Story of Whoa

Sunday afternoon, I attended the last show of The National Ballet's new Romeo and Juliet. Previous performances of this ballet used Cranko's choreography which dates to the 60s. Recently, Karen Kain commissioned hot-shot Russian choreographer Alexei Ratmansky to produce a new version of this ballet, including sets and costumes.

The story takes place in an almost abstract modernist Verona. The staging had gigantic buildings, beds, and hallways that dwarf the dancers. Everything seems skewed, as if you are inside a painting that used perspective drawing, which would of course look 3 dimensional as a flat canvas but one that would seem strange if it actually had a 3rd dimension. In contrast, the dancers with the exception of the two main leads wore sumptuous and evocative costumes. It was a wonder that they could dance in some of the more voluminous garbs.

And they had to dance. One of the changes from Cranko's version is that the corps and all the secondary casts were called upon to dance a lot more. The choreography was a fusion of classical ballet with touches of contemporary steps, most notably the Carnival Men who joked around to the amusement of the town folk and the rhythmic clapping and stomping done by the latter.

The characters had distinctive dance steps. A standout was Benvolio, as a rakish devil-may-care. His extended death scene was played for laughs to highlight this attitude, until it became obvious his injury was grave. The sword fights were wild and exciting, combining actual sword-play with balletic leaps and twirls. The famous Montague procession became ominous instead of typically grandiose as the men brandished their blades while the women flowed around the outside.

The main beneficiary of the new choreography was undoubtedly Juliet. She had several beautiful pas-de-deux and pas-de-trois with her nurse, her parents, Tybalt, Paris, and Romeo: full of tension and passion. Romeo did not fare as well. His antics with Mercutio and Benvolio were pedestrian. His interactions with Juliet could have used a little more fire.

The casting for this run was a topic of conversation as the opening night slot (and print advertisement) went to first soloist Elena Lobsanova instead of one of the principal dancers. For this final performance, the casting was even more unusual. Second soloist Chelsy Meiss danced as Juliet and Romeo was corps de ballet dancer Brendan Saye. Supposedly, Ratmansky hand-picked them for the roles. If true, that would be real life imitating art (or Hollywood cliche): the talented ingenue plucked from the obscurity of the chorus line to shine in the limelight.

Frankly Silly

Lily

I liked the musical Ride The Cyclone so I decided to check out the Saturday night cabaret after-party at Theatre Passe Muraille involving some cast members from the show. There was some twitter buzz that there may be several acts, but at the show there was just two.

First up was Slut Revolver, a female duo (with cast member Kelly Hudson) who sang humorous and often raunchy songs. They remind a little bit of the Youtube-famous pairing of Garfunkel and Oates, though Slut Revolver is smuttier. The songs were amusing, but sometimes crossed the line between crude (but funny) into unnecessarily offensive.

Hank

The main act was Hank and Lily. Hank was the bass-playing rat Virgil in the musical. Now he was some sort of disco king with his disco queen. Kelly Hudson and Sarah Pelzer acted as back-up singers with appearances by Rielle Braid as a sexy lady-cop, Elliott Goran as a dancing robot, and Matthew Coulson as David Hasselhoff. All of the songs were jokey but none really transcended into true humour. The dance beats were fun but the under-powered sound system at Passe Muraille was too anemic to get the blood pumping. Most of the crowd were friends of the cast so it had very much an in-crowd feel.

Porco Rosso

Conch fritter

Deluxe is a Cuban-French restaurant that was one of the first trendy restaurants to open on the hot Ossington strip. Foregoing the typical Latin-American restaurant decor, the bourgeois dark chocolate look with plush seats would infuriate Fidel and his revolutionaries.

I stopped by for lunch on a pleasant November morning. The conch fritters ($8) were 5 pieces of deep-fried puree conch. There was only a hint of seafood in each bite, but the fried batter went well with the rich, aioli-like dipping sauce. The fried green plantain ($3) arrived out lumpy and starchy. I prefer the crisp, chip-like variation at La Bella Manuaga. No complaints about the fried ripe plantain ($3): slightly sweet, hot and tasty.

Pressed Cubano & fried plantain

My main dish was the pressed Cubano ($10), a variation on the ham and cheese. This version was loaded with ham, roasted pork, and dijon mustard. The bread was crispy and deliciously greasy. But this sandwich suffers the same deficiency as the tosta mista  (Portuguese ham and cheese) by Sky Blue Sky sandwich shop: a monotony of flavour. With so much meat and no other toppings, after a couple of bites, the lack of additional flavour or texture equals a diminishing enjoyment. This is best shared with others, leaving you room to sample other dishes. Lunch ended with coffee and donuts ($6). This sugary over-sized cousin to the timbit made a great dessert.

Corner Bore

On the south side of the Rusholme and College jog, there used to be a mirrored scene. Two tiny convenience stores face each other across the narrow street, each flanked by a neighbouring building painted entirely black. That symmetry broke when one of them closed after many years, to be replaced by an arts and craft store, which lasted for only a few months.

At first, it would seem that another convenience store has returned, with a name of Dépanneur (convenience store in Quebec French), promising ice cream, coffee, and other items. Although there are such goods for sale, it is actually a small brunch place.

Shelves with home-made baked goods, small tables where you will bump elbows with fellow diners, knick knacks in nooks, a large antique map of Quebec, a painting of the Virgin Mary, two ovens, pans hung from racks, and and a bus-your-own-food ethos, it has the warm ambience of a friend's inviting and well-stocked kitchen. The owner chats warmly with regulars. I would bet from his mannerism and cadence that he is a transplanted Montreal anglo.

Too bad the rest of the experience is not as enjoyable. Water doesn't appear until you ask. Orders get mixed up, 3 breakfast plates preceded mine though they ordered after myself. At least I wasn't the poor schmuck before me who got his bacon and eggs 15 minutes after his girlfriend's. The quality is utilitarian; anyone with kitchen experience can make it. For $12 (before tip), I got an autumn omelette (2 organic eggs, gorgonzola, butternut squash, onion, sage and thyme) with some organic mixed greens. Bacon and toast would have cost an extra $3 each! A full breakfast at a greasy diner would have cost less than half, even a trendier brunch spot would give you a little more for your buck. Apparently, convenience store prices don't just apply to milk, pop, and chips.

As a side note, the owner also runs the Rusholme Park Supper Club. For $40, local cooks will host a dinner party with 3-4 dishes. Looking over upcoming menus, these also seem to be pricier than expected.

Two Princes

Chicken yakitori

Prince Japanese Steakhouse is a Japanese sushi/teppanyaki restaurant near Eglinton and Spectrum Way. The Teppanyaki side consists of large U-shaped tables flanking two surface grills manned by chefs busy cooking fish, steak, scallop and other mains. The highlight of the show is a flaming onion volcano. They are less flashy than other Japanese steakhouses. There's not much to be said for it: a reasonably cheap lunch, fairly large portions, but average food. Some observations:

• If you order a vegetarian teppanyaki combo, they will finish it before starting the other dishes. This is probably due to fact that the same cooking implements are used for all orders, which would contaminate the vegetarian dishes.
• A prodigious amount of oil and butter/margarine are added to everything: meats, seafood, vegetables and bean sprouts.
• They cook the fried rice right on the large grill. I wonder how it compares to the traditional Chinese method of using a very hot wok.
• The fans do suck up most of the smoke, but enough will cling to your clothes to give you that fragrant stale cooking oil smell. I wouldn't recommend it as a winter outing.

Miso soup and salad

Sirloin and Scallop

After Life

When Ride The Cyclone, a musical from Victoria's Atomic Vaudeville, played at Summerworks 2010, I was blown away by the talent of the cast, the catchy music, the humour but also the underlying sadness. With their return for a 3.5 weeks run at Theatre Passe Muraille, I was eager to revisit this macabre production.

I was not disappointed. The tale of 6 dead teenagers, high-school choristers from small town Uranium, Saskatchewan, tragically killed in a roller coaster accident retains all its charm. Brought back for 1 last performance by the Amazing Karnak, a mechanical fortune-teller, they sing out their accomplishments and regrets. Ocean O'Donnell Rosenberg (Rielle Braid): ambitious over-achiever who never got to reach for the brass ring; Misha Bachinsky (Matthew Coulson): transplanted Ukrainian who hides his cultural isolation in gangster rap and internet romance; Constance Blackwood (Kelly Hudson): the fat mousy girl who is always overlooked; Ricky Potts (Elliott Goran): socially awkward nerd with a boundless imagination; Noel Gruber (Kholby Wardell): only gay teenager who longs for a life of passion and drama; and Jane Doe (Sarah Pelzer): an unknown headless girl who poses the most existential question of all: What is a life that is unremembered?

All performers have strong voices that sell the toe-tapping music: whether it's a soul number, a torch song, or over-the-top glam rock. But they are also deft actors, adding pathos to their roles as confused teenagers: the jokes can't hide their bewilderment and sadness with lives cut too short. The set is sturdier (with a bit more razzle dazzle) than last year, where it had to be quickly struck for the next Summerworks play. But with the cheesy props and snarky choreography, every song still has that "high-school production" vibe. This is a strength, not a fault; we don't lose sight of the fact that they are teenagers who like to "dress up" and put on a show because it's fun. Special mention should also go to James Insell as Karnak and Hank Pine as Virgil, the bass-playing rat.

I was lucky to get preview tickets before the reviews came in. With all the major dailies and various online sites giving Ride The Cyclone top marks, tickets became much harder to come afterwards.

No Reservation

The Rez Sisters is a play written by Aboriginal playwright Tomson Highway. 25 years ago, it gave voice to the concerns of a marginalized minority that was not represented in the arts. This year, to celebrate its 25th anniversary, Factory Theatre remounted it. For this staging, there was additional interests because of the decision to cast some non-Aboriginal actors. I attended a preview screening Saturday night.

The play opened up with a house partially sticking out of the ground. A black winding path loops around the abode, dividing the stage in half. It was clear that we are looking down at the scene when a ladder appeared and Pelajia Patchnose (Jani Lauzon) climbed up on her roof. She effected some repairs and lamented her dead-end situation on the reservation, located in Northern Ontario on Manitoulin Island, with Philomena Moosetail (Kyra Harper). Eventually the rest of the women appeared: mentally disabled Zhaboonigan Peterson (Cara Gee), excitable Annie Cook (Djennie Laguerre), stoic Marie-Adele Starblanket (Pamela Sinha), butch Emily Dictionary (Michaela Washburn), and prissy Veronique St. Pierre (Jean Yoon). They all have hard-luck stories, bickered, fought, and gossiped. Circling the scene is Nanabush (Billy Merasty), the Trickster.

The impetus for the play was the news that The Biggest Bingo In the World will take place in Toronto. Each woman envisioned a different and better life for herself with the winnings. It was then a matter of raising enough money in various activities for the trip down to Southern Ontario.

I found the play unconvincing because of the open casting. I had no problem with using non-Aboriginal actors, in this case Asian, Black, and Caucasian, but rather that most did not fully inhabit their character. As an aside, Tomson Highway has stated he did not want to keep his plays limited to only native actors. But for me, the pressing issues are whitewashing: casting of Caucasian actors in originally ethnic roles (e.g., Desperate Measures, 21, The Last Avatar) or the more insidious practice of defaulting roles to Caucasian actors with minorities being only cast in roles that call explicitly for an "ethnic" character. In other words, it makes no sense to fight over a slice when somebody else keeps the whole cake.

Natives on a reservation in the 80s has such specificity in mannerism, speech, and accent that some attempt must be made to invoke that milieu. Unfortunately, most of the women used the standard, urban voice. One had a hard time keeping out her French accent. Some contemporary mannerisms unconsciously crept in such as the distracting head-wagging "you go girl" of current times. So they seemed more like the Desperate Housewives of Scarborough. A few of the women used a rural Ontario accent, which is to be applauded, but since not everyone did so, it made the mix on stage that much more surreal.

Ultimately, since I could not convincingly immerse myself because of these technical hiccups, the women never became real to me. So I did not care about their situation which seemed soap opera-ish, maudlin, and even exploitative. Without that truthful foundation, pathos became pastiche.

Be True To Old School

There are lots of new Japanese eateries in Toronto that offer more than sushi. Some offer specialty dishes such as the cheap diner Manpuku and the Ramen shop Kenzo Ramen. The remaining restaurants do Izakaya, traditionally food to accompany booze, including lively Guu and the more laid-back but upscale Fin Izakaya.

Salted tofu	Sashimi dinner

Rikishi is an 25+ year-old restaurant that can compete with those new kids on the block, but with its scruffy carpet and faded menu it isn't much of a destination place. But I have also heard that Ematei, tucked discreetly on tiny St. Patrick between Queen St. and Dundas St., is a hidden gem. So I head down there Thursday night to check it out.

Soft-shell crab maki

Pan-fried beef & burdock

My visit to Ematei confirms it. The cozy hideaway with dark wooden tables and discreet waitstaff serve excellent izakaya and sushi dishes at quite reasonable prices. After the tasty complimentary tofu appetizer, the sashimi ($27) plate contains a great selection of flavourful seafood along with miso soup and a salad. The pan-fried beef with burdock root ($7) is chewy but not overcooked. It is a bit salty and goes best with some rice. The soft-shell crab maki ($13) may seem expensive, until it arrives on the table. Then the large chunks of delicious crab says: "This is a great deal." The chicken yakatori skewers ($1.50/each) basted with BBQ sauce are nicely grilled and the grilled smelt ($5 for 3!) can be fully eaten head, body, and tail. The large scoops of green tea ice cream finish off a great meal.

Chicken yakitori

Grilled smelt

This is well-made, no-fuss, old-school Japanese dining. It offers tastier fares than some of the newer upstarts and possibly cheaper too. Now I'm eyeing that cheap $48 omakase option with anticipation.