Runnicles’ Mahler 6

Posted on November 26, 2017 by barczablog

Tonight’s Toronto Symphony concert led by guest conductor Donald Runnicles was an affirmation of the value of live music.

There are things you do in person that you simply can’t capture on video let alone on CDs.  Tonight we heard Mahler’s 6th symphony.

Donald Runnicles close up (@Jag Gundu)

Conductor Donald Runnicles leading the Toronto Symphony (photo: Jag Gundu)

Mahler was an opera conductor, a theatre animal.  It sounds odd to say but it struck me, this composer who was capable of keeping audiences sitting spellbound for symphonies that often exceeded an hour in length.

How? Several of his symphonies are as arresting visually as they are musically.

  • In his 2nd Symphony we hear something like the trumpets of Judgment Day, calling the dead to arise, another small pack of brass sounding like ghosts marching in formation, and then an unaccompanied chorus announcing and affirming The Resurrection.
  • In his 3rd we hear a mysterious offstage serenade from what could be a heavenly instrument.

Tonight’s concert featured Mahler’s 6th Symphony, one of his most theatrical and arresting works. At times we hear

  • bells as though from afar
  • cow bells
  • a powerful hammer stroke on a drum

The theatrical visuals include the sudden exodus as players tippy-toe off the stage to work their magic in the wings. Or we watch a percussionist do his best Thor impersonation, lifting an improbable looking mallet.  Of course the real Thor takes no orders from a conductor, so the analogy fails in this case.

And Mahler fills this symphony with exquisite solo writing. At this point late in the tenure of Peter Oundjian one can’t help wondering whether each new guest at the podium might also be a suitor romancing this talented young orchestra.  That the TSO responded so well is certainly a good sign.

To begin, Runnicles led the TSO in Abigail Richardson-Schulte’s Step Up¸ another in the ongoing series of Sesquis, the 2 minute fanfares in celebration of Canada’s 150th Anniversary.  I’d call Step Up a friendly & whimsical creation, one that sidles up to us rather than blaring loudly, a fascinating series of textures that emerge in short order, making a lovely impression, leaving me wishing it could have gone on longer than its prescribed two minute length (but that’s the nature of the Sesqui commissions).

The TSO are back next week, first with the film Home Alone in concert, followed by three Best of Tchaikovsky concerts led by guest conductor Keri-Lynn Wilson.

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Keri-Lynn WIlson (photo: Daria Stravs Tisu)

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Angela Hewitt’s Keyboard Workout

Posted on November 19, 2017 by barczablog

That was quite a workout tonight, watching Angela Hewitt leading the orchestra while playing four different concerti on one concert programme with the Toronto Symphony at Roy Thomson Hall. She had a very busy evening, playing note-perfect as far as I could tell.

The two halves of the concert were similar, each one consisting of a Bach keyboard concerto & a Mozart piano concerto.

  • JS Bach: Keyboard Concerto #3 BWV 1054
  • WA Mozart: Piano Concerto # 9 K 271
    (intermission)
  • JS Bach: Keyboard Concerto # 7 BWV 1058
  • WA Mozart: Piano Concerto #20 K 466

While the orchestral forces were relatively small tonight, we were watching the A team, the top performers. For the Bach concerti the orchestra was a mere 28 players, including the principals in most of the sections, augmented for the Mozart by four additional wind players in the Jeunnehomme Concerto K271, and a few more for the D minor concert 466.

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Leader & pianist Angela Hewitt

Hearing this sort of program had the remarkable effect of making the Mozart sound edgy and new.

Roy Thomson Hall was packed for the occasion, and I think it’s fair to say that Hewitt did not disappoint. The audience reception got stronger with each piece.

The program repeats Sunday November 19th at 3 pm at the George Weston Recital Hall.

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Blade Runner 2049 and the first film

Posted on November 18, 2017 by barczablog

I have a good memory.

The first Blade Runner (1982 ) was not a big success, at least not at first.  I remember the review in the Toronto Star by Ron Base. He didn’t like it.  At one point (perhaps speaking of the Oscars?) he even spoke of “boring old Blade Runner”.  Heresy in my view!  It caught on later, via video, and with subsequent versions.  But at the time, I recall being furious that it lost out in the art direction category, where brilliant foresight & anticipation of the future  ought to be rewarded by rights.

Nope. Gandhi won for art direction. E.T. won for best visual effects.  I can understand that second one at least.

I was just fine with the voice-over version, where Harrison Ford’s character seemed to be a sci-fi version of Philip Marlowe from a Chandler novel.  But in 1982 people weren’t ready to deify Harrison Ford, indeed he was still viewed mostly as a pretty boy whereas his performance in the new film might get some attention from the Academy as best supporting actor.  He’s okay, as I’m not sure he really deserves it this time, whereas I would have been really happy to see him recognized for his work in 42 as Branch Rickey.   Oh well.

The decision to make a sequel –Blade Runner 2049–is a curious one, coming so long after the original. The first film was more of a cult hit rather than a commercial success.  And considering the huge cost of this new film, I wanted to make sure to see it before it vanishes from the cinema, a film that needs to be seen on the big screen.

There’s a great deal of violence in the new film, but come to think of it, that’s also true of the old film.  There was a great deal of what felt like gratuitous and even pornographic violence, particularly the way two of the women in the old film died.   Unfortunately the spectacular outbursts of aggression in the new film are every bit as bad as in the first one.

The first film was not short (roughly two hours), but this one feels really long (closer to three hours!). I can’t deny that there were times I was hoping it would end. That length seriously compromises the number of showings per night, making it harder to make money.  There was one moment when I considered walking out, for one of the most pointless homicides I have ever seen onscreen.  It made no sense except as part of the bloody spectacle. But we stayed, and I was glad I did.

The futurism of the first film was one of the first things to grab me, a sense of authenticity in its window on a possible future world.  At times the new film seems intent on replicating things we saw in the first film such as the streetscape, the food vendors and the pleasure units.  Maybe I need to see the film again, but I didn’t have the same sense of accuracy in their ability to predict a future world.  They were perhaps feeling a bit constrained, so intent on pleasing anal fans (like me??? gulp) that of course they had to give us a look at a much older Edward James Olmos’ character, and –as expected– he has his trademark origami.

Some of Vangelis’ music from the first film is replicated, perhaps as a leit-motiv we can recognize. The theme that I’m thinking of first appears early in the first film when we get a look at a big towering building that could be an icon for the bravest and most positive view of our future: a future that seems to have vanished.

The theme seems to be a proud motto proclaiming their faith in science & technology.  In the new film—conceived in a time when the future is a much scarier place than it was in 1982—the theme becomes much more wistful, like a fragment of a remembered dream upon waking.  But we do hear it.

 

That first film did give us glimpses of something more dystopian, but with every passing year, as our world gets more and more like those dark and creepy images, its prophecy seems more and more astute.  The second film has its moments but still stops far short of the obvious trajectories one can see on the news every day, whether in the realms of ecology & nature, in policing and weaponry, or in surveillance and authoritarianism.  Sadly, the realities of the past year seem to be outstripping this film, as a template for horror.

Director Denis Villeneuve certainly does a good job keeping things moving, in a very long movie. All of the characters seem genuine, and a couple are totally detestable; I will let you discover that for yourself.

I expect that there will be at least one more film after this one, considering that the story seems like the first chapter of a much longer epic.  But then again I’ve also heard that they aren’t making nearly the $$ they hoped to make (on a colossal investment after all), which might signal the end of the franchise, at least for the time being.

There are some wonderfully poignant moments. I won’t spoil it except to suggest that if you’ve seen the first film, you will be reminded of a great deal this time around.  It’s not unlike Episode 7 of Star Wars, that mostly gives us a story we’ve seen before, with only a few twists.  This time, too, we’re seeing characters from long ago, only older; this time it’s Rick Deckard rather than Han Solo, but we’re again watching Ford’s weathered face reacting to what’s happening around him.  Ryan Gosling and Robin Wright offer great performances.

I found the sound levels in the theatre a bit too high, such that whenever anything sudden happened, one would jump.  I look forward to seeing it in some video medium, when I don’t have to endure such a ridiculously loud soundtrack.

Those who like such things, will probably love the film and should try to see it before it leaves the big screen (my rationale in going tonight).

And those who don’t know the older film, or who don’t enjoy this sort of film (like the person sitting beside me often with her eyes closed)? Steer clear.

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Haus Musik: lavender love letter

Posted on November 17, 2017 by barczablog

I am always inclined to appreciate artists who choose the ambitious path.

Tonight’s Haus Musik in The Great Hall directed by Jennifer Nichols aimed to make some challenging connections. This multi-disciplinary work (live music, a DJ, video, painting, poetry in two languages and dance) spoke to me.

Throughout I was asking myself those words: does this speak to you?  We watched and heard four members of Tafelmusik playing in different groupings, namely Felix Deak (viola da gamba), Charlotte Nediger (harpsichord), Geneviève Gilardeau (violin) and Patricia Ahern (violin). They played works by Couperin, Rameau, Constantin, Leclair and Marais.

Sometimes DJ Andycapp’s creations would answer the acoustic sounds of the four instruments of bygone days with a more contemporary sound.

And Jack Rennie came strolling into the space accoutred as one of us, which is to say, in modern dress and carrying a drink.

And then it was a bit as though the music was infecting him at first, as he seemed to fight the impulse to dance as though it were an illness or a kind of madness. And I felt that the music spoke to him.  There was an answering voice, speaking in French as though paraphrasing the latent poetry of the moment.

On the big video screen we saw images of lavender, to complement the bunches hanging throughout the Great Hall, as Jennifer Nichols walked and danced in that virtual space while the live music was performed in our acoustical space below the screen, a suggestive series of images employing older buildings, as if to echo that older music.

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And so this abstract dynamic was enacted, of two people seeming to be moved and even transformed by the music. We watched both Rennie’s figure –dancing in spite of himself, reading and painting—and Nichols’ video image dressed both in modern clothes and something as if to match the baroque era of the music. Where Rennie seemed to begin in the present and get drawn into the past, Nichols first appearance was in the old guise, but later incarnated in modern dress among a rougher urban landscape.

I was reminded of something I saw a lifetime ago. Brian Macdonald took Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations and turned it into a series of dances, the pianist a woman, the chief dancer, a man responding to the poetry of that overpowering work.  I was especially ready for this after last night’s Triptyque, a largely abstract work whose dance was mostly dance qua dance, rather than dance as drama or story-telling.  Perhaps Nichols’ history with Opera Atelier makes her ready for a dance connected to a story, where the impulse to dance seems motivated by a scenario.  I invoke Macdonald’s work because in both instances we watch a kind of romance that is set in motion by the music-making. The proposition that is music, the demand that we open our hearts and imaginations to the beauty of the music, is ultimately a proposition that is seductive, at least at the platonic level, of one voice –the music– seeking someone to listen, someone to follow and perhaps dance, in response.

At the most fundamental level music calls for some kind of response, and our modern rigid silence doesn’t really match the way the music speaks to a normal person. Normal? I refer you to the children crying, who were being shushed (a morning after addendum after realizing that this is vague; there were a couple of small children crying during the show… why they were there in a dark club at night? a mystery) . It’s “normal” for parents to repress their kids, alas, and tell them to be silent.  OR we can look at how Rennie twitched to the music. My toes tap, but I’m among silent reverent watchers, as though in a church. I wish for something more pagan I guess, where we all join in the Dionysian revels.

You know that old saying “if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, is there a sound”? Another way of saying that might be “if music is played and no one dances: is there music”?

There is a natural romance in our encounters with the past. We are simultaneously of the present with our electronic devices, our modern clothes and sensibilities, and yet, of the time we encounter. Rennie’s impulse to dance is the music speaking to him, and mostly we stifle ourselves, except for our polite applause at the end.  I love that Nichols put all that on the stage for us, both the torture of it and the seductive beauty all at once.
I’m grateful for the experience and the romantic thoughts it provoked.

It spoke to me.

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Tremendous Triptyque

Posted on November 16, 2017 by barczablog

We’re in the twilight of Matthew Jocelyn’s time at Canadian Stage, a near- decade of unprecedented multi-disciplinarity.  We’ve had dance, we’ve had opera, and yes, theatre that combines disciplines.  We’ve had several offerings from Crystal Pite, from Robert Lepage, and now another brilliant mix tonight. As Jocelyn approaches the end of his tenure he’s going out with a bang.

MJ-hi-res

Canadian Stage Artistic & General Director Matthew Jocelyn

Triptyque is a three part performance—really three different works – created in the interface between dance and circus.

I can’t recommend it highly enough. See it if at all possible.   

The 7 Fingers (7 doigts de la main) circus troupe from Québec collaborated with three different choreographers, giving us three different works that sit in that ambiguous place that’s neither dance nor circus.

One of the things I love best is to be mystified, to be lost in something that I can’t figure out.  Whether I’m listening to a Beethoven symphony or a science fiction filmscore, the conventions usually serve to comfortably tell us where we’re going. The coded moments in works of recognizable genres let us relax a bit, pointing us towards predictable outcomes. But what if you don’t know where you are? Then you’re really in a magical place.

Here’s the published description of the three works on the program:

1. Anne et Samuel – Marie Chouinard (The Garden of Earthly Delights) Following in the footsteps of Chouinard’s signature work bODY_rEMIX/gOLDBERG_vARIATIONS, this duet between a dancer and hand balancer examines the relationship between gravity and moving bodies with awe-inspiring effect.

2. Variations 9.81 – Victor Quijada (Quebec) A quintet of virtuoso hand balancers search for absolute control of gravity, testing the relationship between stillness and movement.

3. Nocturnes – Marcos Morau (Spain) Subtly mixing circus and dance, the mesmerizing Nocturnes lures us into the space between wake and dreams where eight artists try to break free of their physical constraint.

Quijada’s quintet is perhaps the most gentle of the three, a piece that had me thinking of the word “virtuoso” throughout. We watched different groupings, always poised when on their hands but –irony- sometimes unsure on their feet. What we might think of as upside down is the place of calm repose for much of this piece.  In the dance continuum between drama / story telling on the one hand, and dance as pure dance on the other, Quijada has us very firmly at the latter end of the spectrum.  It’s beautiful movement for the sake of beautiful movement. Charming as this one was, for me it made the least impact, while the other two were overwhelmingly powerful.

Chouinard’s opener takes us into a realm I’d call disability drag, as we watch two phenomenally gifted artists moving in ways that seem to be or are actually compromised.  At the opening Samuel enters using crutches, while Anne is suspended on and in ropes, resembling a kind of bondage.  She is released by him almost inadvertently, as she comes down to the ground, only to join him on her own crutches.  Speaking as someone confronting my own growing decrepitude, there’s a universal struggle underlying this piece, as they fight gravity, at times climbing onto one another –again making me think of BDSM power struggles—and briefly achieving freedom from their crutches, before sinking back down. This is a piece of great tenderness, wonderfully beautiful at times.

Morau’s Nocturnes take us to the most natural place to explore the night, namely bed.  While this epic work includes the entire troupe, we begin with one person alone in their bed, that site of maximum vulnerability.  In time we are looking up at wonderfully original assemblies of rope above the bed, ridden by multiple aerialists.  Can you relate to my devout wish: that circus discover something meaningful and even representational, beyond just beautiful balletic moves in the air?  In this piece we’re truly experiencing drama, something profound and symbolic.

Morau achieves this, anchoring his aerial explorations around the bed.  All the movements seem profoundly psychological in this context.  We even get moments of delicious surrealism, which I won’t spoil for you.   And eventually the bed itself flies.

If you are a dance or circus practitioner, or at least a fan, please find a way to see one of the remaining performances of Triptyque (running until Nov 19, with two performances Saturday) at the Bluma Appel Theatre.

You will be inspired as never before.

 

 

 

 

Posted in Dance, theatre & musicals | 2 Comments

Putnam County: nerds rule

Posted on November 12, 2017 by barczablog

The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee (PCSB) is not just a musical but also an irresistible evocation of youth, concealed erections and performance anxiety.  A spelling contest is the microcosm, and in this world the nerds rule: not unlike music theatre itself come to think of it.

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The students surround the teacher at the Spelling Bee (photo: Scott Gorman): clockwise from left, Vanessa Campbell, John Wamsley, Erin Humphry, Amy Swift, Braelyn Guppy, Hugh Ritchie and Kevin Forster

Hart House Theatre opened their production Friday night, with tonight’s second performance concluding the first weekend of three.  In some respects PCSB is every bit as grueling as its subject, 100 minutes of fast patter, flashy dance-moves and tight cues for laughs without intermission, to put Rossini to shame.  My companion commented that it’s like a modern opera in some respects, a very fine-tuned machine to tell a charming little story, amuse you with its humour and please you with its tunefulness.

Considering that the run has just begun they’re already very tight on the HH stage.  While tonight’s show surely included lots of friends & family –packing the theatre –the laughs were huge and I don’t just mean my own.  There’s lots of glory to share between Director Cory Doran, Music Director Giustin MacLean and Choreographer Sabrina Hooper.  This is a high energy show, whether in those moments when one person is trying to spell a word, or when the company starts dancing to a song laying someone’s emotions bare.  As far as I could tell there were no dead moments, no false starts, nothing that didn’t run smoothly except for some facial hair that may have been deliberately contrived to set up a series of gags.  And if that was a real problem (I have my doubts), they effortlessly turned it into an asset.

Speaking of nerds, the cast offers a full range of quirky people, possibly reminding you of someone you know.

  • Logainne, the politically outspoken girl with gay parents
  • Chip, the eager boy with the bulge in his pants
  • Leaf, the boy with the inferiority complex
  • William, the boy whose spelling is infallible, but whose name is always mispronounced
  • Marcy, the girl so perfect that she dreams of failure
  • Olive, the girl whose parents don’t show up but who loves her dictionary
  • Rona, the teacher who is a former winner
  • The Vice-Principal who needs a restraining order
  • Mitch, the ex-con performing community service

The show gives everyone at least one great moment.

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Carson Betz with the Putnam County company (photo: Scott Gorman)

Carson Betz as Mitch, our ex-con, has a stunning voice used to great advantage.  John Wamsley as Chip gets lots of laughs, especially in a brief cameo that stops the show near the end (if I tell you more I’d spoil the joke).  Braelyn Guppy is equal to the challenges as Marcy, managing to be impressive yet still very likable.   Vanessa Campbell’s Olive and Kevin Forster’s Leaf both win us over with their tender vulnerability.  And then there’s Hugh Ritchie’s quirky rebel William, and Erin Humphrey’s intense Logainne.  Amy Swift & Art Carlson as the two teachers function as our hosts, to keep the contest and the show running smoothly, almost like stage management.

PCSB runs until November 25th at Hart House Theatre.

 

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Jennifer Nichols talks about Haus Musik Crossing / Traversée

Posted on November 11, 2017 by barczablog

I invited Jennifer Nichols to talk about Haus Musik.

If I understand the concept Haus Musik aims to do what every classical music company seeks: re-packaging and re-inventing their content in new ways in the quest for that elusive younger demographic, in search of new audiences.

I asked Jennifer to talk about Crossing / Traversée, their newest performance coming up this Thursday November 16th that she directs at The Great Hall.

Hausmusik is a wonderful recurring annual event developed by William Norris of Tafelmusik with the intention of presenting Baroque music in a non-tradition context and supported by other disciplinary elements.

Understandably, the audience for period music is quite niche, and this is such a shame, as it is exquisite and more people should be exposed to it, particularly a younger demographic. This is a not uncommon problem in the arts. For example, classical ballet, opera and classical music struggle to build and maintain audiences. It is even more difficult for something as niche as Baroque music. How do we change this and ensure its longevity and audience support through future generations?

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There are many arts organizations endeavouring to do this, and with Haus Musik, an audience is served period music in a manner that is perhaps more enticing.  Directors are offered a platform on which to experiment with their own unique way of presenting the music, and the result is different every time.

William approached me with this great opportunity, and the first steps for me were to begin with a concept and develop the supporting elements from there.

My concept was formed from a question I’ve asked myself for decades, which is ‘why does Baroque music resonate so deeply with me when I had no early exposure to it?’ Long before I started dancing with Opera Atelier (and hence was exposed to it extensively), I felt a deep connection with it, far deeper than the type of enjoyment I get from other styles of music.

The more I thought about it the more the idea intrigued me. Why do certain works of art, places, or people make us feel as if we know them intimately, perhaps from another time?

Version 2

When something resonates with us far beyond what is rational to us, is it indicative of something we are unaware of? The concept of time perhaps being ‘non-linear’ started to form, and from there a loose narrative took shape.

The result is a love story that reaches beyond the boundaries of time; in fact, time is fluid in their circumstance. Their story unfolds neither in one time or another, but in multiple.

It’s perhaps an esoteric concept, but I think it lends itself well to the music we are presenting and the intention behind it, which is that it is timeless and relevant regardless of context or date.

Version 2

The other parameter I was given to work with was the repertoire, which is entirely French Baroque, and so I ‘went to town’, so to speak, with everything French. I wanted the show to be immersive and engage all of the senses, and so the audience will be immersed in a world of film, visual art, dance, music, poetry, all bathed in a cloud of lavender. There will be LOTS of lavender. Everywhere. 😉

I’ve been incredibly blessed to have built a team of artists and collaborators who are truly excited about the concept and have come along on this ride in a fully committed way from day one. In addition to the Tafelmusik artists who are open minded and totally on board with what we are developing.

I have a brilliant DJ and electronic music artist named Andycapp, who has put together a gorgeous set of music to complement the Baroque. This musical transition from past to contemporary and vice versa is lovely, because they highlight and lend a nod to each other without being too distracting.

Visual artist and filmmaker Patrick Hagarty has lent a few of his works of art to support the narrative and these canvases will be featured. He and I have also developed and shot a film that is a stunning complement to the narrative and will be teased throughout the show. Without giving too much away, I think it helps transport the audience in and out of time periods in a very effective way.

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Dancer Jack Rennie has been a friend and colleague for a decade and it has been thrilling to work with him one on one to develop the character and choreography. I highly respect him as a dancer and actor, and his approach to the work. We have spent a great deal of time not only in movement creation but in discussion about motivation and intent and really fleshing out ‘who he is and what his purpose is in the show’. I appreciate how keen he is to develop concept and not simply present aesthetically pleasing elements.

There is also a poetic element woven throughout, in the form of a letter, which gave me an opportunity to flex my writing muscle. 😉

Hopefully it all comes together; there are so many moving parts!

A very important part of the whole process for me was to ensure that whatever unfolded was ultimately a ‘supportive’ context for the music, which is above all else, the focus of the show. Yes, there is a narrative, and yes, there are other artistic disciplines involved, but these should be platforms on which to push the music to the forefront and help the audience experience it in a new way. Which will hopefully make Baroque music more accessible.

At the end of the day, we want the audience to walk away feeling that they really want to experience more of it. Sometimes it’s all in the packaging.

*****

Haus Musik present Crossing / Traversée Thursday, 16 November 8:00 PM at The Great Hall 1087 Queen Street West.

 

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Sofia Coppola Retrospective at TIFF

Posted on November 10, 2017 by barczablog
Sofia Coppola: A Name of Her Own —

Retrospective revisits the works of the
American auteur following her recent
Cannes Best Director win

December 8 — December 17
TIFF Bell Lightbox

 

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The Virgin Suicides (1999)
The Beguiled (2017)
Marie Antoinette (2006)

“The writer-director of ‘Lost in Translation’ and ‘Marie Antoinette’ has made the malaise of the privileged her special turf. Ennui is her milieu. And Coppola has a talent for revealing its existential and cultural dimensions.”
— Lisa Kennedy, Denver Post

“[Coppola] transports you to a place you’ve never been, makes you feel a sensation that’s familiar, yet leaves you different than you were two hours earlier.”
— Christy Lemire, The Associated Press

With her recent Cannes Best Director win for The Beguiled — making her only the second woman ever to receive this accolade in the Festival’s 71-year history — Sofia Coppola has further cemented her reputation as an American master. Known for the dreamlike quality of her films, and narratives that focus on the ambitions and desires of her young female characters, Coppola has a fresh voice that offers a distinct female vision in a largely male-dominated industry. This latest prize a list of prestigious accolades that includes a Best Original Screenplay Academy Award for her second feature Lost in Translation, and the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival for Somewhere.

An alumna of the California Institute of the Arts, where she studied photography and fashion design, Coppola is also known for the prominence that costume and other design elements have in her films, not to mention that fact that her multiple collaborations with fashion houses — most notably Marc Jacobs —  have earned her a name in that field as well.

Running December  8 to 17, Sofia Coppola: A Name of Her Own offers an opportunity to revisit the works of the American auteur, showcasing all six of her feature films. The programme also offers a rare opportunity to see two of Coppola’s earlier works in 35mm: The Virgin Suicides(1999) on December 8; and Marie Antoinette (2006) on December 10 and 15.

Click here for complete schedule or visit tiff.net.
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Questions for Madeleine Jullian: directing GASH

Posted on November 8, 2017 by barczablog

Madeleine Jullian has worked as an actor, writer, and director in Berlin, London, and Toronto.  She produced and directed Nick Dipchand’s solo show The Nature of a Bullet as part of the Toronto Fringe in 2013 and produced a double bill of Sheldon Rosen’s one-act plays, New Order and The Grand Hysteric, at Ryerson University’s Abrams Theatre in 2015.

Madeleine’s written works include Prize Horse, performed at the 2012 New Voices Festival, as well as bagged, created with the 2013 InspiraTO Playwriting Academy.  She also won Pat the Dog’s 24-Hour Playwriting Contest with her play Bunk*R in 2014.  Other directing credits include Caitie Graham’s earlier work Paradise Comics (2014), Positive I.D by Peter Dickinson (2012), and Laurie Campbell’s Just to See You Smile (2012).

Madeleine directs Caitie Graham’s GASH that opens Nov 22nd at Alumnae Theatre.  Let’s find out more: about Madeleine and GASH.

1) Are you more like your father or your mother?

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Madeleine Jullian

Both, I think. My mother studied literature and taught for many years, and my dad ran a microelectronics company for decades.  So, at first glance, it may look like I get my artistic sense from my mum and my analytical side from my dad.  But my mum is intensely logical and likes to extract facts – she could be silent for much of a conversation, only to come out all of a sudden with one perfectly-crafted sentence that summarizes what we’ve been discussing, changes the perspective on the situation, and also happens to be extremely funny.  And my dad – well, he’s a visceral storyteller.  You should watch him play the board game Articulate: he becomes utterly possessed with the word he wants you to guess.I could go on, but I feel I’ve inherited all of these things in strange ways.

2) What is the best or worst thing about what you do?

The lack of structure.  I was an athlete for a long time, so my days, years even, were intensely planned out.  I could tell you what I would be doing at a 5pm on a Thursday three years ahead of time. Since graduating I often feel like I’m treading water, instead of swimming to my destination.  But that’s a personal problem.

3) Who do you like to listen to or watch?

I’m definitely a people-watcher.  I like to see what I can know by looking at a person.  Do they have their employee ID on them?  Who do they work for?  Why did they choose that shirt this morning?  Are they in pain?  How did they come to take on that particular posture to get through their day?  We give off so many clues about ourselves without knowing it.  Where is that particular individual going?  What does their way of moving say about them?  Where do they hold tension in their body?  Oh, and I love period dramas, the Bourne films, Luther, and Broadchurch.  I once waited three hours in the rain to get a photo with Ruth Wilson, because she was both in Luther AND in my favourite version of Jane Eyre.  Rough ride man.

4) What ability or skill do you wish you had, that you don’t have?

I wish I could time-travel, but somehow I don’t think that’s what you mean.

[actually that’s an awesome answer…!]

Or see into the future, but I guess that would be useless if I could travel in time?  Then again, if I could see into the future, then I wouldn’t have to worry about being seen by my future self and therefore ruining the universe.

But then, I wouldn’t be able to live in the past, which I think is ultimately what I’m after… I think I would do really well as a medieval farmer.  Actually, I did this thing on a website once that said in a previous life I was a medieval farmer.  Wish I could remember that.  I bet I was like the second person who said it would be a good idea to use fertilizer.  Not the first person, nah, but the first person’s friend who was like, that is a good idea, you should pursue that, and what’s more, I’ll do it too.  And then we both get invited to talk about our experience to the king who’s like, you two are smart, and then I can go, I’m not, your majesty, but my friend is.  She’s incredibly smart, and funny, too.  And then me and my great friend would go off and have some mead or whatever booze they drank back then and celebrate a little before heading back to our land to rock our new farming practices for the next ten years or so before we die of overwork.

5) When you’re just relaxing and not working, what is your favourite thing to do?

Hot tea in bed, wine and chips, lattes and walking.  I also like to buy scratchcards and call out the numbers like I’m in a bingo hall.

More questions about GASH.

1- Please describe how you came to be part of the team preparing GASH. 

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Playwright Caitie Graham

I directed Caitie’s play Paradise Comics when it was part of the New Voices Festival back in 2014.  It was a great experience for both of us, and I’ve been a massive fan of her work ever since.  She sent me previous drafts of what was then called POSE BALL, so I feel I’ve been with the play for some time.  I remember reading early drafts while sitting in a coffee shop in South London.  She had already had an excerpt of the play produced as part of the New Ideas Festival at Alumnae, as well as a staged reading of the play at Tarragon, so when Caitie asked me whether I would consider directing it for Alumnae’s Fireworks Festival, I was honoured that she would think of me.

We then worked on Sama Kokabi to be our Stage Manager.  Sama is a stunning artist and incredible SM – she’s also one of the best people I know.   She’s worked with us many times, and always brings a caring and resourceful energy to the room.

Once Sama agreed to come on board, the team was set.

samakokabi

Sama Kokabi

2- The social media storm surrounding Harvey Weinstein & the #metoo conversation makes this play feel very timely, in its concerns with consent & sexual violence.  How has that impacted your feelings about the project?

Once in a philosophy elective a young woman began her in-class-participation-mark-getting comment by saying, “I’m not a feminist or anything but…” There is definitely a lot coming to light recently, but this is not a recent fight.  My mother went to a bar with some friends who joked she should get on the table and dance for them.  My grandma was pawed down at neighborhood dances.  As the metoo hashtag shows, surprise surprise, there’s something wrong with how things are run, and we’re getting sick of it.  I hate “timely” pieces.  Caitie did not write a “timely” play.  She wrote what was true to her, what she wanted to explore, and it’s that truth that speaks to me, the story of these three young people.  I don’t jump on bandwagons, and I don’t feel like talking about sexual violence being flavour of the month.

3- How would you describe yourself & your previous work(s)? 

I’ve worked as a director, actor, writer, producer… and done a shedload of retail and customer service.  When I was in school I wrote a play called Prize Horse, about a sinister bet between a brother and sister.  I’ve also written a ten-minute play about a young man confronting a piece of rope after his father has died by suicide. I’m fascinated by darkness and the thoughts we don’t want anyone to know we have. When I read something in the news about a horrifying crime, I try to think, in what kind of place would I have to be to even consider committing that crime?  Psychologically, financially, emotionally, logically.  And I think that’s what my work is about.  Just trying to see where people are coming from.  So in terms of directing, that’s what feeds my hunger for new work.  I love mining text, digging through layers, thinking about characters and the shape and structure of scenes and plays, and what’s motivating all these people.  And when I get in the rehearsal hall, it’s about giving actors the most delicious things to work with.  You can just see when a note or a thought fires an actor up.  That’s when you shut up and let them try it, and see how you can best shape that drive to give the actor the most to play with.

4- GASH tells an existential CSI kind of story, piecing together events between a woman and those around her.  Please unwrap some of the politics for us.   

Ah, if we’re going to start name-dropping shows, then I’m a Law and Order: Special Victims Unit kind of a woman. Olivia Benson, you know what I’m saying?  But GASH doesn’t even deal with the justice side of things, we don’t even enter that reality.  It’s not even brought up as an option, because it’s basically understood that if Cata decided to go to the cops, she would be out of the police station with an “unfounded” stamp on her forehead quicker than Harvey Weinstein ejaculated into that potted plant (allegedly of course).  How sad that seeking justice is not even on this young person’s mind.  So instead we see their trying to figuring it out themselves.  When you know you will never get justice, when you’re not even sure what justice actually means, how do you move forward?  Cata so desperately wants to be in charge of her own life, but Jules, and even her friend Isa, take that agency away from her in different ways.

5- Caitie Graham’s work often concerns youth and their particular concerns. Please talk a bit about what that means to you, in terms of process & how you direct the script.

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Meara Khanna

This is a really tough time for young people.  I didn’t have facebook until university; this next generation doesn’t know a world without youtube.  They’re smart, crafty, resourceful, and critical, but it’s hard to grow up and figure out who you are when your phone can tell you via snapchat, facebook, twitter, Instagram, etc. how the rest of your acquaintance is living a better, more glamorous, more fulfilling life than you. Now, dramatically, of course, this is supremely fascinating, and to watch young people play young people is really cool as a director.  In theatre school you get used to seeing twenty-somethings play all roles, regardless of age, which is part of the training.

Seeing young actors play young people, it brings a whole new energy to the room. Both Meara Khanna, who plays Cata, and Blake Murray, who’s playing Jules, are relatively close in age to the characters (17 and 23).  It gives them an immediate grasp on the material that an older actor may struggle with.  And Caitie, of course, knows the play intimately, so it’s particularly fun to see her come at the text as a performer.  I get to see what weird and wonderful things they bring to the work and then we go from there!

*******

FW-GashbgCaitie Graham’s GASH runs Nov 22 – 26 at Alumnae Theatre, directed by Madeleine Jullian.  (Information & tickets)

SPECIAL EVENTS

Thursday November 23
Free Panel Discussion: Navigating Consent
Moderated by Anne Wessels, director of education at Tarragon Theatre. Our panelist is Andrew Townsend, coordinator of teen programming at Planned Parenthood Toronto.

Saturday November 25
Writer/Director Talkback with Caitie Graham and Madeleine Jullian

 

Posted in Dance, theatre & musicals, Interviews | 1 Comment

Martin Geck: Beethoven’s Symphonies

Posted on November 8, 2017 by barczablog

Sometimes the release of books and records seems serendipitous.  If I look closer at the process I might start to feel cynical. I will cling to the positive magic implicit in serendipity, naive though it may seem. geck

For instance, here I was, beginning to work my way through the new Tafelmusik complete Beethoven Symphonies just released this fall, and what should I see on the new books shelf at the Edward Johnson Building Library?  Beethoven’s Symphonies, a new book from Martin Geck, translated by Stewart Spenser.  The German edition came out in 2015 so it really is quite new.   A book like this, however musicological and rigorous it may be, feels like a bigger better version of liner notes for a record, especially when you’re listening to the recordings every day.

Maybe it’s not such an unlikely coincidence, considering how much keeps being written about Beethoven.  At the very same time that I noticed Geck’s symphony book, I also spotted Barry Cooper’s The Creation of Beethoven’s 35 piano sonatas, another book that can legitimately carry “2017” on its call number.   There’s always lots of Beethoven study in the world.  I’ve been through the symphony set, one end to the other twice, listening to each of them twice along the way, so I’m fairly swimming in Ludwig van B.  Mostly it’s a constructive – additive sort of thing, where having the music saturating my ear complements the reading.

For the most part Geck seems to have a rare understanding of the composer, in a book full of insights.There have been moments when I pushed back a bit.  When Beethoven was being extolled to the skies at the expense of Franz Schubert I had to push the pause button for a moment.  Must we play those 19th century musicological pissing contests, declaring that my composer pees further than yours ergo he’s better? It’s tricky because Geck has a very ironic style at times, and I’m decoding a translation that might have emasculated or embellished what he actually meant.

Can’t we all just get along?

In a chapter segment titled “Delusions of Virility: A Constant in Beethoven’s Symphonies?” –a segment proposing an intriguing frame for Beethoven’s symphonies– we see the following from Geck:

Are delusions of virility a characteristic of Beethoven’s symphonies as such? Strictly speaking, there is no “As such” because each work merges with its own reception to such an extent that it is almost impossible to separate the two. Even so, comparisons are still possible –not only between Beethoven and his contemporaries but also between Beethoven’s individual works.  Against the background there is no denying that Beethoven’s symphonic music admits of far more gestures of power than Schubert’s, for example, and that Schubert was able to achieve the mellow calm of his great C-major symphony only after he had failed to achieve the heroic Beethovenian ideal in his unfinished symphony in B minor, a failure that he himself saw in an entirely positive light.

It’s really hard to argue when you’re inside someone’s head, wondering just what he means. We’re less in a scholarly discussion and more in a kind of poetic labyrinth of allusive phrases.  I wish I knew what was really meant by “gestures of power”, as I can’t really calibrate such moments as the powerful fanfare that opens the first movement of Schubert’s 9th, or the call to battle that opens its finale. Surely those are gestures of power…? Perhaps it’s problematic because some of this virility is not at all delusionary, leading us away from the big metaphor Geck is creating.

I made this quote and took issue with it not so much to take Geck down, as to suggest another way to read this book.  When I recall my joyful experience with the Tafelmusik CDs, it places this book into a slightly different category, less musicology than entertaining guidebook.  If Geck isn’t required to explain what he means, then it’s wonderfully enjoyable as a way to open up the conversational space, rather than to close & conclude the discussion.  I’m far happier with that tendency, as though the symphonies are prayers or meditations and Geck’s commentary the marginal gloss, illuminating our reading/ prayer. It really does work, as one doesn’t have to fight when the commentary is presented in a somewhat non commital and ambivalent tone; even the Schubert quibble I mention above ceases to be problematic if we see this as Geck’s celebration of the achievements of the era (and of both composers) rather than anything precise or definitive.

One has to let go of one’s rigor, to “lighten up”.

So when Geck asks about the sequence of keys for Beethoven’s symphonies, it’s more of a provocation than the introduction to something rational; and no wonder that the question is posed in a chapter segment titled ”On Idle Speculations.” First time through, especially after the recent conversations I’ve had with Jenna Simeonov about keys (see her recent piece here, and something I suggested she read, from a few years before), I was almost angry that the writer seemed to be copping out, ducking the question altogether:

C major, D major, E-flat major: these are the tonics of the first three symphonies. But why is the next symphony in B-flat major rather than the expected F major? And why is there no G major, but instead two symphonies in F major and one each in C minor and D minor in addition to C major and D major?

Argh…!  Wrong question surely. It’s already profoundly remarkable that the first three symphonies have this sequence. Does it mean anything? Must it mean anything at all?  How about asking those questions, framed against the certain knowledge that no composer had ever set symphonies in this kind of sequence.

AHHH..! but then again, if we back off lighten up, and allow Geck to have his fun? if we stop treating this as musicology and instead let it be a bit of a romp –albeit with a Beeethoven soundtrack—I think we’re in much better shape, and far less likely to have our noses out of joint.

One of the things I really love about this book is how new it all sounds, how fresh and modern Beethoven seems in Geck’s eyes and by implication, in those new recordings that I’m playing.  Geck has us immersed in the cultural preoccupations of the time as to make the symphonies sound fresh and even radical.     So go get this book as your companion to listening to the symphonies, whether it might be the new Tafelmusik recordings or something older.  No matter what recording you put on, Geck makes the music sound fresher and newer.

That’s a good thing.

Martin Geck’s Beethoven’s Symphonies, subtitled “Nine Approaches to Art and Ideas” is from University of Chicago Press, translated by Stewart Spencer.

Posted in Books & Literature, Music and musicology, Reviews | Leave a comment