a chance. Even while I was watching it, I was telling myself, "It might get better, maybe by the end, the whole thing will have come together." Unfortunately, that was not the case. It was rough, and overly preachy. It was constantly upstaging itself. The characters were not particularly interesting. "It was about a gay bashing" is the most elaborate synopsis I can come up with for Still Life.

Little One was by far the best play I saw at SummerWorks. It was staged at Theatre Passe Muraille's Mainspace. It was written by Hannah Moscovitch, an up and coming Canadian playwright, and directed by Natasha Mytnowych. Kimberly Purtell's lighting design was eerie and evocative. Michael Gianfrancesco's set and costume designs were simple and perfectly suited to the story.

Little One is about two adopted children, Aaron and Claire. Aaron (Joe Cobden) tells us the story of when his adoptive parents adopted a second child, Claire (Michelle Monteith). Claire is a disturbed and dangerous child, with a dark past. She was found abandoned, and the adoption agency named her Claire, when she was unable to reveal her name to them. Aaron's parents put a lot of pressure on him to be a good older brother to Claire. He has to be careful to not say certain things, and not take offense to things that Claire says. When Aaron's goldfish goes missing, Claire claims she flushed him because he was dead. Aaron is unconvinced, and believes Claire flushed him alive. Claire becomes obsessed with the neighbours across the street, the man and his mail order bride from Asia who arrives with a Hello Kitty suitcase. When the bride, named Kitty, murders her husband, and is found by the police sitting outside the bedroom with the dead man inside, muttering "I love you" repeatedly, Claire's interest only increases. One day, Claire walks towards Aaron holding a knife, Aaron asks her what she's doing with it, and if she'd give it to him please. Claire stabs Aaron, and, as he does every time Claire does something that makes him uncomfortable, he calls out, "MOM! It's okay Claire... MOM!" Aaron is rushed to the hospital, and Claire's psychiatric appointments are increased. As "a reward for handling being stabbed so well," as Aaron puts it, his parents give him a cat, which he names Sushi after his dead goldfish, but mostly he calls her Little One. Aaron is very protective of Little One around Claire, but eventually Little One goes missing. Aaron is very suspicious of Claire, who claims to have nothing to do with it. Eventually she tells him that Little One is under the across the streets neighbours' porch. Little One was hit by a car, and Claire tried to treat her by feeding her whisky. Little One died of alcohol poisoning. Claire constantly repeats, "It was just a cat." But Little One was not "just a cat" to Aaron, and he is unable to forgive Claire. He begins asking Claire what her real name is, and she refuses to answer. Throughout all of this, their parents are willing to forgive Claire for everything. As a bonding exercise, they decide that the family should go camping one weekend. Aaron and Claire are expected to share a tent, which Aaron diametrically opposes. In the tent, Claire tries to take off Aaron's pants. He freaks out, and Aaron our narrator, steps out of the scene and tells us he went to his parents and they realized that in all their attempts to protect Claire, they didn't realize they might need to protect Aaron from Claire. After that, Claire gets sent to a mental institution. But then we go back into the tent, and see how the rest of the scene played out. Claire tried to take off Aaron's pants, and when he freaked out, she told him she was just joking around. Then she told him her name was Kitty. He told her he wasn't mad, and everything would be okay. Then he went to his parents and as good as told them that Claire had molested him. 

I found this play heart wrenching and the characters sympathetic. Aaron did what he had to do to survive, but Claire was just a deranged child who didn't understand her own actions.

The play made great use of the space, with a young girl (Kaylie Lau) playing a small piano in the downstage right corner of the stage. Aaron was confined to the stage, but Claire spent time on the catwalks around the audience, and walked directly into the audience at the end. The writing was phenomenal. It was extremely well cast and performed. I would see this play again and again. I'm sure there would be new things to discover each time.

So, those were the five plays I saw at SummerWorks. A small sampling of everything there was to see, and yet an interesting selection of pieces.

SummerWorking

While I was in rehearsal and production for This Wide Night, I was also in rehearsal for the SummerWorks show I stage managed: Oh, Ryan.

Oh, Ryan was a one man show, written by and starring Shawn DeSouza-Coelho. The co-directors were Emma Dines and Chai Lavie.

I enjoyed the fact that I was working on two shows, one of which was a two hander with one director, and the other a one man show with two directors.

They were also both in Theatre Passe Muraille's Backspace — which meant more time with Colin Harris in the booth! There was also a second technician who I've run into a few times in the past around town. Her name is Erin, and she also did an excellent job.

Our lighting designer was Raha Javanfar, whose design really created several different atmospheres on a bare stage.

It was my first time participating in SummerWorks and I had a great time. Of course, Summerworks losing (or not receiving) a large part of its funding this year affected the mood, but I'd say it created a sense of camaraderie and community. We artsy types band together under pressure or threat.

SummerWorks was ten days long, and we performed Oh, Ryan seven times. At first, we had shows every other day, but then for the final four days of the festival we had four performances. It was nice to have so much time off during the first half of the festival, but I preferred the four days in a row. I'm not really used to taking time off between performances, and running the show every day helps me keep my head in the game. When we were performing it every other day, it felt like we were coming back to it after a long break. 

Oh, Ryan is about someone dealing with grief and loss. The character of Ryan loves to tell stories, and connect with his audience. Shawn, the writer-performer, is also a magician, so there was an element of magic to the show. There were three audience participants in every show, and it was interesting to see the different ways they contributed to and reacted to the magic on stage. The third audience member had the task of giving something a name. The names chosen covered a range of experiences... from cloud to joy to awkward, from grass to lark to perfect, it was a moment I looked forward to in every show.

The play was very poetic and metaphorical. Throughout the play, Ryan builds a constellation out of white paper balls. To Ryan, stars represent people, and moments in his past. Constellations represent the connections forged between people, or else linking the moments in Ryan's life. The final star in the constellation is created by the entire audience, and represents the connection they made in the theatre. Ryan tells his audience that the most important thing is believing, and in the climactic moment of the play, he levitates the final star.

The absolute best part of working on this show was the amazing people I got to work with. It was one of those incredible experiences that happens between theatre people where the friendships are formed fast and strong. I looked forward to my Oh, Ryan rehearsals, and they were even worth enduring the awful commutes to Etobicoke and Kitchener.

So, during SummerWorks I ran the sound board, called the lighting cues, and watched seven performances of Oh, Ryan. But I also saw another five performances. More on that to come.

Twelve Wide Nights

I haven't written in a long while, and that's not because I've had nothing to write about. Quite the opposite. In fact, I've been very busy.

I returned from my vacation to Winnipeg in June and jumped right into rehearsals for This Wide Night. This Wide Night was written by Chloe Moss, and is the winner of the 2009 Susan Smith Blackburn Award.
Our production was produced by the CAEA approved co-op, Mermaid Parade. MP was formed of myself, Jon Michaelson, Astrid Van Wieren, Claire Burns, and Lindsay Anne Black.

It's a British play about two lower class women who were cellmates together in HMP Cookham-Wood — one for manslaughter, the other for theft and drugs.

They formed a tight bond in prison — partly friendship, partly a maternal relationship. Lorraine, who is approaching 50, has the longer prison sentence, and when she is released her first instinct is to head straight to Marie's flat. Marie, who is 30, has been out for a few years. She is past her probation period, and might be slipping back into bad habits. Her casual alcohol abuse is definitely worrisome, especially to Lorraine, who associates alcohol with her own bad temper that led directly to her manslaughter charge.

When Lorraine arrives at Marie's flat in scene one, Marie is hesitant to have her there. Over the course of the eleven scenes, Marie plays the role of generous hostess, petulant child, party girl, caregiver, lost soul, and more. She careens from one emotion to the next, occasionally at complete opposites. Marie was played by the very talented Claire Burns, who tackled an incredibly difficult role with talent and style. She made really interesting choices, and brought a delicate balance to Marie's tenderness and fierceness.

Lorraine was played by Astrid Van Wieren, who is one of the most kind hearted women I've ever met. This play was a bit of a pet project for Astrid and her longtime friend, Jon Michaelson, who directed This Wide Night. Astrid's love for the play was evident in every rehearsal, and I also believe she truly loved the characters. She loved the woman she was portraying, as well as feeling Lorraine's love for Marie. Lorraine's arc is a bit more straightforward than Marie's. Lorraine is stressed, anxious, and slightly shell shocked to be on the outside after twelve years in prison. She has an estranged son who was taken away by social services long before she committed her crime. Her son, Ben, and her surrogate daughter, Marie, are the two most important people in her life. She has fond memories of her son, although she hasn't seen or heard from him in twenty-four years. At the urging of a social worker, Lorraine writes a letter to Ben before leaving the prison. She receives his response around the midpoint of the play. She enjoys a reunion with him, and looks forward to many more dates with him. She takes pride in his success as a teacher, though she may feel that he succeeded in spite of her, and certainly not because of her. There is a sense, perhaps, that he was remarkably unscathed by his childhood with an alcoholic mother, his removal from her care and adoption at age seven, and later learning that his birth mother was imprisoned for stabbing a man. Despite Lorraine's infractions, it is obvious that she always loved Ben very much. However, during her second meeting with Ben, he tells her that he sees no need to have a relationship with her, and he just wanted to meet her once to sort through his emotions and perhaps experience some closure. Lorraine accepts this, perhaps because she doesn't believe that she deserves his forgiveness or love, but also because she has grown a lot from the extremely anxious woman she was at the top of the play. And, hey — she got to meet him once. She'll carry her pride for her son and her gratitude that after all, he will be okay.

In essence, this play is about the relationship between two very different women. A relationship that was forged on the inside; that might not be able to survive on the outside. Their freedom is so tentative and delicate. Marie feels the need to protect her freedom, and Lorraine is terrified of her own. 

Lindsay Anne Black's awesome set captured the claustrophobia of the play. The play was performed in Theatre Passe Muraille's Backspace, and the already small stage was turned into a studio apartment no larger than a prison cell. 

David DeGrow's lighting set many different moods, and established a large range of times of day. 

Mike Conley and Emily Derr were our pair of sound designers who wrote gorgeous and haunting scene transitions, predominantly on guitar.

And what can I say about Jon Michaelson? He was a generous and dedicated director, and his love and passion for the play was evident on stage in every scene. He also attended ten out of twelve performances.
My buddy in the booth was one Colin Harris, who attended the University of Guelph with me. He was a great guy to work with, especially when you have to spend so much time with the people you're working with.

As the stage manager on this show, I had the joy of being in rehearsal with these lovely people. It's also the longest run of a show I've done to date, at twelve performances long, from July 20th to 31st. I drove a big van full of props and set pieces from our rehearsal space to our performance space. (This might not have been the best idea, and there were a few scary moments when I unexpectedly wound up on the DVP.) I coordinated with front of house staff as to when we would open the house, close the house, and allow late comers to enter. I preset the props and stage at the top of every performance, and ran the sound while calling the light cues. 

It was a great experience... and if you missed it this time around, keep your fingers crossed. We're all hoping for a remount.

Squeezing in "Lu Xun" in June

Sometimes, things just work. The stars align, the puzzle piece falls into place, the phone rings at the right time.

Such a thing happened to me a few short weeks ago. I returned home from my cottage on a Sunday night, feeling kind of low that chances were I wouldn't have work for the next two weeks, making it three months since the last paycheck.

Then, the phone rang. It was Nan Shepherd, that wonderful human and stage manager, who previously had hired me for the Glenn Gould School opera double bill. She asked, "What are you up to for the next two weeks?" I tell her I fly to Winnipeg on June 19th, she tells me the show wraps on June 18th. The next day she called me back to confirm it - I had a paid position as an apprentice stage manager!

The show I worked on was part of the LuminaTO festival. It was called Lu Xun Blossoms, and it brings to life five short stories by Chinese writer/philosopher Lu Xun. The cast was half Chinese, and half Canadian. The play was performed half in Mandarin, half in English, with English subtitles. It is one of my favourite things when two people have a conversation in two different languages. Sometimes, I'll speak English to someone who speaks French to me, but we can both understand each other. That is what drives the dialogue in the play - the idea that they are still communicating despite speaking different languages. For the most part, the Chinese spoke Mandarin, and the Canadians spoke English. It was very interesting to listen to.

Lu Xun Blossoms was the North American premiere of the first ever Sino-Canadian collaboration. It was originally produced in Shanghai several years ago, in collaboration with the Shanghai Dramatic Arts Centre. The piece was created and directed by the artistic directors of Theatre Smith-Gilmour, Michele Smith and Dean Gilmour. Dean and Michele (or Mimi) also both acted in the play.

The six actors all played several roles, sometimes within one scene! They brought characters, animals, imaginary creatures, and even objects to life through their physical acting. The third Canadian actor was Adam Paolozza who, along with Dean and Mimi, (though not at the same time,) studied at l'école LeCoq. The Chinese actors were Guo Hong Bo, Zhao Sihan (or Sunny), and Wang Yangmeizi (or Meizi). Hong Bo and Meizi spoke very little English, we had a translator, but it was amazing watching the way they learned to communicate with the Canadian actors. Sunny's English is excellent, and she's able to carry on a conversation. I found out that she learned how to speak English by talking to people, which is just amazing!

All three of the Chinese actors took turns playing Lu Xun at various stages of his life. Dean played old Lu Xun, remembering his past. It was truly an amazing play, and I feel so privileged to have been a part of it. 

I was backstage during the performances, and my duties included helping out with a few quick changes, tracking props from one side of the stage to the other, handing off props, receiving props, and I got to cue a confetti cannon! There was no set, it was a black-box type of stage, and several props were mimed. It sounds minimal, but in reality there were probably over fifty props. I had to be a well oiled machine, and do everything the exact same way every performance. Truth be told, that didn't really happen. We were making discoveries all the way through. For example, during the second performance, I realized that it would be helpful if I moved an actor's hat for him at a certain time. So, for the remaining performances, I did so. 

It was definitely an interesting process, and things were a bit rushed. I hear this is typical of festivals. We were waiting on a shipment from Shanghai, that didn't arrive until the beginning of tech week (or rather, tech couple-of-days.) So, I was trying to track props, not knowing what we were missing, what was a stand-in for now, and what would even be in the package from Shanghai. In the end, it all worked out quite well. It wouldn't be stage management, without some problems to solve!

It was amazing to work with Nan again. She teaches me to trust my instincts. She has such confidence in me, and she's teaching me to see that in myself. With Nan I learn through doing my job, watching her do her job, and having wonderful conversations with her. It's lovely to have a comrade, a friend, a co-worker, and a teacher all in one.

Art Orgy = Sexy Substitute for Real Work

I haven't been working lately. And related to that, I haven't had money to go see shows. So you can see how this leads to me not having anything to write about. 

But, when you can't work, you volunteer. So, when a friend (/swim instructor/ dance classmate/ friend of a sister of a friend) from childhood, Jessica Fleming, announced that she was putting together an event, I jumped at the chance to help out. 

The event was an "art orgy," the second annual art orgy in fact. It was called TAC.TWO.ART.ORGY and it took place at a bar/cafe on Queen West, Tequila Bookworm. We took over the upstairs space, which was two rooms and a patio. 

On the patio there was a glitter station, where people could bedazzle themselves. It was a lot of fun to see twenty-somethings walking around with glitter and sparkles all over their faces, as if they were kids at summer camp who just got out of arts & crafts. Unfortunately, there was a small thunderstorm during the event, so the patio was a bit damp. That didn't stop many people, though.

[Let me preface this next part by saying I am not any kind of expert when it comes to art. I haven't taken art since high school, and I don't know the right terms. I appreciate art though, and have always loved going to galleries.]

Throughout the two rooms, artists had their pieces on display for the event. Brittany Anderson occupied one wall with her large abstract painting. It reminded me of a fire in a rainstorm. Corey Durand's small photographs were arranged in a line. They were beautiful and made great use of light. Most were colourful, but there were a few black and white ones as well. Paige Stewart is an illustrator and photographer. She brought the most pieces out of all the artists, and her display mostly included photographs, with a few illustrations, and three tiny clay models. Her wall was tightly arranged, with photographs making a kind of collage. It was five photographs tall, and five photographs wide. Her mixed media included portraits in black and white, photos of a cat, and illustrations of Mario with Bowser's head in his hand. The three tiny clay models were plants, from the game Plants Vs. Zombies. Lana Filippone is a ceramic maker, her piece was porcelain, and named "people say a lot of things." Karl Leung had four abstract pieces, and adorned the wall around his pieces with quotations from artists and art critics about what art is and what art should do. Mike Ruszczycki is a graphic artist and photographer. He had four pieces from his series Monster Mash. They were funny, morbid, and pornographic. They were photographs in sepia tones, of naked people in odd poses, with skulls imposed over their faces. They also had funny quotations, such as one about a threesome, and another about Bieber's balls.

In the front room, the bands were set up. There were three acts throughout the night. Luke Michielsen played first. He's a solo singer-songwriter, though he had some support from one of the later band's drummers, Sean Graham. He played his acoustic guitar, and some harmonica. To which I said, "There is not enough harmonica in music today, we need to bring that back!" Seriously. It's awesome. His songs were sweet, sad, happy, and fun, and had fun titles like "Dandelion/Dandy Liar." 

Next came the band Dress Rehearsal, composed of Sean Graham on drums, Ryan Watson on guitar, and Kevin Graham on guitar and lead vocals. They played mostly original pieces, although they did cover a Luke Michielsen song, and were pretty rockin'. 

Last was Most People, a duo composed of Paul McEachern and Brandon Degroote. They were the least traditional band of the evening, self-described on their myspace page as Indie/ Pop/ Psychedelic. Paul played guitar and Brandon played bass, and they played one drum kit between the two of them. They were also accompanied by their computer playing soundscapes and beats. They reminded me of The Besnard Lakes, Grizzly Bear, Andrew Bird, and Fleet Foxes smashed together. Though, of course, they're completely original. Unfortunately, they were unable to finish their set, which begs the question: Who moves into an apartment above a bar and then calls in a noise complaint to the cops before midnight?

My job for the evening was to run the bands. I had to let them know when to start, and when to stop. Mostly, I just got to listen to music all night, and discover three new acts that I quite enjoyed. 

Between Dress Rehearsal and Most People, there was a small dance flash mob to Annie Lennox's "Walking on Broken Glass," choreographed by the same woman who choreographed the whole evening, Jessica Fleming. My other job was to cue that up, but there were technical difficulties, and we had to take a do-over. But, hey! What's an art orgy without a minor screw up? I also composed a mini playlist to follow the flash mob, featuring Imaginary Cities, Camera Obscura, Mother Mother and Arcade Fire. Because I will take any opportunity I can to make people listen to the music I like.

Overall, it was a great night, with good music, fun people, tasty drinks, and a whole lotta art.

Paper Shines

I love going to theatre. That's the amazing thing about the career I'm pursuing. I can work on my own shows, and enjoy them, and I can support friends, colleagues, and theatre companies. Even if I go to a show where I don't know anyone who worked on it, or am not familiar with the theatre company, I'm supporting the arts. I'm a contributing member of the society I want to live in: A society that cares about the arts.

These past two weekends, I have seen a lot of theatre. This might seem backwards, but I'm going to start with the show that I saw most recently.

This past Saturday, I went to the closing night of paper SERIES, written by David Yee and directed by Nina Lee Aquino. 

I'm familiar with both of these artists, as Nina directed my favourite play, Banana Boys, which David Yee acted in. That was five and a half years ago. I was in first year, and it was the first time I ever saw theatre and realized how different and challenging it could be. I was hooked.

But I'm talking about paper SERIES now. It was performed in the Tank House Theatre at the Young Centre for the Performing Arts. It's a black box type of theatre. The set was extremely minimal, which suits black box very well. There was a desk at centre stage, with a two foot tall stack of paper on the [audience] left side of it. The stack of paper was lit in such a way it looked as though it was lit from within. There were two chairs on stage as well, and these were moved by the actors frequently throughout the performance. Off to one side, there was a record player sitting on two large stacks of paper. There was no real record on it, rather, there was a circular piece of paper. During the scene shifts, an actor would put a new, differently shaped piece of paper on the record player that related to the scene you were about to see. 

paper SERIES is just that. It's a series of six short plays, all connected by paper. There were six performers; each had a scene where they were the main character.

First was PAPER burns, starring Marjorie Chan. It was the story of a woman who goes into the family business of counterfeiting money. As a child, her father taught her that reputation is the most important thing. He built his reputation on being the best counterfeiter. He claims his money is able to pass "the burn test." When their warehouse is raided by cops, he sets everything on fire and goes out the front door, where he is shot down. The Russians, who were paying for this job, are not pleased and want Baht (Chan) to complete the job. She tries to make money that won't burn, and in the process realizes that her father built his reputation on a lie. It simply can't be done. In the end, she comes up with a cunning way to deal with the Russians and maintain her reputation. When they come to pick up the money, she makes them wear masks because the ink fumes are potentially dangerous. What she is really hiding is the smell of gasoline, as she has soaked the place in it. As the Russians are realizing they're unhappy with the money, she walks out the front door and sets the place on fire with the Russians still inside. She has the six pieces of paper needed to start a new life — a driver's license, a birth certificate, a SIN card, a health card, a passport, and a credit card — and on she goes.

The second play was PAPER cuts, with Rosa Laborde as Hope. This one was possibly the funniest as Hope tries to write a break-up letter to her boyfriend, John. "Dear John, It's not me, it's you. That's a lie, it's you. Love, Hope." She writes letter after letter, as John sleeps. She tries different tactics. Brutal honesty, gentle lies, and most hilarious of all, she re-adopts her Russian accent from PAPER burns, and writes "Dear John, We are international group of terrorists. We have kidnapped your girlfriend. If you ever want to see her again, bring $500,000 to locker... 19 at the bus station. But actually, that probably won't work, so just assume that you will never see her again. Love, ... nameless group of international terrorists..." In the end, she uses a metaphor to convey the truth honestly. She writes that she has a papercut, so small you can't even see it, but it hurts.

Next was PAPER dolls, starring Rebecca Applebaum as Mutt. She is a young girl, who has been shunted about from foster home to foster home. She makes paper dolls, and imagines them to be her Scottish father and Chinese mother. The dolls tell her the story of how they lived in the Annex and were happy, how they died in a car crash, went to heaven and made a deal with god, who prefers the name Angus ("God is Scottish!?"), to watch over and protect their daughter until she's 20. It was a very funny piece, with paper cut outs of cars, a dog, a house. When the cars collide in the crash, a handful of shredded paper gets thrown in the air. It also touched on issues of racism, with Mutt talking about how the nun at the orphanage says Mutt is unwanted because she's a half breed. Also, the character has no other name besides "Mutt." I found this aspect interesting, as I know the playwright, David Yee, is of Scottish and Chinese descent. 

The next piece was the most physically comedic, PAPER tears starring Nico Lorenzo Garcia, a waiter in a Chinese restaurant, named Wisdom, (his co-workers' names are King, Calm, and Love,) who decides to personalize the fortunes in the fortune cookies when he overhears a man who is on a date in the restaurant on the phone with his wife. His co-workers join in the fun, and the restaurant gets a reputation for having the most uncanny fortunes. This piece had hilarious sound effects, including the repeated sound of a wink. That was also the moment where my stage management sense started tingling, and I thought, "This would be difficult to call!" The climax comes about when Love writes a fortune to an attractive girl, whose boyfriend receives it instead. The boyfriend pulls a gun on Love, King comes out and pulls a gun on the boyfriend, a friend of the boyfriend comes in and pulls a gun on King, Calm pulls a gun on the friend, and the friend pulls out another gun on Calm. "It was a Mexican standoff in a Chinese restaurant!" Wisdom tells this whole story in response to an interviewer's question about whether or not he has any restaurant experience.

PAPER folds followed that piece, completely changing the pace. Byron Abalos delivers this monologue in response to his girlfriend who has just broken up with him. Interesting note: his girlfriend is played by Laborde, and Abalos played the sleeping boyfriend in PAPER cuts, so this piece is an alternative break up between the same actors. In PAPER folds Symbol's (Abalos) girlfriend is breaking up with him because he didn't kiss her one time, several months ago. Symbol reminds her of how when they met, he gave her his phone number inside an origami crane. He says that that one time he didn't kiss her was just one paper fold, and it takes so many more folds to build a relationship, or an origami crane. He makes her one last origami crane, and every fold he makes he labels as a part of their relationship, "our first kiss, the first night we slept together, meeting the parents..." and so on. In the end, he leaves her with the crane. PAPER folds might have been the weakest piece of the evening, but that doesn't mean it was bad. It was much slower paced, much less comedic. It was also the starting point for the entire series. In the playwright's note, Yee writes that he wrote Paper Folds for a fundraiser after becoming obsessed with a book on origami. From there, he became obsessed with paper, and wrote several short pieces, many of which didn't make it into paper SERIES. 

From the weakest, we went to the strongest for the final piece. PAPER route could be expanded to a full length play, and if it ever is, Kawa Ada should be cast in the role of Isaac again. Isaac is an immigrant to Canada from India, where he was a doctor. In Canada, he is a taxi driver. He tells his story to his fare, when she notices that his taxi driver license has been replaced with his medical credentials. He tells the story of how he met his closest friends, who are all taxi drivers in Canada who had been doctors in India. One day, they are driving along the DVP in two cars, a limo and Isaac's newly paid off, waxed taxi cab, on their way to pick up one of their friends from the airport. A truck jackknifes across all three lanes of traffic, and the friends narrowly escape being crushed. But then they notice that the man who had been driving behind them was thrown from his car and landed on the trunk of Isaac's cab. The man is a doctor in a Toronto hospital. His pulse is weak, and the ambulance won't be arriving anytime soon. Isaac performs a tracheotomy on the doctor to open his airway, but he has lost a lot of blood. The doctor's blood type is on his donor card, and one of them is a match. They find syringes in the doctor's car, and perform a transfusion. The police arrive and arrest the men; they are detained for a few hours and then released. The doctor doesn't press charges. He is, in fact, grateful to the men for saving his life. In celebration of their feat, all of the men replace their taxi licenses with their medical credentials. It was played mostly as a one man show, with Isaac impersonating his friends for his audience. It was a thought provoking piece. It was funny, poignant, sad, happy. It was a high note.

All six of the actors were commendable. They supported each other well, and owned their pieces in their own right. 

I seriously hope this play gets remounted or goes on tour. It deserves a longer life. It's definitely one for the books.

Omelets and Clocks

So, continuing on. 

After my blog post, rehearsals continued as scheduled. Then, at exactly the halfway point between first rehearsal and final performance, the stage manager had to step down from the production for health reasons.

That was stressful. It was especially difficult because I liked the stage manager so much, had been happy to be learning from her, and was worried about her. 

There were four rehearsal days where we didn't have an official stage manager, during which time I tried to be both stage manager and assistant stage manager. I continued to take blocking notes, set the space up for rehearsal, and prepare myself for when I'd be backstage during the production. I also wrote up the schedules, sent tons of emails, and started the rehearsal, called breaks, and started the rehearsal again. This is stuff I've done in the past, but it was the first time I'd been unexpectedly thrown into it. I was relieved when the new stage manager arrived at the beginning of tech week.

Kristin McCollum was the new SM, and she was wonderful too, in a very different way from the previous SM. In some ways, it's hard to know the exact differences between them because tech and show week are so different from standard rehearsals. It's also actually not uncommon to have a rehearsal stage manager and a production stage manager.

Tech week was crazy. I was in the theatre for sixty hours that week. I was tired, to be sure, but I also knew one thing that kept me going: I would rather work long hours in the theatre day after day, then spend one more hour working in a shoe store. It was long, to be sure, but it was a pretty smooth tech week all things considered. I did my part, taping out a props table, setting spike tape, labelling dressing rooms, and light walking. Then in the evenings, we had our various rehearsals.

In the first opera, Bizet's Le Docteur Miracle, there were four singers, two non-speaking extras (or "supers"), and three ballet dancers. There were probably upwards of twenty props, and about six or seven quick changes. During the overture alone, the set doors probably opened and closed twenty times. Backstage was a flurry of activity, that had to disappear every time a door was opened.

The set for both operas was a wall, approximately twelve feet high and thirty feet wide, with double doors in the centre, and another door on either side of the double doors. Sight lines were a bit of a nightmare. Especially during the first opera, when we had nine performers backstage and two ASMs. Not to mention the size of the costumes! The girls' skirts were very wide, as the design of Docteur was eighteenth century. The costumes were borrowed from Stratford, and they were beautiful. The singers all wore wigs, too. Our soprano lead wore a wig that was made to look like her own hair. Instead of having to style her hair every night, the wig and make up ladies (excuse me, the wonderful wig and make up ladies) could just stick the wig on her head, and voila! Hairstyle.

Allow me to summarize Le Docteur Miracle. Laurette is the daughter of the mayor, or Le Podestat, and she is in love with Captain Silvio. Le Podestat will absolutely not allow his daughter to marry a soldier, and he despises Silvio. Silvio, banished from Laurette's house, hatches a plan to win her hand. He poses as a servant in Le Podestat's household. He prepares an omelet for Le Podestat. When Le Podestat and his wife, Veronique, leave for an after breakfast walk, Silvio reveals himself to Laurette. Of course, Le Podestat discovers them and chases Silvio from the house once more. Veronique enters with a letter from Silvio, in which he claims to have poisoned the omelet so recently eaten by Le Podestat. Enter le Docteur. Early on in the opera, we are made aware of Docteur Miracle's presence as a traveling charlatan, selling remedies for what ails ya. He tells Le Podestat that his death is imminent, and demands a ridiculous amount of money for the cure. When Le Podestat is hesitant to pay, Miracle says that in lieu of pay, he will instead take the hand of Laurette in marriage. Le Podestat agrees, since Miracle isn't a soldier. Miracle gives the remedy, and exits quickly with Laurette. The remedy reads, "You are now cured by your son-in-law, Captain Silvio, who never poisoned you." Le Docteur, of course, was Silvio the whole time. Laurette and Silvio enter once more, and are forgiven and blessed by Laurette's parents.

So, if you can imagine the singer who played Silvio, changing to a servant, changing to le Docteur, changing back to Silvio, you can begin to imagine how busy it was backstage. Silvio had a coat and a hat, the servant had an apron, a vest, an eye patch and a hat. Le Docteur had a coat, a hat, and glasses. And he was wearing a pony tailed wig.

The second opera, Ravel's L'heure espagnole, was a complete breeze by comparison. For L'heure we had five singers and five or ten props. We had the same wall with three doors, but whereas for Docteur the doors were magical (people would exit stage left and immediately enter stage right), for L'heure they were set. Stage right was the entrance from the street, center stage went into the rest of the house, stage left went to the clockmaker's tool shop. The stage itself was the clockmaker's shop. There were three large clocks onstage. Two were upright and one was prone and was used as a seat. The design for L'heure was 1950s, and it was beautiful. The clocks, which in the original script were grandfather clocks, were gigantic alarm clocks.

To summarize L'heure espagnole, it's about a woman whose husband, the clockmaker, is not particularly interested in sex. Every Thursday, he tends to the municipal clocks, and she has an hour to spend with her lover. However, this week a client, a muleteer, arrives at the clockmaker's shop before he leaves, and the muleteer stays to wait for the clockmaker. The clockmaker's wife, Concepcion, has to figure out a way to get rid of the muleteer, Ramiro, before her lover arrives. She asks him to take a clock up to her bedroom. He exits with the clock as the lover, Gonzalve, enters.  Concepcion realizes her plan is flawed, as Ramiro will return once he's done. She convinces Gonzalve to get into a clock, and when Ramiro returns she tells him she changed her mind, and she now wants this clock taken to her bedroom. While he goes to get the clock he just took out, Don Inigo Gomez, a banker, enters the shop. He hits on Concepcion and she rejects his advances. Ramiro re-enters with the first clock, and then takes the clock containing Gonzalve out, Concepcion follows. On his own in the clock shop, Don Inigo decides to get into a clock and wait for Concepcion to come back. Instead, Ramiro comes back to watch the shop. Soon after, Concepcion re-enters and claims that the clock is going backwards, and she simply can't have that. Ramiro exits to get the clock containing Gonzalve. The real reason Concepcion is trying to get rid of Gonzalve is because he keeps composing poetry, rather than getting on with it. Don Inigo reveals himself to Concepcion, and at first she thinks he's crazy for being in the clock, and just wishes he would go away. Then the things he says start to hit close to home for Concepcion, as Don Inigo says that young, poetical lovers are often inexperienced. Ramiro comes back with Gonzalve in the clock, and asks if he should bring the clock containing Don Inigo up to the room. Concepcion agrees, and Ramiro unwittingly takes Don Inigo to her room. Concepcion asks Gonzalve to leave, but he doesn't. She goes up to Don Inigo. Ramiro enters again, and shortly after Concepcion follows, again unhappy with the clock. Don Inigo was stuck in it. Ramiro fetches Don Inigo and the clock down again. Concepcion suddenly realizes how sexy Ramiro is, and she invites him up to her room, without any clock. The clockmaker returns to find two men in his shop, one of whom is stuck in a clock. The clockmaker sells his clocks to Don Inigo and Gonzalve, who don't want the clockmaker to realize their real reason for being there. Concepcion and Ramiro enter together, and the clockmaker apologizes to his wife since she doesn't have a clock for her room. Luckily, Ramiro passes by every day, regular as clockwork, so he will tell her the time. 

The challenge for this opera was obviously the clocks. They had to be light enough for one person to carry, and big and strong enough to enclose a person. They had false backs that went up against trap doors hidden in the walls, so that the singers could escape to backstage, and re-enter the clocks from backstage. The clocks had large doors on the sides for the singers to get in and out of onstage too, of course. There were also little circular doors where the number 12 was, so that while the singers were in the clocks, they could open this small door to see what was going on and to sing, of course. So, while L'heure espagnole was much easier than Le Docteur Miracle, I had to help singers get in and out of trap door/clocks, and move the clocks about backstage. 

So, that was it. My first apprenticeship credit, and my first time ever working on an opera. It was a really fantastic experience, with great people all around. 

It's been a week and a half since the final performance, and I think I finally have the music out of my head.

Eh bien, et maintenant, l'opéra!

It's been an extremely long time since I last posted. This is because, up until quite recently, I haven't been up to much. I was working a retail position, and making money, and feeling complacent. 

I was quite unhappy with the retail position for a few reasons, not the least significant of which was the fact that I wasn't doing something theatre related. Even worse, I was struggling to force myself to look for something theatre related. But finally, I did. I sent out resumé after resumé, cover letter after cover letter. Nothing much happened. And then, an acquaintance I met at TIFF suggested I apply for a position. And then, that acquaintance recommended me to her friend. And then, I got an interview... and after the interview came a job.

I am now working on my first official apprenticeship credit, assistant stage managing two operas. I'm working for the Glenn Gould School at the Royal Conservatory of Music. The two operas are Bizet's "Le Docteur Miracle" and Ravel's "L'Heure Espagnole"... I get to use my French skills and my music skills!

We've been in rehearsal for about two weeks now. It is definitely challenging. Reading along with music is definitely easier when the performers are singing; easier compared to the extremely fast instrumental overture (in Bizet) and various other up tempo instrumentals throughout.

Also, I've done a lot more stage managing than assistant stage managing in my time. There are a lot of similarities, but there are some interesting differences as well. I suppose the differences are more noticeable when you have a clearly divided team. For example, in the past, when I've been a stage manager with an assistant stage manager, I wouldn't tell that person to set up the entire rehearsal space on their own. Now that I'm one of two ASMs under an SM, we have defined roles. The SM deals with the scheduling and booking of rooms, paperwork, blocking notes, and many other things I probably can't imagine on two operas of this scale. We ASMs prepare the room for rehearsal, reset the stage when we're starting over, and distribute and collect props. The tasks are appropriately divided, considering what our responsibilities will be during performances. 

As an ASM working on an opera, I will be backstage during performances. I will cue performers' entrances which will be marked in my score. I will ensure that performers have the correct props before going onstage, and keep track of the props backstage. I will assist in several quickchanges — I can't emphasize the word "quick" enough on this one.

I am so lucky to be working on this production. The performers are amazing. The singers are students of the Glenn Gould School vocal program, and we have dancers joining us from the Ryerson University ballet program. These young people, between the ages of twenty and thirty, are so immensely talented. They are dedicated and focused. I feel privileged to be helping them. 

Not only are these young students incredible, we have an amazing artistic and production team as well. Brent Krysa, the staging director, knows his operas backwards and forwards. He maps the whole thing out in his mind before stepping into the hall. The designers and musicians/music directors are sensitive to the performers' needs and the artistic vision.

I also consider myself incredibly lucky to be working on my first apprenticeship under the tutelage of Nan Shepherd. There aren't words to describe how incredible a stage manager and human being she is. She invites confidence. She is always willing to listen to her team. She recognizes the importance of her position as a person who will continue to influence her apprentices for the duration of their careers, and she is determined to have that be a positive, rather than negative, influence.
And that really is the best you could possibly ask for.