MONDOmagazine

By Sean Kelly

Is his leitmotif also in 3D?

Even their greatest fans have to admit that 3-D movies are still a gimmick. Has anyone argued seriously for the inclusion of the third dimension as a vital next step for cinema? Certainly not these films’ makers, who capitalize on the gimmicky quality inherent in the endeavour and always make sure to include some sort of visual gag filmed for the 3D effect. I remember watching Beowulf and staring down the tip of a spear or, for a more ridiculous example, seeing Brendan Fraser spit out his toothpaste directly into my face in Journey to the Center of the Earth 3D. Yet, despite their gimmicky quality, 3D movies are enjoying their biggest boom since the 1980s when moviegoers were lining up for 3D sequels to Jaws, Friday the 13th, and The Amityville Horror.

The current wave can be traced back to the development of IMAX and its 3D technology. James Cameron’s 2003 documentary Ghosts of the Abyss was my first experience watching a truly 3D film. The next step in the development was when The Polar Express was released in 2004 and became the first feature-length IMAX 3D animated film. A year later, Chicken Little helped debut the Real D 3D system, which allowed 3D films to be shown in normal theatres using only one projector (instead of the two usually needed for 3D films).

Fraser and Niles' most perilous adventure yet.

After animated films took off in 3D, the next step was to bring 3D back to live-action feature films. This was a slow process. There were always the documentaries, but those were specifically filmed for 3D, while most features were later converted in post-production. The exception to this would be Robert Rodriguez’s films Spy Kids 3D (2003) and The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl (2005), which featured scenes in 3D filmed with the same technology as Ghosts of the Abyss.

The first live action film to undergo a 3D conversion was Superman Returns in 2006. For the film’s IMAX release, about twenty minutes of footage, mostly major action sequences, were converted to 3D. However, I have to say it is a jarring experience holding the 3D glasses in your lap for most of the film, only to put them on for five minutes at a time when cued. The process was repeated the next year for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which thankfully saved the 3D effects for the climax of the film, instead of spreading them throughout.

Why so 3D?

Finally, last year, Journey of the Center of the Earth became the first live action feature to be filmed and released in the Real D format. Though this film is unlikely to be labeled a landmark, with Journey the door was now open for a new era of truly 3D cinema.

The wave grows with the recent release of My Bloody Valentine 3D, which received the widest release so far in the Real D format. The format is picking up attention from some big name directors. Along with the expected crop of animated 3D films, we can expect new 3D live action films, such as James Cameron’s Avatar and Tim Burton’s new adaptation of Alice in Wonderland.

With 3D cinema progressively moving more and more into the mainstream, you can find yourself amazed at how far a format that began with B-movies in the 1950s has developed. This is one gimmick that may actually outlive its gimmickiness.

Hiding said lumps: Bret McKenzie + Jemaine Clement of Flight of the Conchords

Boys and girls with exquisite taste that includes freakishly huge lips and Kiwi accents, your quest is an end. Season Two of Flight of the Conchords is so on. If you haven’t yet taken the time, please turn your attention to something I think we can all appreciate, a song from Episode 2, Sugar Lumps:

Video courtesy of HBO via YouTube (2009)

Dick in a Box appropriately had its day, and Milkshake, while brilliantly produced, took itself too seriously. The only song that comes close (though unfortunately, not at all a parody) was Riskay’s 2007 track Smell Yo Dick.

This stark resemblance lies primarily in the sense that if these tracks were pounding in some godawful Richmond Street locale, the patrons wouldn’t notice the difference. They’d still bump and grind like Fergie herself was the MC.

I wonder if they get Fergie stand-ins at parties in the UK. You know, like they did with Paris Hilton? Understandably, careers are beset with highs and lows, but I think once an individual’s reached that point, it’s time to spare the common man and take up night school.

Virtual Light [Viking Press, 1994]
By William Gibson

By Rachel Kahn

I’m that reader who, upon starting a gripping novel, can hardly maintain a conversation in the real world on any topic but said book, until I’ve finished it. It’s the perfect hibernation activity, because I don’t hear the hail hitting the window, or notice that the pizza delivery man is an hour late due to the weather. That’s why winter is my catch-up season: I can put a dent in my reading list.

While in San Diego (I think I was at Ocean Beach?) last fall, I bought myself a fanned-out paperback of Virtual Light by William Gibson. [Aside: In a related unfortunate turn of events, I also bought All Tomorrow's Parties, and not having internet access to clarify for myself, and with neither book stating anything on the subject, read that one first, unaware that it was the third in the Bridge trilogy that Virtual Light begins, and, I have to say, the weakest link.]

Virtual Light tells the stories of Berry Rydell, ex-cop, and Chevette Washington, bike courier, when her petty theft of a pair of dark glasses and his sketchy new employers bring them to the centre of a power struggle over the future shape of San Francisco. The city, at this point in Gibson’s near future, is split in two by a collapsed Golden Gate Bridge; on the bridge is a vibrant, autonomous community of squatters, and that community becomes a character in its own right. If it’s starting to sound like a pulp paperback, that’s because it is. Gibson’s an expert at throwing together things that are awesome, badass, and thought-provoking. Though this book isn’t heavy on the thought-provoking, it’s there if you want it.

Virtual Light was an incredibly fun read, and I was completely immersed in the world of the bridge. The romanticism of a bike-courier-loft-nesting-bar-hopping lifestyle did a number on my brain. Even now, I find myself pondering what it would take to get my poor bike up and running for spring. (Let it be known I am a terrible biker.) I’m saddened by the fact that Gibson’s bridge is not a real place, and that San Francisco will never have anything like his pseudo-utopic shantytown, no matter how long I wait to visit.

Gibson’s books always impart upon me an incredible sense of place. Reading this novel shortly after riding the train from San Diego to Seattle gave me a wealth of personal images of California to flesh out Gibson’s evocative but concise descriptions. There’s a kind of pathos to California, a sense of loss or rubbed-off glamour that pervades most of the contemporary fiction I’ve read about it (thanks, Coupland); and Gibson uses it consciously to add a sheen of romance. It stayed with me in the form of visual vignettes: the road at night where Berry sees the holographic girl; the foggy ocean view from the top of Skinner’s place on the bridge; the dark, chaotic, glowing hotel room where Chevette steals the glasses; the crowded body mod shop where she meets Sammy Sal. And of course, the bridge. The bridge feels to me like an infusion of a non-North American manifestation of shantytowns and markets into the foggy, crowded, bohemian world that I imagine San Francisco to be.

Gibson does write a lot of throwaway villains, though — while I was happy to keep things mysterious for most of the book, the ending would have made more sense if I’d had a better understanding of the power structures of the upper-class bad guys: instead, like Berry and Chevette, I was mostly mystified at how it all worked out. Key figures that required more information: Chevette’s ex-boyfriend and the hacker crew; Warbaby’s secretive employers and their plans; and of course the glasses — their contents, their makers, anything.

The narrative format is one of the subtlest and smartest things Gibson does. He jumps from past to present, anecdote to flashback to dreamy memory, person to person to person’s point of view, without a single jarring transition. Gibson’s themes continue to cast technology as a misused tool of the upper class, and the lower class as a group of people with an almost instinctual ability to warp it to their needs when given the opportunity. But these themes work for and against him. On one hand, it is at once sensible and awesome to have an underground hacker secret society. On other hand, Berry’s understanding of the netherworld of techno-manipulators is pretty advanced for a character who has been unable to keep a job for the entire book.

In summary, this is a fun book. It’s a fairy tale, where the underdogs win out once again, through luck, a good eye for the right button to push, and, on the bridge, mob rule. It’s a sci-fi novel — there’s exciting technology and significant social change between reality and Gibson’s world, but the focus isn’t really on the toys as it is on the characters and their situations. It’s a damn fun read, is my point, and it’ll make you want to move to San Francisco and join the squatters.

Dance Ontario presents Dance Weekend ‘09
January 23-25 @ Fleck Dance Theatre

By Leandra de Valois-Franklin

Attending a professional dance event can be a risky business. Unlike the latest film or music release, you rarely get the chance to sample before you spend a substantial chunk of change on a ticket. For dance lovers and those curious to learn more about the art form, one of the best opportunities to feast on the province’s best performances is Dance Ontario’s annual Dance Weekend, a dim sum of emerging groups showcased alongside established companies. With three dance-packed days of performances spanning fifteen minutes to half an hour, 29 companies perform an impressive diversity of styles celebrating Ontario’s multicultural flare, including *deep breath* African/Caribbean, ballet, belly dance, Chinese, contemporary, Indian, jazz/hip-hop, Korean, Middle Eastern, modern, Spanish, and some movement that defies categorization — or gravity, for that matter! The works range from mediocre to magnificent, but for $10, you can’t (and shouldn’t) complain!

The weekend started off with the cheap crowd-pleasing routines, a bit of tap here, a bit of poor little rich girls acting all “street” there (those keffiyehs are bombing, so to speak!), and your token musical theatre types with their annoying so-you-think-you-can-dance lyrical numbers. After an adorable Chinese peacock duet by the Little Pear Garden Collective, the show picked up with a teaser for Da Collision’s upcoming (Re)tracing Fred (Feb 24-28 @ York University), a deconstructed disco starring the adorable Louis Laberge-Côté…sans pantalons! I’m definitely excited to see this number again, if not just to see one of the dancers pull a tube of lipstick from his tighties again! The next act was an exciting battle of b-boys (and b-girl) by the Supernaturalz which definitely got the crowd revved. Best part of the evening? When 15 zombies burst through the doors and crawled onto the stage to perform a kickass version of MJ’s “Thriller”! Awesome job, ghouls! Start getting your groups prepared for next year’s Thrill the World event.

The next day it was up to HoneyKats to recapture the crowd’s (well mostly the hetero males’) excitement, by forgetting their tops backstage. Not too impressive. And dammit, I swear if I see one more piece to Marilyn Manson’s “The Beautiful People”, or dancers wearing corsets and skuzzy tutus holding walking canes, I WILL pull a Tonya Harding on all their pseudo-goth asses! Luckily, the programme was salvaged by two wonderful commissions by the not-for-profit art organization Dance Ontario. The first piece was by the beautiful Barbara Pallomina and Lucy Rupert (of Blue Ceiling Dance), in collaboration with Denise Fugiwara, and explored natural raw materials inspired by 1950s Japanese art. The highlight of the day was Pamela Rasbach’s Incorporation, a charmingly cheeky parody of Bay Street corporate chaos by a group of highly skilled contemporary dancers.

The final day of festivities included an introduction by respected dance critic Michael Crabb of the world premiere of InDance’s Firecracker, where traditional classical Indian dance meets contemporary sensibilities. The dramatic portion of the day was presented by Sashar Zarif as well as Dance Theatre David Earle’s The Heat of Night, a compelling exploration of the darkness, suffering, and searching inherent in the writing of Anna Akhmatova. Arte Flamenco was an appropriate finale, the high-intensity flamenco ending the successful weekend with explosive passion.

For those of you dance lovers who are unaware of all the fantastic dance-related events offered in Toronto and surrounding areas, check out Dance Ontario’s website, or, even better, sign up to John Newton’s listserv at Rudolf_Nureyev@lycos.com for daily updates on dance events. Don’t be shy to introduce yourself to John at the next show you attend, he’d love to chat with you about and the latest dance happenings. He’s the guy sitting front and centre. Tell him I said hi!

Isaac’s Book

Glamourpuss #5
By Dave Sim
Aardvark-Vanaheim Inc., 2009

There’s a little disclaimer at the beginning of this book that I’ve only just now seen (odd when you consider my usual tenacity in absorbing the whole contents of what I read in my first sitting): “Glamourpuss is a publication made up of both POP CULTURE PARODY and COMIC ART SCHOLARSHIP, both protected by freedom of expression rights. No proprietary interest in any brand name mentioned or any similarity between any person living or dead is implied or should be inferred. Although it’s always fun guessing, isn’t it?” The block capital letters are the book’s inflection; I’m not yelling at you, just faithfully reproducing.

I’m so glad they put that there, because otherwise I would have had no clue what I was reading. No, I’m not being sarcastic — I needed that one bit of direction that I could take half-seriously and hold onto as an idea of what I’m supposed to be reading here.

See, I’ve read a bunch of Dave Sim’s work before, most of the Cerebus the Aardvark stuff, and while so much of it is a parody of current comic culture memes, it is also quite clearly a story following the life and times of that beloved Aardvark. You’ll have to excuse me if I spent a little too much time and energy trying to find the “Glamourpuss” character in this book… asking myself, is this when her character shows up? It’s like I was waiting for old school Patsy Walker to do a walk on and tell a “serious” joke. But no, “Glamourpuss” is just the name of the fictional fashion magazine that I’m reading, and I’m going to take it as a convention that some of these magazines refer to themselves by their title, in sort of a third-person weirdness. I should read more fashion magazines, I guess.

Which leads me to the question: who is this book for? Are there people who go out and buy fashion magazines, all the while hating what they portray, and who might then appreciate this satire? That doesn’t seem like a particularly large market to build a fan base from. More likely this is a book for fans of Dave Sim, which is cool I guess, but that isn’t much of a temptation for me to get involved in supermarket-counter fashion magazine warfare.

All that being said, there were a lot of things that made me laugh here; it’s solid stuff, just not a comic book story, which is really more my thing. BUT the “comic art scholarship” part of the book is pretty interesting, and I would definitely recommend to artists to check this out. It talks about cross-hatching and stuff; it’s highly informative.

Plus there’s a two-page spread of Cerebus the Aardvark driving a Porsche, and that’s pretty cool.

Miles’ Book

Star Wars Legacy #32
Written by John Ostrander
Art by Omar Fancia
Dark Horse, 2008

I think I’m done with Star Wars.

As a kid, I loved the adventures of Luke and Han, but after three terrible movies I’ve soured on the franchise.

I know this because this is a perfectly serviceable Star Wars story set 150 years after Luke blew up the Death Star and I just don’t care about it. Maybe I’d care if there were some characters I recognized, but I remember a time when I would do almost anything for Star Wars.

Remember Admiral Ackbar? Well this issue focuses on his home world. Things aren’t going so well for the fish heads: they’re on the run after the new evil empire has destroyed their cities and rounded up most of the survivors into concentration camps.
Of course, this is Star Wars so along the way some Jedi show up, a big monster eats some aliens, and there is a lot of talk about betrayal (dudes talk about betrayal in Star Wars like it’s the weather). But I can’t be bothered with any of it. It’s all so very silly. Also, the story is exactly like the one in episodes II and III, just slightly different.

It seems played out and paint-by-numbers to me, but I can see Star Wars believers getting a kick out of this series. Truly, only for the hardcore.

Locke & Key: Head Games (#1) – Intermission
Written by Joe Hill
Art by Gabriel Rodriguez
Colours by Jay Fotos
IDW, 2009

By Sandra Yao

This was one of the many new issues I picked up during my expensive comic book spree last week. It came as a recommendation, and I thought, “Hell, why not? Plus, Locke is spelled all funny. I’m intrigued.”

Despite being called Intermission, this issue does more than give the reader a break between the previous chapter and this current one. It introduces the new chapter through the melancholic, yet romantic story of Professor Ridgeway (instead of the Locke family). Through Ridgeway, Hill reveals the backstory and brings it forward to tell the story of the present. This gives the reader an idea of how the plot will proceed.  In a single issue, he divulges the inner thoughts and feelings of a man, but manages to give a taste of a sordid tale yet to come. The craftiness of Hill’s writing  is what makes it unique. Hints are dropped; plots are unravelled.  An air of mystery and intrigue is laid out, but you’re not left scratching your head.

Adding to the mystery and intrigue, Gabriel Rodriguez does an excellent job with the art. The detail work is incredible. No matter the scene — be it a hallway or room — attention is paid to the fine cracks on the walls and even to the scuffs and the scratches. No panel is left static: there is always some fleeting memory that is being captured or rising tension that is being portrayed. The lines are bold, the colours are vivid, and the expressions are dead-on.

Having never read Joe Hill’s previous chapter to this series (Locke & Key: Welcome to Lovecraft), I was afraid I’d be left in the dark, but this was not the case. In fact, I’ve already pre-ordered the hardcover of Welcome to Lovecraft. What can I say? I’m an addict. The story begins through the eyes of an old man, but there is still more that needs to be told. It’s a great buy and a great read. If this issue is any sort of taste of the “head games” Hill has is store, I’m ready to get mind-fucked.

Immersion francais!

Entre les Murs (The Class)
Directed by Laurent Cantet
Sony Pictures Classic, 2008

By Sean Kelly

The Class became the first French film in over two decades to pick up the Palme D’Or at the Cannes Film Festival and has now been nominated in the Academy Awards for Best Foreign Language Film. The film stars François Bégaudeau, who co-wrote the screenplay based on his semi-autobiographical novel about teaching literature at a Paris middle school.

You could almost call The Class a fictional documentary. While the story itself is fictional, the film feels as if a documentary crew entered this Paris school and filmed the day-to-day actions of the students and teachers. This is supported by the film’s cinematography, which often looks like it was filmed by a spectator within the room, the camera holding close on its subjects.

The majority of the narrative is made up of the classroom discussions involving Bégaudeau’s character, Mr. Marin, and his class. The portrayal of the classroom is fascinatingly realistic. The bulk of the students use their real names, and all are non-actors from a junior high school in Paris’ rough suburbs. The filmmakers began with a script, but further developed and refined the characters through extensive workshops with the cast. Over the course of the film, you get to know each character’s distinct personality through their responses to Mr. Marin’s teachings.

The class connects.

Classroom scenes are interspersed with scenes showing the attitudes of the rest of the staff at the school. One such scene that was quite memorable involved a fellow teacher going on a rant about how he was fed up with the apathy of his students. Some other memorable moments outside of Marin’s lessons include parent/teacher interviews and discussions among the teachers about setting up a fund to help prevent the mother of a Chinese student from being deported.

It is Mr. Marin’s continuous struggle to break through the apathy of his students. Even a simple task such as creating a name tag is challenged by certain students (the reason being that they were in his class last year). There is one notable moment where a student refuses to read when asked to do so in class. She is kept after class and asked by Mr. Marin to apologize for her behaviour. She reluctantly does so, and it looks like Marin has gotten through to her — until she sharply retracts it just as she steps out the door.

Mr. Marin’s relationship with the students is the basis for the main dramatic arc of the film, which comes to center around Marin dealing with a troubled student in his class named Souleymane. Souleymane starts off apathetic about his assignments, and, throughout the course of the film, goes on a downward spiral to the point where he is in danger of being expelled. This story arc is one of the few instances in the film that uses a truly fictional character (Souleymane’s mother is the only parent in the film who is not their child’s actual parent); however it melds smoothly with the rest of the film’s action.

Throughout this arc, Mr. Marin is more willing than the rest of the staff to give Souleymane extra chances. When Souleymane gets further into trouble, Mr. Marin comes to his defense by trying to explain that his troubled behaviour was either a first offense or an accident. As his delinquency escalates, discussion is put forth about putting Souleymane in front of the school’s disciplinary committee. Mr. Marin fights against it, knowing full well that such a hearing would likely result in expulsion. Here, Marin proves himself a patient man with a deeply felt concern for the well-being of his students.

In the end, The Class is a remarkably honest look inside of a Paris middle school. I can’t recall another fictional film that provides this level of realism. The film offers something rare: a step away from the usual contrivances and the sense that you are actually present in a real world classroom.

Animal Collective
Merriweather Post Pavilion
Domino, 2009

By John Hastings

I’ve had a really hard time getting into the music of Animal Collective over the years. With the release of their 8^th studio album, Merriweather Post Pavilion, I was determined to find out the reason for so much praise. I put on my tracksuit, fluffed up the pillows on the couch, and hunkered down to give this album a solid combing-over (with my ears). And guess what? I think I finally get it. I think I like it.

Animal Collective is just that, a collective, each musician with their own sound and story, together in a strange but engaging combination. While the group has consisted of a number of different artists over the years, the main collaborators are Panda Bear and Avey Tare, as well as Geologist and Deakin, all of whom have their own solo projects. If you’re completely unfamiliar with anything Animal Collective, let’s just be simple and call it folky electronica.

Merriweather Post Pavilion opens with “In The Flowers” and reminds me of watching The Wizard of Oz cued up with Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. I can just envision a tripped-out Dorothy wandering through a field of poppies, complete with the sounds of birds and water and everything else Animal Collective drips into their songs. One great thing about this release: it sounds different on each replay, and I find new, and mesmerizing, sonic alleyways every time. There are so many layers that each track can veritably take the helm depending on where, when, why, and how you’re listening. The whole disc is solid, though the first half is most memorable. There’s a great tribal sound to “Lion in a Coma,” and they save some of the best for last with “Brothersport,” the album’s longest — but possibly most accessible — tune.

The second track, “My Girls,” has to be the standout on this disc. It’s spacy but captivating and builds into a great groove, where the vocals really find themselves and Animal Collective’s talents shine the brightest. If a tune was going to break the group into the mainstream, it would be this one. Following closely behind would be “Summertime Clothes,” where we hear that “a voice from the clock says you’re gonna get tired” — but we don’t, and as the chorus breaks out with a heavy clap-along rhythm, we fully understand why they belt “I wanna walk around with you.”

Rumour has it that Animal Collective is being seriously considered as the opener for U2’s next world tour, though this remains to be seen. Still, Animal Collective will play a show at the Sound Academy on May 15^th as part of their own massive world tour. Reportedly, their live shows make the records seem dim in comparison. Though they’ve taken me years to appreciate, I don’t plan on missing the Collective this time. It’s being stated by everyone, but remember this disc in December when we think back on albums of the year for ‘09. Enjoy.

Daryl Cloran and Holly Lewis

By Daina Valiulis

Theatrefront, an exciting and unique Canadian theatre company whose aim it is to collaborate cross culturally to create projects that challenge and inspire, are bringing their new work, Ubuntu: (The Capetown Project) to the Tarragon Theatre on January 28. The creators of Return: The Sarajevo Project traveled to Capetown, South Africa in April of 2005 to work with artists from the Baxter Theatre Centre, forming what eventually became Ubuntu. Inspired the strong political, social voice of South African theatre and its unique, physical performance style, Daryl Cloran directs a collective creation four years in the making-with a cast built from both South African and Canadian performers including Holly Lewis, Patricia Fagan, Christopher Morris, Adam Pettle and David Jensen.

I sat down with Daryl Cloran and Holly Lewis (and their charming seven-month-old son, Liam) to chat about how a collective work happens, and the elements that make Ubuntu unique.

MONDO: What does the term “Ubuntu” mean? How did it come to be the name of the piece?

DARYL CLORAN: It’s a South African phrase that loosely means “a person is a person through other persons” or, “I am because we are.” It’s about community and connection with your ancestors and your responsibility as a member of the community. It came up as a phrase at some point during one rehearsal, and, as the play developed, it became a lot about how we deal with our parents and how we deal with our loved ones who have died — more and more appropriate for the show. Throughout the workshops, we just called it The Capetown Project. We decided we’d give it a title when it opened, to sort of mark its birth. Ubuntu just seemed like the right term.

MONDO: What was your starting point? What inspired you?

DC: At the beginning we did a lot of sharing, so I had set up opportunities for actors to bring in or generate material, whether it was improv, writing exercises, storytelling, or physical exercises — things that just started to inspire.

Once it got going, we started to zero-in on the story that interested us. It became more about working through that scene. But certainly the actors had to come ready for anything and had to be open and willing to try. There’s so much stuff that we created that won’t make it to the final show — we could make three or four plays with all the material we collected!

The collective creation process asks a lot of actors. It’s not every actor’s cup of tea: you’re not only acting, you’re actually writing and creating at the same time; it uses different muscles. Some actors love that, and some just want to play a really good part. I looked for people who seemed to respond to the challenge. And we also looked for artists that would bring something unique. The two guys we are working with now are very physical: they bring a very visceral vibe with them, whereas the Canadian actors have a more intellectual, script-based approach to things. It’s interesting to see how together they can create something.

When working in a collective, it can be difficult to find consensus as a group but it also has great power when it works. Especially the more people you have: you get more ideas on the table, but it can be harder to navigate. And then you’ve really got to just give a directive cue…

HOLLY LEWIS: He’s really good at that. He’s really good at keeping us focused and selecting the stuff that’s the strongest and convincing us that he’s right! It’s our job as actors to just throw everything into the middle and do it with abandon and not be embarrassed and not be afraid to embarrass ourselves. I wanted use this as a chance to explore questions I had about myself, about theatre and our exchange. The initial work I was doing was one of the storylines that wasn’t kept in the story, but my character stayed and she sort of morphed. At first I was interested in exploring the idea of creation through writing but then during the second workshop, I was pregnant and that seemed so much more personal — a much better thing to explore because it was less academic. My character is no longer pregnant in the story, but the importance of the mother-child relationship has stayed. I like to give Daryl a lot of impossible ideas to stage, stuff like “Wouldn’t it be great if we did one scene that was like an overhead shot, so the perspective is completely switched?” and Daryl’s like “Okay, well how are we going to do that?” So we explore solving these impossibilities and for me that was the most fun stuff to bring to the table.

MONDO: Was there anything you incorporated in the show that came as a result of a mistake?  What about something you tried that you didn’t think was a very good idea at first?

HL: Yeah! Most of it! And it’s also interesting when you’re doing intercultural stuff that at first sometimes you feel like certain things would not work aesthetically on stage. For example, there’s a cow slaughtering scene in the show. Daryl and the South African actors were trying to describe what would happen at this funeral when they would slaughter a cow and pour its blood and Daryl was like “Instead of talking about this, let’s do it!” One of the South African actors got down on all fours and did the most believable cow I have ever seen — I was blown away! It was one of the pieces that we created very early on that stayed because it’s so interesting. Now David Jenson, one of the Canadian actors, is playing it. It’s great because David is a Shaw Festival actor, so his approach is very much about finding the argument — to see him playing the cow is exactly the kind of work that we’re trying to get to. I wouldn’t call it a mistake, but when they first mentioned it, I thought “Well. That’ll never make it to the stage.” And now it’s a really powerful, exciting scene.

MONDO: Did a script arise out of all this work ultimately?

DC: It’s still arising! Part of our goal ultimately was to have a script that somebody someday could pick up and try to stage. We did that with The Sarajevo Project and ultimately got it published, which is exciting for me even if it’s just my mom who buys a copy. I think it’s a nice record of what we’ve done.

HL: A theatre company like ours that doesn’t have a space and relies on the generosity and interest of companies like the Tarragon and their interest in co-producing. But there’s something nice about building a library instead of building a theatre. It leaves behind kind of a legacy or a footprint.

Revolutionary Road
Directed by Sam Mendes
Paramount Vantage

By Doug Nayler

It's even a period piece.

In an ideal world, films would be able to truly stand on their own merit. No comparison would even cross a viewer’s mind to anything that the actors, writers, or director had done previously. Nobody would be concerned about where a certain film stands in its genre’s canon. In this utopia, one would truly be able to approach everything with a fresh willingness to take it for exactly what it is. But, as we all know, this is absolutely not the case. The main reason any of us bother to check out a given film at all is because of the actors’ or director’s previous work, or hopes that it might be as good as a similar film that we’ve enjoyed. And so, like it or not, Revolutionary Road is inherently going to be compared to two highly successful, Oscar-reaping films of the 90’s: Titanic and American Beauty. The former because of the leads, and the latter because of its director, suburban setting, and subject matter. And I have a feeling that fans of the one are going to be in for quite a large shock, while fans of the other will be quite satisfied. I don’t know what someone who’s a fan of both films will feel, as I’ve yet to see evidence that such people exist in observable numbers.

Revolutionary Road, based on the popular novel by Richard Yates set in the 1950’s, takes an uncompromising look at the very troubled marriage of April and Frank Wheeler (Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio). Though the two remember a time where they were happy at what the world would have to offer them, and content in their love, it seems a very long time ago. As April now cares for their lovely home and children and Frank commutes into Manhattan to work at the same insurance firm that his father had, both feel deeply unhappy. The two blame each other and vent their frustrations by trying to tear each other apart. They seem on a surefire course to implosion until one night, April suddenly comes up with an unconventional idea for where to lead their life next. The move injects a newfound excitement in their lives, though none of their friends or neighbours can possibly understand why. But, even as the Wheelers enjoy their newfound liberation, April can’t help but worry that it may all come crashing down before they can even see it realized.

If the setting and premise sounds somewhat familiar, that’s because it is. Films like Far From Heaven, the TV series Mad Men, and the aforementioned American Beauty have explored the hollowness of the American dream in white suburbia before. In that sense, there isn’t anything especially new in the path Revolutionary Road treads. If one were to be especially cynical, they could even accuse Mendes of a return to his safety net after the lack of interest in his underrated Gulf War pic Jarhead. I am not so cynical. For, what Revolutionary Road lacks in originality of premise it easily makes up for in sheer intensity of performance.

A new direction.

One must suspect that Winslet and Di Caprio took a certain amount of perverse amusement in deciding to reunite for this film. While neither would deny that Titanic was the trampoline from which they shot into super-stardom (DiCaprio especially), it has most certainly become an albatross around the neck. Both are very serious, committed actors who have not wasted their subsequent ‘bankability’ often, generally pursuing roles that push them into new and uncharted waters. But by the same token, both must surely have had to endure much finger-wagging from disappointed studio executives expecting Titanic box office grosses that films like Little Children or The Beach just simply are not going to attract. Revolutionary Road is the anti-Titanic, eschewing all mythic, sentimental notions of the all-conquering power of love for just the sheer, naked reality of two people who are so unhappy but so emotionally intertwined that they can’t seem to find any way to make sense of it all.

Unhappily intertwined.

And this is where the film truly triumphs. Di Caprio and Winslet are obviously extremely comfortable working together. Working with Mendes (Winslet’s husband) seems to have given them an environment so comfortable that they were able to push their performances into very intensely honest moments of an almost Cassevetes-like quality. There were moments in the film that are of the sort one so seldom sees on a film screen, or even in daily life itself. They are the type of moments that only exist between people with a relationship so intimate that their most childish thoughts and insecurities surface without any thought of repressing them. The effect is as if the viewer is actually watching a marriage crumbling before their very eyes, in its most intimate detail.

And it’s for that exact reason this film will be rejected by those most passionate Titanic fans who go out to see it. For instead of finding hope for a love they’ve only seen in movies, they’ll get life in all it’s ugly confusion. And there’s a very good chance that will be what they’re going to the movies to escape.

Miles’ Book

Mysterius the Unfathomable #1 (of 6)
Written by Jeff Parker
Art by Tom Fowler
Wildstorm, 2009

In all honesty, my book of the week was supposed to be Faces of Evil Deathstroke #1 but I’m tired of reviewing books that look that shitty. Also, there was an in-store signing for this book and I’d rather give my money to an independent creator than the company that killed Batman last week.

This is a solid first issue. The tone is set almost immediately with the introduction of Mysterius himself. Is there any better way to introduce a scoundrel than a full-page splash as he puts his hand down a woman’s blouse in a creepy fashion? Nope, it’s pretty much perfect. Mysterius is a bastard, but a hilarious one at that and steals every scene he’s in.

He’s basically a huge bastard with hints of compassion. Also, some possible racism, which I think might add to the humour and to my interest in the character. (Not that racism is funny. I just think it’s an interesting choice that will probably pay off real well. And even then, I might be totally off the mark.)

I wasn’t surprised when I learned that Tom Fowler had done work for Mad magazine. His art would be a perfect fit for the magazine, and is clearly inspired by it. This is a very good thing. It works well with the writing and immediately sets a tone. His animated style works really well for light comedy as well as a horrific landscape of human bones. He’s a talent, that’s for sure.

My only quibbles about the book are small, but I think worth mentioning. As a first issue, there is little that makes me want to come back next month. The cliffhanger is a little soft, but I do want to see more of Mysterius’ antics. I also think that Parker gives us a little bit too much his first issue. He really tries to cram in a lot of information, but I think had he given the plot a bit more time to grow the exposition would have more impact. It’s like he has a lot of big ideas and he wants you to see them all before the six issues are up, fearing that there won’t be continuation afterwards.

And that’s a shame because there’s a long-form serial here that deserves more than six issues.

Isaac’s Book

Battlefields: The Night Witches #3
Written by Garth Ennis
Art by Russ Braun
Dynamite Entertainment, 2009

Though I was concerned about jumping into this story at the third issue, a story without my standard capes and cowls to help me tell the difference between characters, I needn’t have worried. The confusion is reduced by telling a simple story with few characters and beautiful art.

The story mostly follows Captain Nadia Anastasia Popova, a member of the Night Witches — women pilots of World War II — as she deals with the loss of her lover. I say mostly follows, because there’s one other perspective that I certainly didn’t expect: a lone German soldier, who is sick of fighting an endless war and of seeing what that war does to people.

I wish that soldier had his name written somewhere in the book, I’ve scanned through and can’t find it, because I’m most impressed with his portrayal. His reluctance and disgust is evident in every panel he appears in.

Along those same lines, the “acting” of the book, when Captain Popova learns that her lover dies you can almost see a switch flip off inside of her, she avoids the gaze of those around her and you can feel her grasping at the reality of her situation… though hers is a reality of denial that she’s grasping onto.

Is it then her fault that she gets shot down while flying a night mission? Was she too distracted to be flying at that moment? It’s possible, or it was inevitable. But the uncertainty will surely haunt her.

The Captains and that nameless soldier’s stories come together after the crash landing. Wanting to spare her life the German dives at the Captain, shielding her from the search his comrades undertake for her. When Captain Popova gets up she takes her revenge for the death of her lover, and now her gunner, on the German soldier who saved her, before taking his gun and annihilating the rest of the German’s squad.

There’s a caption at the end, the Captain remembering this event, and the surprise at what she herself was once capable of takes us out of the comic book, and I remember that this may be fiction, but it’s far from impossible. It’s amazing what we’re capable of in order to survive.

Tomorrow, January 20^th, 2009 President-Elect Barack Hussein Obama will become President Obama.  And it is today, as I stare out of my office window at the bleak snow-covered rooftop of Old City Hall, that I admit with disappointment that I am not an American.  Perhaps it is due to the fact that it is Monday or because blood is currently rushing through my vagina, but right now I am apathetic to the dawn of the new presidency.  His rhetoric that before would make every cell of my hope, morals and ambition pulsate now passes me without a shiver.  Yesterday, and many times before, he said, “Despite the enormity of the task that lies ahead … the United States of America will endure and prevail.”  Yes, Obama, with your help I am sure it will.

Before I prattle on let me introduce myself.  My name is Leanne Schaeken (It’s Dutch); my citizenship is Canadian; my head of state representative is the Governor General — what is her name — Michaelle Jean and my Prime Minister is Stephen Harper, a middle-aged, evangelical Christian with a blonde wife and two blonde kids.   Harper, a man who is chained to his Albertan obligations and all that sandy oil that comes with it, and who is painfully slow when pushed the way of liberal progression.   He, however, is not the satanic dunce that most liberal tut-tutting, pot-smoking, organic beef-frying people like to believe.  And, yes, I am aware that most of you are liberal tut-tutting, pot-smoking, organic beef-frying people. Read the rest of this entry »