Whether or not we’re drinkers, we have all seen Alcoholics Anonymous in films and tv, that organization that gives addicts a place to find support on their journey back from rock bottom. AA is now part of our mythology. In theory one goes because one seeks to recover, to stop being ruled by the addiction even if that’s easier said than done.
No wonder AA is such a perfect template for exploring relationships, via the idea that we’re recovering from our addiction to romance. I think we all have had the romantic dream, even if it sometimes seems more like a nightmare. Whether we have found a happy relationship or given up, the dream is completely relatable.
Recovering Romantic is Briane Nasimok’s creation, shown in Toronto as a preview tonight before it opens at the Halifax Fringe Festival next month.
We were welcomed into Red Sandcastle Theatre by Lesley Ballantyne, who gave us name tags as though we too had all come there as fellow recovering romantics, and she were the facilitator of our meeting. Lesley ran the show from behind us in the booth, which makes sense because she also directed the play. She spoke in a kind unconditionally supportive voice as though she were a psychotherapist, leading us all over a microphone as though it were an AA meeting meant for recovering romantics. But that’s not wrong. Romantic dreams seem to be the norm in our world.
And she handed us a page with our affirmations that we were to say as prompted. The organization’s name as we see on the sheet is “Romantics Anonymous”.
I know Briane Nasimok from a few places, including opera, stand up comedy, and Confessions of an Operatic Mute: his Fringe show from roughly a decade ago.
Briane Nasimok, aka the Operatic Mute
Briane is a natural story-teller who reminds me of a cross between Woody Allen and Groucho. He’s Jewish of course. I found myself recalling Portnoy’s Complaint in Briane’s storytelling, possibly because Portnoy was also Jewish, or maybe because Portnoy is such an adolescent. Men in our culture often begin by looking at women this way, and struggle to break out of that. Hm, I suppose it’s a lot like the addiction that Briane is exploring. So there’s some deep truth underlying the story.
Recovering Romantic is a confessional monologue. True love isn’t funny. Ah but what about romantic disaster? that’s pure gold.
Briane’s delivery is as smooth as ever. And amazingly he looks younger now than he did in the operatic mute show a decade ago. Standing before audiences telling stories seems to agree with him.
Briane Shelly Nasimok
For now it’s a Fringe show, but I suspect the idea is bigger than what we saw, that there could be more to this concept, going as far as Briane is willing to go. As the show is repeated Briane will flesh it out further. Maybe he could actually invite a couple of us to come up onto the stage to tell our horror stories, our confessions? We’ve all had them. Or Briane could plant a couple of actors in the audience as fake audience members with scripted dating disaster stories. I could even see this as a tv show, or perhaps a reality TV show. I think Briane has hit on something universal. It’s as big as he wants to make it.
With a theatre full of fellow Recovering Romantics Briane is speaking to all of us. I have no doubt that he will have a sympathetic audience of fellow sufferers & recovering addicts in Halifax.
Last night’s final 2024 Toronto Summer Music Festival concert at Koerner Hall, titled Beethoven Unleashed, featured the violin concerto and the Eroica Symphony, a perfect snapshot of TSM at its best.
TSM combines the educational objectives of an academy and a showcase in a festival of concerts. Don’t let the “academy” part scare you off, the performances last night were as good as anything I’ve heard this year.
Conductor Simon Rivard accepting rapturous applause with the Toronto Summer Music Orchestra including Jonathan Crow & cellist Joseph Johnson (photo: Lucky Tang)
I was struck by a photo of so much youth, conductor Simon Rivard and the professionals from the Toronto Symphony such as cellist Joseph Johnson or violinist Jonathan Crow among them as equals. The warm informality we see throughout the festival is beautiful to see and to hear.
To begin it was the Violin Concerto, Op 61.
Conductor Simon Rivard, TSM Festival Orchestra, soloist Kerson Leong awaiting his next entry (photo: Lucky Tang)
Kerson Leong was soloist, with Simon Rivard leading the TSM Festival Orchestra. When I first heard this work decades ago I found the first movement to be a kind of agony, its passionate struggle almost unbearable. Or maybe it is simply that without the flair and flamboyance of a soloist like Kerson Long the piece can become boring. At times there was a kind of rhetorical gesture as though to set up his entry, an effortless showmanship. Not only was his tone larger than life but he has a kind of presence on the stage. The cadenza for the first movement felt titanic, at times giving us multiple voices on different strings. Difficult as it looks and sounds, there was never a moment when I doubted his ability to surmount all challenges in the piece. It was a piece of theatre to watch them making magic together.
Violinist Kerson Leong, conductor Simon Rivard, TSM Festival Orchestra (photo: Lucky Tang)
As an encore we were treated to a deliciously delicate reading of a slow movement from a Bach sonata.
After intermission we encountered another well-known work from the same middle-period of the composer, Beethoven’s symphony #3, known as the Eroica. I’m writing this next day after having tossed and turned through the night with music from the concerto and the symphony in my head, musing about the advantages of hearing music from the same decade and similar style of a composer’s output. I was reminded of Stewart Goodyear’s Beethoven marathons, when we would hear the sonatas played in order, as the experience invited us to notice similarities between adjacent creations, his new innovations jumping out for us seeming almost as revolutionary as they must have been in his time.
I pulled up the list of opus numbers to see the works coming up before and after the 3rd Symphony and the Violin Concerto. Notwithstanding the limits to the use of opus numbers given that music is being conceived before it is written down and possibly published later than it was really composed: the list is full of tantalizing hints. This little list that’s just a small part of Beethoven’s output takes my breath away just looking at it.
Op 53 –Waldstein piano sonata Op 54 — piano sonata Op 55 — Eroica symphony Op 56 — Triple concerto Op 57 — Appassionata sonata Op 58 — Piano concerto #4 Op 59 — three Razumovsky string quartets Op 60 — Symphony #4 Op 61 — Violin Concerto
The thing rattling in my head overnight was the way Beethoven seems to be thinking about sound and hearing, and in the process reinventing music almost by accident. Of course, he was gradually becoming deaf. The Waldstein’s opening notes may be music on the page but in some respects they’re like noise, repeated notes that can be percussive, although they’re soft at first, almost on the edge of our hearing. We get something like that to begin the violin concerto, a drum playing the same note to start. And we have something like that at the start of the scherzo of the symphony, a soft rustling in the orchestra that will get louder but to begin is almost imperceptible. Ditto to begin the last movement of the Eroica, as though the composer is playing a game of “can you hear the music?” The playfulness of these pieces is evident but also their refusal to play by the old rules. Indeed they’re daring precisely because they challenge all the old assumptions. Excuse me for going on like this (and there is so much more one could observe about similar sounding passages in those other works, for instance the soft opening notes of the 4th piano concerto), but it’s especially valuable that TSM were willing to program a concert this way, offering this opportunity to hear the music differently. I’m very grateful.
And conductor Simon Rivard extracted superb performances from his ensemble. Part of the joy is hearing a big work in the intimate acoustic of Koerner Hall, every player clearly heard, although that clarity is ideal when they play at this level. The horns in the trio of the scherzo were especially gorgeous, not just clear but with every phrase shaped to perfection, in a passage where players sometimes come to grief (I’ve heard a few fluffs in my time). I’ve never heard this segment played so well in my life. In fairness every section, every player was good, in a concert that was close to flawless in its execution and a fitting climax to a wonderful festival: the last concert at Koerner although there’s still more to come elsewhere.
For further information (about making a donation, to see names of Academy members or to read more about the festival that concludes on August 3rd) visit their website. The matching campaign ends this weekend.
A good pre-concert introduction from the artist can make a big impact.
Last night’s Toronto Summer Music Concert by pianist Philip Chiu with violinist & TSM artistic director Jonathan Crow at Walter Hall was sold out.
Titled “Dreams and Shadows” here’s the program (timings in brackets from performances on YouTube):
Elizabeth Raum — Les Ombres (9 minutes) Kaija Saariaho — Tocar (7 minutes) Johannes Brahms — Sonata No 3 in D minor Op 108 (29 mninutes) –intermission– Jules Massenet — Meditation from Thais (6 minutes) Sergei Prokofiev — Sonata No. 1 in F minor, Op. 80 (26 minutes)
Philip gave a light talk at the beginning to introduce the pieces by Brahms, Saariaho and Raum, reminding us that he is now a TSM festival regular. Yes indeed and thank goodness. It’s a reason why I found & then reviewed his wonderful CD that won a Juno last year. His collaborations with Jonathan have been a highlight of recent summers at TSM, thinking especially of 2021 and a belated celebration of Beethoven (that should have happened in 2020, when no concerts were permitted), as we tentatively came back from the pandemic in distanced venues. Their music-making banished all our cares.
Philip Chiu and Jonathan Crow at the 2021 Toronto Summer Music Festival
Philip’s joking told us a great deal about the security of their relationship: as artists and as friends. He finished by drilling down on Tegan Niziol’s program note to the Raum piece, reading it as the audience giggled:
“Raum describes the work as a “true duo”, with each part afforded an equal level of prominence. In her notes to the score, Raum indicates that the interaction of two main structural elements –repeating short musical figures known as ostinati, and melodic lines shared between the violin and piano– define the work’s overall form. She ascribes a sensual quality to the interactions between the two instrument as they form a flirtatious relationship.” According to Raum shadows (the English translation of Les Ombres) are evoked by imitative voices within the composition“. (Tegan Niziol)
The two halves of the concert couldn’t be more different, one from the other, especially as introduced by the artists.
I was put in mind of the design on the page, something we think of when looking at the scores of Debussy (for example) who spoke of arabesques both in his own work and in the baroque, patterns on the page. A shadow is if nothing else, the trace or effect of light being blocked by another. I’m looking at the shadow of the top of my laptop as I type this. A shadow is a kind of image of something else, not unlike what we encounter in counterpoint, but also not as rigorous as counterpoint. Shadows are capricious, sometimes they aren’t visible. MAYBE I am overthinking the name and the implications of the title, certainly less fun than what Philip made from the program note.
Les Ombres dates from the 1980s, and contrasts in interesting ways with Tocar, Saariaho’s piece that dates from 2010. Raum makes each instrument work rather than making the piano subservient or somehow an accompanist. The patterns that we hear articulated across the imagined stafflines, like musical gestures drawn in the air, are emulated, rather than echoed. It’s as though we’re observing a kind of encounter between the violin and piano, who do not speak the same language either in their sound or their physical – gestural vocabulary. We’re sometimes seeing them synthesize into something harmonious, sometimes watching one trigger something in reply. At times it’s a dialectic, a response in a new direction. When we’re getting towards the end –and you can tell when the ending is coming– there is something like a stretto, a concentration of the materials into a unified expression of the closing ideas.
Saariaho is doing something different in Tocar (a word meaning “touch”). It’s intriguing that both pieces employ a word in another language that in some respects characterizes the music via a kind of metaphor. I think it’s very helpful that Philip’s language encouraged a playful engagement with these pieces. My understanding of the word “tocar” doesn’t focus on what I saw in the program note, which spoke chiefly of the interaction between the two instruments. When I hear this piece the first thing that catches my ear is the curious way each instrument is sounded, which brings us back to the physical process of playing each instrument. Philip touches the piano, Jonathan touches the violin, and the notes diverge. The obvious contrast is made a few times, when Saariaho gets the violin to venture between tones, something you can’t do on a piano. There is a wonderful variety to this short piece, including segments of tremendous rhythmic vitality: that Philip & Jonathan exploited with effortless acceleration. The dynamic variety they displayed reminded us of their rapport, playing as if the two of them operate with one mind. The tentative exploratory quality of the beginning –when we watch each one make music on their instrument as if from first principles–returns at the end. Everyone in the audience leans forward, fascinated by this piece…
I’ll insert a tiny anecdote. One time I was picking up a family member at the Toronto airport I saw Saariaho. I approached her, introduced myself as a fan and spoke briefly of her opera Love from Afar. She was very patient with my starstruck tongue-tied manner, smiled and then I let her go on her way. Unfortunately she died last year, a composer who I thought still had lots to offer us.
We then listened to the Brahms sonata for violin & piano op 80. Of the three Brahms sonatas it’s the hardest, a quantum leap in difficulty both for each player and in how they articulate and make something from what’s going on in the relationship between the two instruments, who often work together for a joint effect. To make that come off one has to be pristine in one’s command, absolutely solid and clean, otherwise it just sounds busy or cluttered and won’t really work. I say this having experienced such a failure, but now having a better idea listening to the stunning playing by Philip and Jonathan. Especially in the second movement I was struck by how Jonathan Crow is seemingly at the peak of his game, a big full sound full of expression pouring out of him without any struggle, anytime he wants to call it forth.
And it seems to get harder, the further we go. While the piano was more of a conventional accompanist earlier (the melodies & phrases & rhythms perhaps reminding you of what we hear from Brahms in his piano concerti) for the last two movement Brahms takes us into something suggestive of a Hungarian or Roma influence, dance rhythms and a huge amount of energy. In the last movement it’s intensely demanding of the piano and violin, quick passages of many notes, cleanly articulated yet often understated to illustrate the maxim “less is more”. Then when we get to the big climactic passages we get genuine drama in the dynamic contrasts. Their subtlety in holding back at first pays off, so much of the sonata played more quietly than one might expect yet at such a high energy level and quick flow of notes.
It was magnificent, and the audience exploded with applause in appreciation.
After the intermission it was time to hear from Jonathan, the artistic director of the festival and likely the one who selected this program of music for violin and piano. He spoke briefly of the Massenet which was played to honour someone’s passing (sorry I didn’t catch the name), and much more passionately about the Prokofiev. This was more of a cautionary exercise to warn us of the loud edgy piece that we were about to hear, almost an apology: but in defence of its quirks. I’m hugely grateful that what Jonathan was pointing to was the context for the work’s creation in the crazy times of the composer. Where Philip was drawing our attention to the light that we should hear in the works to begin the concert, Jonathan encouraged us to embrace and even celebrate the dark.
I repeat, Jonathan seemed to be apologizing, admitting that when the work was new the first interpreters were told to make the piano part even heavier regardless of whether it drowned out the violin. We were reminded of how the composer described a passage where the violin ascends rapidly up and down, as “wind passing through a graveyard.” The place where we hear that in the first movement, the piano’s chords reminded me of church-bells, an eerily beautiful evocation, something we hear again (but differently) towards the end of the piece. In between we get extremes of dynamics that remind me more of Shostakovich or Mahler than Prokofiev, the heartbreak of the human comedy.
I hope Philip and Jonathan record this piece, indeed everything we heard deserves to be captured for all time, as this pair are at the peak of their powers.
Toronto Summer Music continues until next weekend. I should also mention that among Philip’s light-hearted commentary at the beginning were reminders about fund-raising for the Festival, which offers a matching program for a few more days (sorry I’m not sure when it ends).
For further information (about making a donation or to see/hear one of the concerts in the final few days of the festival that concludes on August 3rd) visit their website.
I attended the La Boheme to open Summer Opera Lyric Theatre’s summer season tonight at the Alumnae Theatre.
Alumnae Theatre
Guillermo Silva-Marin called it a festival in his pre-show introductory talk.
As you can see in the graphic, between now and next weekend SOLT will present three operas (not just Puccini’s bohemians but also Handel’s Xerxes and Mozart’s Idomeneo), two performances by each of the double casts to offer four of each opera, twelve shows in total in their schedule. Xerxes and boheme are offered in English translation while Idomeneo is sung in Italian, a different pianist / music director for each opera.
SOLT is a school for young singers, a summer program that climaxes with the showcase of this festival, when we see what they have learned.
Among the countless productions of boheme that I’ve seen & heard, a few were done in an English translation like this one. The singer’s task becomes quite a bit different especially when we’re working without surtitles. The comedy is foregrounded as we suddenly have funny lines, so long as the singer can make the lines funny. Some of the singers rose to the challenge better than others, balancing their need to sing beautifully while enunciating with clarity. Chances are they will improve in their second time next week. Marcel van Helden as Rodolfo and Cassandra Amorim as Mimi were very successful romantic leads, communicating & acting clearly and eloquently. I love it when I see a familiar opera in a new way. Baritone Joseph Ernst was a standout as Schaunard, both as an instigator of comedy in the first act, and the one who discovers Mimi’s death in the last moments.
Boheme without a chorus is a different animal, the challenge landing squarely on pianist Jo Greenaway. I was impressed by her choices, giving the singers room to be lyrical in their solos, fully honouring the lyrical lines rather than the compulsive quickness one finds in some interpretations (thinking especially of Toscanini, the one I first heard as a child). I think Jo’s approach helped the singers communicate, especially in the pathos of the last scene.
One of the changes in this version is the removal of the children’s chorus chasing after the toy-seller Parpignol, who is reinvented as a waiter in the Cafe Momus singing an aria. Everly Conrad-Baldwin took the stage boldly giving us a different way than the usual to set up the scene in the Cafe.
Everly Conrad-Baldwin
I will never stop admiring Puccini’s achievement. It’s a piano score I play (once we’ve done Christmas carols) at the annual Italian Department Christmas party (a regular gig at U of T I’ve been doing for over 10 years), apt because the first two acts take place at Christmas time. Puccini gives us joy and despair, romance and comedy in what is one of the most economical scores ever written. It never stops moving me, an effect that carries over into repeated viewings of the romantic comedy Moonstruck, a film relying heavily on Puccini for its charm.
But the other two operas aren’t chopped liver. Xerxes opens with what might be the most performed tune in opera, even though it’s often separated from the original context. “Ombra mai fu” has been paraphrased in such weird ways as “Handel’s Celebrated Largo” or the church anthem “Holy Art Thou”. Alas the irony of the original is usually missing even if it’s an amazing tune.
I used to enjoy playing and contrasting different versions of the melody for opera classes, for instance Gigli and David Daniels. I wouldn’t dream of suggesting one version of the piece is better, so much as that it’s a kind of litmus test of the era and a demonstration of the changing assumptions about the art form and their use of the virtuoso.
And here’s a sample from a rehearsal of Idomeneo by Mike Fan who sings the title role this week for SOLT.
We were grateful for an air conditioned space. Unlike the old Robert Gill Theatre, SOLT’s former home, they shut off the a/c for the start of the opera, resuming for intermission then silencing the blowers again for the last portion. Much as I loved the Gill it was plagued by ventilation noise. And the sightlines are better at the Alumnae Theatre.
Sometimes a theatre piece captures essential conflicts of modern life. If you read this excerpt from the press release for Desperate Measures you’ll see why I wanted to ask them some questions
“What would you do for an extra stream of income? Funny, sexy, and cathartic, Desperate Measures explores the question on so many people’s minds: how to make extra money “in this economy?!”. In the face of rising rent, shrinking income, and a baby on the way, Amy and Pete begin selling Amy’s used underwear online. However, when things spiral out of control, they end up buried in the panty business.”
Desperate Measures by Rachel Moore and Catherine Teichman, opened at The Toronto Fringe Festival running until July 14th . I asked Hilary Wirachowsky of the Desperate Measures Collective (DMC) about their show.
Hilary Wirachowsky
Barczablog: The press release begins “What would you do for an extra stream of income?” What are some of the desperate measures / side hustles / dayjobs members of the Desperate Measures Collective have done?
Hilary Wirachowsky & DMC: Hahaha oh man, what a way to start! I obviously polled the cast & crew for this one. We have all the usuals: Serving, Catering, Nanny, Child-minding at the COC. Some of the more unique ones I heard were: Property Management, Monologue Curation Service, Landscape art Door to Door Selling, and someone sold Bread by Bike (I love this name) but had to stop because the cost of ingredients/labour outweighed the reasonable price they wanted to sell for.
Barczablog: I’m sympathetic, I used to work in construction, landscaping, deliver mail, do websites..,. I have known desperation. Is Desperate Measures funnier or maybe more serious than the authors expected? Are the laughs in the expected places?
Hilary & DMC At its inception, Desperate Measures was definitely intended to be a comedy, but we always knew we were exploring sensitive and politically charged themes: the cost-of-living crisis (and the way it impacts different generations), sex work, gender roles, etc. As the show developed, we worked very mindfully to give these economic and political ideas the weight they deserve while still keeping it firmly as a comedy. There will be lots of laughs, but also moments of seriousness and honesty, and sometimes we even manage to do both at the same time.
BB: Your play flirts with sex work. How far can you push the envelope, embracing a risqué presentation?
Hilary & DMC The show does centre around a form of sex work, which we know might push the envelope for some audience members, but Desperate Measures really looks much more at the logistics of sex work, rather than the ethics. We get to watch Pete and Amy work out the nuts and bolts of running a panty-selling business. This gives the audience a chance to learn along with them, which we think will make it more accessible to those who might feel out of their depth. That said, there are plenty of moments in the show that some people may find risqué, but they’re all for the sake of comedy or storytelling, not just to be purposefully shocking.
BB: In 2024 can we laugh about the subtexts of Desperate Measures or is it a serious question?
Cameron Kneteman (Pete), Hilary Wirachowsky (Amy), and Lisa Randall (Linda) in rehearsal (what are they laughing about?)
Hilary & DMC It’s a bit of both! The best comedy is always based in truth—that’s what lets us connect with it, even in moments of heightened ridiculousness. The cost-of-living crisis is serious, and we know that nearly everybody is feeling the effects of it, ourselves in the show included. Our hope is that the show will give audience members feelings of both catharsis and levity—a chance to see their own frustrations reflected, but the opportunity to laugh and enjoy themselves.
BB: It’s a blunt dilemma as old as the theatre, reconciling the desire to make art and the need to make a living. Is Desperate Measures a work of art, or a way to make money?
Hilary & DMC: Well… I don’t think anyone does The Fringe to get rich.
BB: Good point..!
Hilary & DMC To me, The Fringe often is scrappy-indie-makeithappen-fun. Desperate Measures is a labour of love that started from the playwrights: Rachel Moore and Catherine Teichman and branched out to all of us involved. They set out because they wanted to tell this story, so it’s entertainment, and art. And I think all of those things can intersect and look differently depending on the project!
BB: Do you expect the regular theatre goers that populate your fringe audience to be like the choir to whom you’ll be preaching, people who face the same challenges as your team?
Hilary & DMC: What I like about Fringe is the diverse audience you can reach. The cost-of-living crisis affects us all, and this play is full of universal themes (it’s a comedy, but has some really tender moments I think) and so in my opinion it’s easy to relate or feel empathy to what’s playing out in front of you here.
BB: The desperation of the title could just as easily refer to the consumers as the sellers in these transactions. Do we ever hear from them, or are they irrelevant to your piece?
Hilary & DMC: Without giving too much away, the consumers have a presence in the show for sure. My character Amy does have some interaction.
BB Is the desperation understood as selling out, of compromising one’s values? Or should we be sympathetic to that desperation?
Hilary & DMC: The desperation (as referred to in the title) doesn’t represent much, beyond the catalyst of the plot and what causes the play to start!
BB: Recalling Barbie last summer, a light-hearted comedy with an unexpected feminist core, where does Desperate Measures situate itself, between comedy & satire, in addressing the implicit feminist questions.
Hilary & DMC First of all, thank you for bringing up Barbie! My favourite colour is pink, and I loved the film. Desperate Measures is absolutely a comedy, we laughed a lot in rehearsal, and the couple shows we’ve done so far have also had lots of laughter. But to me, the best comedy is grounded in real, and often big feelings, and there is no shortage of those in our show either: lots of tender, very human moments. Someone mentioned to me “these characters feel so real” which is so important to me as an actor, that the characters are whole people.
It’s feminist for sure, but what lives in this play is what I would call household feminism instead of a revolutionary feminism. It’s the tiny subtleties in day to day conversation addressing gender politics and societal expectations based on gender. I think the play is inherently feminist because it has to be given what goes on in the play, and who is involved, but it’s not the show’s only brand. There was a great effort made to make it not “preachy”.
BB: Whose desperation is being portrayed in Desperate Measures? Tell me about the authors and the players.
Hilary & DMC The story revolves around Amy (played by me! Hilary Wirachowsky) and Pete (Cameron Kneteman), a couple overworked and struggling to get by (let alone ahead) in this economy who find themselves buried in the panty business. You also meet Pete’s mom Linda (Lisa Randall) who makes things harder for Pete and Amy in spite of good intentions. The show is created by Rachel Moore and Catherine Teichman, Staged Managed by Paulina Tapia, and Directed by Rachel Moore. It’s a great team!
BB: Is the balance between farce and satire today the same as when the play was begun? Did the authors find the topic becoming sillier, funnier as they proceeded, or did they begin to see depths and profundities?
Hilary & DMC I asked the playwrights this (want to give them credit) and this is what they said: Certainly, some of the themes of Desperate Measures have only become more relevant since we started writing it in 2022, prompting us to explore them with more depth as time has gone on. That being said, the longer development time has also given us the opportunity to hone the comedy too, which we’re so grateful for.
BB How have live audiences changed the way the play is received?
Cameron Kneteman (Pete) and Hilary Wirachowsky (Amy) in rehearsal
Hilary & DMC: I love hearing new laughs in new places. And each audience shows their personality in different moments standing out to them. So we’ve had lots of laughing/funnier than expected moments or in places we didn’t necessarily expect. On opening one moment near the end got an audible “Aww” and surprised sounds, it’s always nice to know the audience is on the ride with you in moments like that. We’re in the Theatre Passe Muraille Backspace, so the audience is close, and at times I’ve felt the audience be more on my side, or they switch to Pete, or they’re conflicted about something – like Amy and Pete often are- and I’ve caught myself in defence of my character thinking “no you don’t understand!, etc.” It’s really fun, and each audience is so unique. It seems like they’re having fun too.
BB: There seems to be a lot of possible irony & comic depth to the story. Do you anticipate that the fringe show will be expanded, maybe even as a full-length feature film?
Hilary & DMC: I’m so glad you feel that way, I agree! Last year at The Hamilton Fringe the creators produced readings of various casts, so getting to be Amy in the first full production of Desperate Measures is a real treat, and I’m glad they took the plunge in Toronto. I definitely hope it continues to have a life after Fringe, and I think Catherine and Rachel do too. They lovingly nickname it as “The Panty Play That Could” sometimes in conversation, and I think that sums it up a lot. It’s silly and funny, but also so heartfelt, and hopefully makes people think and feel as much as it makes you laugh!
BB: Are there credits / acknowledgments that you might want to make?
Hilary & DMC: Additional Credits: Dramaturgical Support by Kat Sandler and Matt Pilipiak
We are so grateful to have a sold out run! A very limited amount of tickets may be available shortly before each show. There is also often a waitlist available.
I just visited The Drey Gallery on Woodbine in East York, just north of Danforth.
I was drawn by seeing Patrick DeCoste’s mention of the show on Facebook, plus the convenience of the location. I have friends and family living a couple of blocks away. I’ve told them and now am blogging about my first look. I’ll be back to get a closer look and to chat a bit more with the Gallery curator / owner Drew. The shows by the two artists open today, and will be up until August 5th.
Drew Simpson and Louie
At first I wondered if that was his real name. An artist who drew? Perfect considering that Drew really drew, at least once upon a time, It’s funny Drew is the second person I met today who was telling me about their past at OCAD, now OCADU, formerly OCA (when Erika went there back in the 1970s). We met the first (who lives across the street from us) earlier today as we went for a walk.
Here’s a bit about the Gallery from their website:
After a long illness and extensive rehabilitation, The Drey was founded by artist Drew Simpson in 2019. The first gallery was a small ground floor space in an historic 200 year old mill tucked away in Canada’s last registered hamlet, Glen Williams. From the outset, the Gallery was committed to reimagining the traditional art business model while celebrating and exhibiting the work of under-represented, often marginalized mid-career artists.
Evan Jones: Hulk Hogan, acrylic on canvas
There are two artists in the show, and other works on display at the gallery on Woodbine. It’s a really charming space that felt especially welcoming on a hot day, nice and cool inside even before I talked to Drew, who was preparing food & drink for the expected visitors.
And his dog welcomed me. The photo doesn’t show how sociable Louie was, a very friendly doggie.
Louie
Evan Jones & Patrick DeCoste are two artists whose styles are complementary even though contrasting.
Evan paints portraits of persons famous (like Hulk Hogan) and not so famous, or perhaps infamous when we mention his pictures of 9-1-1. There are two, and looking at his titles I’m not sure what title goes with the one I took (shown immediately below)
Evan Jones: (not sure of the title), acrylic on canvas
Patrick DeCoste is a Metis artist who (excuse the pun) drew me to the show. I wrote a bit about his work a decade ago, and I’ve followed his work through Facebook ever since. And you can see more of his work here. Patrick’s last pictures are in a fascinating post-modern style, alongside works that are very polished and seemingly from another century.
His new ones are also polished but contain a few ironic anachronisms tipping us off that no we can’t be looking at something old.
Patrick DeCoste: Dancing Deer
The show had just opened when I got there, deliberately early to avoid any sort of crowd, as I continue to be a caregiver who must avoid communicating any virus to family members. I made a quick visit, had a brief chat with Drew and stroked the lovely doggie who is apparently 14 years old. While he’s old I’m the one who had the senior moment, forgetting his name, which I’ll find out asap and insert into this writeup sometime soon. (==> Louie!)
It’s Canada Day. I live in Toronto and am a subscriber to the Canadian Opera Company.
I was remembering examples I’ve seen south of the border at the Metropolitan Opera. Yes they import talent, bringing in Italians to sing Verdi or Russians to sing Tchaikovsky. As I look back at the different people who have been entrusted with the leadership roles at the COC, I think they absorbed this philosophy perfectly, because the COC have been very good at imitating this part of the Met’s approach to bringing in talented foreigners instead of using the talent developed at home.
I wanted to celebrate the times when the Met set a good example for the new management of the COC who recently announced the departure of their General Director Perryn Leech and the interim appointment of David Ferguson. I want to call it a lesson because this has not been the way the COC has been directed.
Perryn Leech
David Ferguson
Decades of casting choices can’t be reduced to the few glib sentences I’m writing here, so please excuse me for oversimplifying.
The current conversation about the COC has given me a new appreciation for the choices made by Met management. I’m a big fan of Wagner’s Ring Cycle operas since my teens when I was fortunate to get to NY to see singers I idolized such as Jon Vickers or Thomas Stewart. The Met was understood to be the best opera house, if not in the world certainly anywhere in North America, regularly importing the best singers in the world. The song is right when it says “if you could make it there you could make it anywhere”, at least as far as the Met and opera were concerned.
Yet I remember being frustrated by the Met, who chose to cast James Morris as their Wotan from 1987 until 2009. I had heard and admired the Wotan of the English singer John Tomlinson, who was Wotan at Bayreuth from 1988-1992 for the Kupfer Ring, and again in 1994-1998 in the Kirschner Ring. The on-line journal MusicalCriticism.com called Tomlinson ‘the leading Wotan of his generation’ (September 2006).
Here’s a tiny peek at Tomlinson, a great singing actor, performing Wotan.
Yet Tomlinson only showed his face at the Met in 1999 for a difficult role in Moses und Aron, and would share the stage in the 21st century a few times with Morris: but playing smaller parts such as Fafner alongside Morris’s Wotan. The Met chose never to cast Tomlinson as Wotan.
What am I getting at? In 2024 I now see it differently.
The Met actually did something I have long wanted to see the COC do. James Morris is an American, a competent Wotan. John Tomlinson is British, “the leading Wotan of his generation” but never sang the role at the Met.
Why?
Perhaps that was because the Met were loyal to their American talent, casting Morris for over 20 years as their Wotan. The vote of confidence from management helped the singer perform with even greater self-assurance while also building the relationship with the audience in NY.
While I did not like Morris as much as Tomlinson he’s still quite good in the role as you can see.
Yes, I once thought of James Morris as a letdown compared to Tomlinson, wishing to see him in NY.
But now I’m thinking differently. I realize now that in fact the Met did something admirable in casting Morris. I have no idea whether there was a conscious effort to ignore Tomlinson, but by showing such loyalty to an American singer they also showed a commitment to their American audience, building their community of opera fans in the process. When you look at their history you see lots of American singers. I mentioned Thomas Stewart, another American. We assume that because they sang at the Met they must be the best in the world, and that opportunity helped their careers.
Let that be context for the job of the management of the COC, their approach to finding singers when they cast productions. The Met’s example can illustrate another approach than the one practiced since the time of Lotfi Mansouri. No we don’t need to always hire from abroad. We can promote Canadian talent, even if there might be someone with a better reputation in Europe.
I know of older singers whose careers are ending, winding down. It doesn’t help that they were not getting cast here in Toronto, singing for a supportive audience. And I know of younger ones who could use the work, who are forced to take day-jobs or to abandon their career.
Whoever is selected to be General Director can understand their position and its goals in many different ways:
Emulate Lotfi by hiring from abroad?
Or his predecessor Herman Geiger-Torel, whose COC was cast mostly by Canadians and only rarely sought talent outside the country.
I’ve heard rumblings that the COC is in debt. I wonder if the finances of the company would improve if their casts featured more Canadian singers: who surely are less expensive than imported singers.
I think in the 1970s it was exciting to see big stars come to Toronto, and this has often been understood as the best way to run the company in the decades since, even if the imports weren’t necessarily great singers or well-known to the Toronto audience. There may be a mistaken assumption that we must cast from outside Canada, as the management seem to be oblivious to the talented Canadians who can fill roles without the requirement to go outside the country. I could list dozens. Imports should only be cast when we can’t find a Canadian.
A Canadian General Director might have a greater sensitivity to Canadian talent. Perhaps it’s time to hire a Canadian in the role, and not just as their interim General Director. But whoever gets the job, Canadian or not, should be instructed by the Board of directors to make it their priority to search for Canadian singers, to build a complement of mature Canadians and not merely to hire the young singers of the Ensemble Studio to sing small parts, who are shown the door when their term is up. The COC could signal their commitment in a public mission statement. I would be happier as a subscriber if I knew my dollars were not automatically going to imported talent.
We shall find out eventually.
In the meantime let me wish you a Happy Canada Day.
I am another Canadian mourning the passing of Donald Sutherland.
When celebrities pass we may sometimes feel the loss more keenly than would seem reasonable for a stranger. I never met him even though I saw many of his films. I think the passing of a star sometimes hurts so much because their work is so much a part of our lives.
I am again muttering darkly to myself, because of course Donald Sutherland was never even nominated for an Academy Award. Yes yes he got an honorary statuette but for me that doesn’t count, not for recognition by peers. Sutherland was a gifted performer but perhaps because he didn’t look like he was “acting” (in quotes because I want you to hear me speaking the word with an implicit sneer on my face), he wasn’t recognized.
If you don’t look like you’re “acting” (sneered again) surely you’re doing it right.
I’ve eagerly read what others have said, noticing the roles that people name as favourites.
One reads through his IMDB listing, recalling roles, visualizing scenes.
Here’s the scene that came to mind as I recalled Donald Sutherland, likely the one I will always have in mind.
I mention this one because of how extraordinary this short scene is in one of my favourite movies, Oliver Stone’s JFK (1991), a film featuring several scenes that I think of as career best performances: Gary Oldman as Lee Harvey Oswald, John Candy as Dean Andrews, Joe Pesci as David Ferrie, Tommy Lee Jones as Clay Shaw, and especially Donald Sutherland as X.
The thing about this scene is that we’re hearing an eyewitness observer who must have integrity, must be believable. More than anyone else in this film, Stone leans on Donald Sutherland to create X in this scene. X is like Deep Throat except of course this is fictionalized.
I find I trust this speech as though it were true, an amazing delivery of a remarkable speech. In a real sense Stone has decided to make X the conscience of America, a witness to what went wrong and a reliable commentator on a conspiracy. Maybe upon closer observation one doesn’t believe it? But I listen to Donald Sutherland and I am completely persuaded.
And Stone also gets a big assist from John Williams underscoring this speech.
I will circle back to review Klute, Ordinary People, 1900, Start the Revolution Without Me, Kelly’s Heroes. We watched M*A*S*H just last week, Casanova is on the DVR already. Animal House? Six Degrees of Separation..?
As I glance through the listing on IMDB it’s a bit awe-inspiring how many roles in different genres, things I’d forgotten.
Oh yes he’s the father in Pride & Prejudice (2005), I think I recall at least one scene shot with him sitting down so that his imposing height wouldn’t disrupt the family dynamic, as sweetly smiling a Mr Bennet as one could want. And I see he had a small part in The Bedford Incident (1965), making me want to see that one again.
He’s gone of course, indecent that we are able to stare at his friendly face in so many roles, when his family has lost their patriarch.
It’s heart-rending to read Kiefer Sutherland’s tweet “With a heavy heart, I tell you that my father, Donald Sutherland, has passed away. I personally think one of the most important actors in the history of film. Never daunted by a role, good, bad or ugly. He loved what he did and did what he loved, and one can never ask for more than that. A life well lived.“
If that headline sounds like a mouthful you should hear Mahler’s 3rd Symphony. I just did tonight at Roy Thomson Hall.
The Toronto Symphony led by music director Gustavo Gimeno aided by members of the Mendelssohn Choir, the Toronto Children’s Chorus and alto Gerhild Romberger gave us this most ambitious composition, Mahler’s longest work at over 90 minutes in length. Whether celebrating the arrival of the god Pan, listening to nature in a forest or the angels singing of salvation, Mahler takes us on a cathartic journey from darkness to light.
It’s a very theatrical piece, sometimes requiring musicians to play from offstage, an effect that I always find magical even if I didn’t already know about Mahler’s spirituality.
I’ve heard several performances of Mahler’s 2nd symphony (titled “the Resurrection”) recently, already a massive undertaking. The 3rd Symphony is bigger, which might explain why it’s not undertaken as often. In his previous symphony we hear musicians offstage as though marching somewhere in the afterlife. Similarly this time we hear a posthorn playing from the back, and drums from outside somewhere. And that’s just the invisible voices.
No wonder when you consider the elaborate program Mahler gave the work in his correspondence, giving the six movements titles:
1: Introduction: Pan Awakes, Summer Marches in 2: What the flowers in the meadow Tell Me 3: What the Animals in the Woods Tell Me 4: What Mankind Tells Me 5: What the Angels Tell Me 6: What Love Tells Me
At first glance you might wonder: is he for real? Now imagine that a composer could actually write music to live up to such titles. The themes and sentiments being expressed are larger than life so no wonder the orchestra and its sounds must also be massive for such powerful ideas, although they are often contrasted with the most delicate melodies inserted between the climaxes, played as solos or by small groups of instruments. I’m very impressed with the way Gimeno restrains the TSO forces, often playing for long stretches in the softest most delicate sound, gradually building to climaxes to knock your socks off.
The first movement is roughly a half hour of drama, going from darkness to light, back and forth several times. The brass are especially challenged by a piece that is beyond all but the very finest orchestral players. The members of your 2024 Toronto Symphony have been carefully recruited to build a virtuoso ensemble capable of playing just about anything. That opening movement reminds me of the good old days of stereo buying, when one would take records into the shop with the intention of testing the sound coming from the devices, only this time we were testing Roy Thomson Hall with the phenomenal output of this elite band playing such powerful music.
The second movement is a superb contrast, beginning with a sweet minuet, at least on the surface. Soon Mahler subverts his own delicacy with quick quirky phrases from the woodwinds and strings, like 20th century modernism imminently breaking through the safer surface of the past. Gimeno always keeps it under control, wonderfully transparent in texture.
I find myself hypnotized by the sounds of that third movement, even if I don’t connect it in any way to that title I quoted above. Is it really “What the Animals in the Woods Tell Me”? I don’t believe titles matter that much except as a poetic departure point. I read this one much more in spiritual terms, especially the poignant sound of the posthorn drifting through the walls from the back. It’s one of several delightful melodies sprinkled among quicker passages, shifting moods.
Alto Gerhild Romberger
We begin the fourth movement with a deep alto intoning lines from Nietzsche’s Zarathustra questioning us. Romberger’s voice is as rich and dark a sound as any you will ever hear, to confront you with the simplest but most profound enquiry about the meaning of your life. We hear questions rather than answers.
Toronto Children’s Chorus, Toronto Mendelssohn Choir (photo: Allan Cabral)
Moments later the combined forces of the Toronto Children’s Chorus and some members from the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir take us in a very different direction, the voices of angels bursting with light in contrast to the darkness of the alto’s voice, and as a kind of reply to the alto questioning. This is but one of several moments to make me smile. And I was moved to tears, not for the first time.
The last movement is again an opportunity to discover the subtleties of Mahler, courtesy of Gimeno and his soft touch with the TSO. I have heard some interpretations that get louder sooner, a challenge both to the players and the listeners. Gimeno clearly knows his team, holding them back thoughtfully so that when we come to the climactic phrases they have plenty left. And it means our experience builds slowly to a magnificent climax.
TSO Music Director Gustavo Gimeno (photo: Allan Cabral)
The concert will be repeated Thursday and Saturday June 13 and 15.
Jonathan Crow, Gustavo Gimeno, Jean-Sebastien Vallee Dr. Zimfira Poloz, Gerhild Romberger Toronto Symphony Orchestra, Toronto Mendelssohn Choir (photo: Allan Cabral)
Friday night June 7th I witnessed the Canadian premiere of Thomas Pasatieri’s 1974 opera setting Kenward Elmslie’s libretto adapting Anton Chekhov’s 1896 play The Seagull, presented in concert by Opera by Request at the College St United Church.
It can be very poignant, that all the work that went into learning this modern work is for but the one performance June 7th, just as June 6th was for a single showing of Echoes of Bi-Sotoon. Consider by comparison that we learn how to sing or play through touchstones from Carmen or Marriage of Figaro or La boheme, so that the staging is a return to familiar conflicts or lyrical moments presented and sung over and over. I have enormous sympathy and gratitude for the work of Bill Shookhoff, the Music Director and pianist for OBR, learning an intricate piano part that was often subtle as quicksilver and then teaching a series of challenging parts to a large cast: who likely will never sing this again. Repetition– including the learning we do watching and hearing other performers– helps us figure out how to solve the puzzle of an operatic score, how to express the words and music, and to discover how best to portray the drama. With a new work in a single performance, I have to ask: did one really figure out the best ways to do the role? Chances are they would all be that much better in their second or third performance, relaxing into the part, enjoying the feedback from an audience and notes from the director.
Opera By Request artistic director William Shookhoff
I’m tempted to go back to the Chekhov to re-read the play. His greatest works have layers, multiple ways to be understood and interpreted. Pasatieri faced a special challenge in turning the play into an opera, given that whereas the 1896 play affords multiple readings and interpretation, as soon as you set a line or a speech to music with dynamic markings dictating tempo and how loud or soft it’s to be sung, you’re restricting the ambiguities, and more or less dictating the ways it can be interpreted. But when I think back to the two Otello adaptations I’ve seen (Rossini via OBR and Verdi), each in their way distorting the original, I suppose I must cut Pasatieri slack especially given the challenges with a play such as this. Where Shakespeare gives us long speeches inviting arias, Chekhov is more conversational, closer to being realistic, which makes the opera composer’s task even tougher. Pasatieri sometimes makes a very fluid arioso that races along almost as quickly as genuine speech, which is miraculous when one observes the usual problem of opera, that it takes much longer to sing a sentence or a paragraph than it takes to speak it. While I was not always onside, not fully aligned with what the composer was doing (or seemed to be going), Pasatieri has composed a great evening filled with some wonderful music, long lyrical stretches to suck you into the story and the character development. I don’t think I’m being fair in wishing that the music and the singing were quieter and subtler. But there it is. I sometimes find myself trapped in the contradictions manifested in opera, that extroverted medium for show-offs and performers. When you’re Carmen or Escamillo that works especially well, and so Arkadina and Trigorin match that better than a more inwardly directed communicator such as Constantine, whose poetic sensibility is closer to a figure such as Pelleas, so reticent and withdrawn as to defy the usual operatic approaches. He’s in such conflict throughout that his ending (shooting himself offstage) is perhaps inevitable. He will sing beautifully at times, but show misery and despair at other moments.
Opera composer Thomas Pasatieri, 1976. (Photo by Jack Mitchell/Getty Images).
I am not sure about the way the voices are used, whereby Arkadina is larger than life in every moment, while Trigorin seems much subtler. But then again most composers seem to be better with some characters than with others. Some of this may also be due to the tonal challenge of Chekhov, sitting on a fence between comedy and tragedy, a fence that’s harder to straddle once you set the words to music. I think for example that Pasatieri’s Arkadina (played by Monica Zerbe) pushes a comic sensibility that may frustrate a singer looking for something subtler. I found Andrew Tees as Trigorin much closer to that dividing line, often seeming very light in his delivery and effortless in finding a glamorous persona that’s at times humorous and likeable. Similarly Jenny Ribeiro as Nina is delightful while sometimes riding Pasatieri’s vocal line unavoidably into the more serious, even tragic dimension. She and Constantine (Michael Robert-Broder) get some of Pasatieri’s most poetic moments, lyrical singing going in a more impenetrably symbolist direction, the passages that I found most memorable, even hypnotic as they made time stand still. The symbolist element lurks in the very title of the play / opera, so long as one doesn’t seek to decode, not needing to find meanings.
There is a kind of conflict in Chekhov’s play that I saw presented in the opera, contending approaches to life and to art.
Anton Chekhov
One sees it when Chekhov gives us Medvedenko (Avery Krisman) nattering at Masha (Meagan Reimer) about the challenges of teaching and the expenses of family life, insensible to her dreams although aware that she’s bored with him. There is a pragmatic reality that has comic possibilities almost every moment from Sorin (Steve Henrikson) or the steady observations coming from Pauline (Katie Mills), in opposition to the artists (successful or not) that surround them. We get one version of art from Constantine set in opposition to the pragmatic success of Trigorin the novelist and the impatient language Arkadina the diva-like actress uses to dismiss Constantine’s play, sending a frustrated Nina running from the stage. Pasatieri does an admirable job in setting this up in his arioso, long flowing lines back and forth sometimes interrupted by quirky little passages of impenetrable mystery at the piano (i wonder what they sound like from an orchestra?). I was less happy in the last act when we get more conventionally operatic with a series of longer sequences that one might call arias. Ot maybe that’s how Chekhov wrote it, and I’m not being fair to the composer. But the work is never dull and sometimes very beautiful, which is especially troubling given that this is the first time Toronto got to hear a superb opera that’s deserving of more frequent productions. Indeed this was a concert version with piano, leading me to wonder: what would it look like with costumes, sets, what would they sound like employing an orchestra? Perhaps someday we’ll find out.
Bill Shookhoff (pianist/ music director) and Katie Mills (Pauline)
Shookhoff did an amazing job at the piano, giving us a detailed account of a difficult score with terrific clarity and wonderful cohesion from a cast who were tuneful, larger than life, never dull. Ah I wish I could see it again.
Opera By Request will be back June 22nd for Cilea’s Adriana Lecouvreur, and September 13th with Dvorak’s Jacobin co-produced with the Canadian Institute for Czech Music.
barczablog 