Sorrow and Joy

On Saturday, I was off to the Drake Underground for some live music. The two bands tonight played contrasting styles. Kandle, daughter of Neil Osbourne (54-40), was all darkness and attitude. Despite her sparkly gold dress, her growly voice on songs such as Control Me and Not Up To Me brought a cynical edge to observations about make-ups and break-ups. Her backing band, The Krooks, supplied the swampy bass and decaying guitar.

Fast Romantics, on the other hand, came across like Arcade Fire but less mopey. Every song (Take Me Back, Funeral Song) was up-tempo thumping drums, multi-part chorus, and solid chords. It was all an invitation for sing-alongs and dancing. Amazingly, there were some at the front that broke from Toronto's nodding heads to dance and even wave their arms. Tonight, the band introduced new members Kirty Scholte and Kevin Black (ex-Hands & Teeth). I liked their music but after a while, the relentless cheeriness got a bit tiresome. It was like spending time with an extroverted friend who needs to dial it back now and then.

Secret Ingredient

On Friday, there was another going-away lunch for a co-worker. This time, it took place at a teppanyaki spot called Iron Chef Steakhouse. The interior was all dark wood and chairs. We were seated around a large flat grill to be entertained before being fed.

The chef went through his routine of spinning his spatulas and forks. But I noticed that he did all his razzle-dazzle before cooking, whereas the chef at Prince had a few extras throughout such as cracking an egg by throwing it against the edge of his spatula. In any case, I opted for the sirloin/salmon/chicken combo ($19.95) with fried rice ($2.75). It was an average lunch and a bit on the pricey side as it comes to $30 with tax and tip. In fact, since all three proteins used similar sauces, they all tasted more or less the same with the chicken coming in last. Also, the fried rice was a stomach-bloating mistake. The grill wasn't hot enough to impart the tasty flavour of good restaurant fried rice.

Footloose

During Bry Webb's performance at Massey Hall, he was extolling Gordon Lightfoot's 4-night run where he met the legendary troubadour. So when it was announced that Lightfoot will play this November, I got my ticket. Thursday night, I went down to Massey for the 2nd of his 4 performances.

With such a large oeuvre, Lightfoot did two sets instead of having an opener. The 76-year-old singer/guitarist can teach younger bands about punctuality and scheduling. His 1st set started at exactly 8, though people were still coming in, followed by a 20-minute break ("Be prompt cause we'll start without you", he quipped to laughter), and a 2nd set that ended 2 minutes to 10 pm. His songs were roughly in 2 categories. The first were the story-telling ones, with verse after verse of carefully observed details. The prime example was The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald to close out the first set. The pop songs (Rainy Day People, Sundown, Carefree Highway, If You Could Read My Mind) eschewed the typical melody verse and refrain and often added variation throughout the song. Lightfoot didn't do much banter but sang song after song. He did have a wry humour and a penchant for puns ("Come meet me by the rock pile where I'm bolder").

His voice isn't what it used to be: the light sweetness has been replaced with a strangled delivery in the upper register. So it was sometimes an effort to make out the lyrics. His music was evocative and in my opinion, didn't need the backing band. In fact, with the exception of a few songs, they detracted from the show with mundane, karaoke-esque arrangements. Lightfoot, his well-used guitar, and maybe a guitar lead would have been enough.

Ra-mensch

When I saw ramen on the menu of Jewish bistro Essen, I knew I had to come back to try it. After a week of sudden snow storm and gusty winds, I decided that this chilly Tuesday night was perfect to test this concoction. A table of old Jewish men were debating their choices, but I didn't need to ponder it over: Jewish ramen ($10) and a side order of duck fat fries ($6).

The soup was a cross-over. On the Jewish side, you had carrot cubes, matzo balls, and kreplach. On the Asian side, there was soft-boiled egg and egg noodles. But the combination was less than its parts because there wasn't much "ramen vibe". Chef should consider Eastern veggies like bean sprouts and wood ear mushrooms; the flat pasta didn't have the toothsomeness of ramen noodles; and the eggs lacked that perfect balance between firm egg-white and cooked but still runny egg-yolk. It was my first matzo ball and to be honest, I'm not a fan. But the broth was flavourful and the kreplach was excellent. Instead of the usual boiled dumpling stuffed with ground meat, it was fried and crispy with tasty beef brisket. The ramen was an interesting idea but not well-executed.

The fries were better, more in line with my previous experience here. They were thinly sliced, scalloped-style, and came out toasty and golden. Topped with green onions and dill, this was a delicious side-dish.

Inner Ninji

Saturday night, I went to my first National Ballet of this season: a remount of last year's Nijinski. This ballet by John Neumeier explores the life Vaslav Nijinski. This famous Russian ballet dancer ("Dieu de la Danse") from the turn of the last century had his career cut short by schizophrenia.

At the opening of the ballet, we found ourselves in the ballroom of a hotel in St. Moritz. The elegantly-clad upper crust slowly filled the room, first to schmooze and then to witness Nijinski's (Guillaume Cote) last public performance. They were shocked by his madcap and clownish movements. As a few started to leave, he danced his more celebrated roles. As the applause thundered, the dancer began to hallucinate about his past.

So over the first act, we experienced details about his life: his talented family, all dancers from his mother Eleonora (Svetlana Lunkina), his sister Bronislava (Jenna Savella), and his brother Stanislav (Dylan Tedaldi); his tumultuous relationship with mentor/lover Serge Diaghilev (Evan McKie); and his fiery wife Romola (Xiao Nan Yu). We also saw other "Nijinskis" (Naoya Ebe, Keiichi Hirano, Jonathan Renna) in his famous roles whether as Harlequin, Faun, or Golden Slave. They danced in tandem, in mimicry, or in duet with Cote. They also performed with the ballet dancers of his oeuvres (Les Sylphides, Petruschka, Le Sacre du printemps).

In the second act, the chaotic and confusing hallucinations gave way to direr visions. Interspersed with these performances were glimpses of the horror of the Great War, especially after his brother's deaths. Dancers put on military jackets, thumped and stomped to martial drum beats, and fell down dead by the dozen. By the time we returned to the ballroom, the world has changed for the worse.

Some older mavens were surprised by the material. Given Nijinski's status, perhaps they were expecting limpid classical ballet. But this was relentless contemporary ballet. The classical movements were intertwined with angular, furious modern dancing. Sometimes Cote contorted himself with such abandonment that I was worried about some injury. In addition, there were some crazed vocalizations from hysterical laughter to Nijinski repeatedly screaming "Death" in time to the marching rhythm. There were some small flubs with props and positions. But overall, it was an intense show of physicality and feeling.

Bang-On Brunch

Lamesa at Queen and Bathurst does trendy Filipino to show that "ethnic cuisine" shouldn't be relegated to the cheap eats/student budget category. I enjoyed dinner there, although I didn't love that they tone down some of the more exotic flavours. When I found out that they have a brunch option, I decided to check it out on Saturday.

From a short and simple menu, I chose the Silog Silog Breakfast ($12) with the tradititional bangus (milkfish) instead of the Filipino bacon or sausage. The plate was both familiar and strange. On the typical side, there was an arugula and sunny-side up eggs. Somewhere in the middle was the cassava hash and fried rice (instead of fries and toast). What stopped me was an entire fish, dissected down the middle, and presented whole with head and tail. I don't think you'll see anything half as interesting at any other brunch place.

The milkfish was delicious. It has been smoked, marinated, and then fried so everything was edible, except for the tail. The flesh was salty and fragrant, perfect with salad or rice. The crispy skin (and head) added oily richness. For some tanginess, pour on some Sinamak (spicy filipino vinegar). The cassava was less starchy than potatoes; it had an interesting flavour though it won't replace the tater. I complimented the meal with an extra spicy Caesar ($8). All in all, this was a stand-out brunch.

Sync Or Swim

Tuesday was the first really cold day for November. This might explain the sparse crowd at the Lula Lounge for tonight's music. First up was Retrocity, an 8-member a capella band specializing in 80s songs. They started with Mr. Roboto and sang the gamut from The Cure (Close To Me) and Queen (I'm Going Slightly Mad) to Crowded House (Don't Dream It's Over). Some people loved the arrangements with complex parts while others enjoyed slow ones: hearing 8-part harmony live can be thrilling. They had some exciting news to share. 8 years after their debut album, they are finally recording a second one to be out early next year. Retrocity ended their set with some upbeat CanCon: a Parachute Club 2-parter (Love Is Fire, Rise Up).

The 2nd band for tonight was Synchronicity III, a Police cover band. Fronted by Dylan Bell (Retrocity) on voice/bass, Michael Occhipinti on guitar, and Ben Riley on drums. This was their first gig but they were tight and virtuosic. But it wasn't The Police Greatest Hits though: no Roxanne or Every Breath You Take. The most mainstream covers were Sending Out An SOS and Spirits In The Material World. Otherwise, it was lesser known tunes such as Tea In The Sahara and No Time This Time. Many songs let all 3 "noodle" around with jams or solos. It would be dated and obnoxious for current music, but all is forgiven for retro stuff. Given that Retrocity did a couple of Sting songs in their set, the night had to end with both bands joining forces on Synchronicity II. I'm not sure who did the better guitar solo: Suba Sankaran vocalizing or Occhipinti on an actual guitar. For all their fun with "niche" singing, I think everybody indulged their "play in a rock band" fantasy tonight.

Beast Roll

I wanted to try Branca, a new Argentian grill house near Lansdowne and Dundas, a few weeks ago. But they weren't open on a very rainy Tuesday. However, this Tuesday night, they were available. I was surprised that despite a positive review in the Globe and Mail on the week-end, they weren't busier. Soft padded benches, hip music, exposed brick and wood: all typical mid-scale restaurant décor. The ink collage of naked women stenciled into the stairs going down to the washrooms was an unexpected and tasteless choice though. I assume that the presence of a lasso-wielding gaucho amongst the ladies meant the whole thing was supposed to be kitschy and ironic.

First up was the salchicha parrillera ($11). This appetizer had the best flavour balance of all the dishes: subtle pork sausage, sweet mustard seeds, and toasted corn bread. The main was beef short rib ($23) with harissa and roasted eggplants ($1/each) and a side-order of caramelized endives ($5). I had no complaints about the meat, except perhaps the portion size. Rich, done medium-rare, with crusty ends, it was tasty beef. The condiments and vegetables were too tangy and didn't go well with the entrée. I want my harissa spicy and my eggplant smoky. The base of the endives was juicy and flavourful, better than the tips which had absorbed too much acidity. My dessert was Panqueques ($7): crepes stuffed with dulce de leche and a large dollop of chantilly cream. The warm, sweet dough went great with the cool cream.

Branca is a good restaurant but the price of dinner do creep upward (they have $34 suckling pig and $110 aged beef). Some appetizers and sides have good prices, but it looks like the mains are generally small portions.

Pie-o-metrics

Saturday night, I decided to try one of the "neighbourhood" pizza joints given recent experiences with fancier places. They don't get more old-school than Bitondo's Pizza, at Clinton and College but off the main Little Italy strip. The walls had that slightly faded yellow shade of age, the soft drinks came in a giant, old, top-lidded Coke freezer, and two old men made pizzas in a tiny space by the oven. The cashier knew almost everyone by name and most were obviously regulars. So many people came in and out for a slice or a take-out of sandwiches and pizzas that there was a 35 min wait on my order.

Per basic geometry, the area of your pizza grows hugely with each additional inch of diameter. But I didn't want to get greedy and got a medium (12") anchovies for $11.55. First, a mea culpa. I thought I was ordering the 4-topping option with anchovies on the menu. The cashier thought I wanted a 1-topping deal. I do enjoy this fish, but an anchovies-only pizza wouldn't top anybody's list. So this wasn't going to be a great pizza. Nevertheless, the cheese, tomato, and dough should be able to stand on their own. But sadly, this wasn't any better than your typical pizza franchise. I think people come here for the friendly familiarity. On the other hand, at $1/topping, I could get a 7-8 topping version for the same price as one of the chi-chi variety. For the record, eating the cold leftover slices was pretty good.

Long Form

Friday night, I was at the Dakota Tavern for the new release of The Weather Station. First up was Kith & Kin. This a capella trio admitted shyly performs once a year at a Christmas Wassail (which includes a larger choir). So this set was a special departure for them, prompted by a request from singer Tamara Lindeman. It was odd to hear traditional (and in their words "sacred music") songs such as Bright Morning Stars and Lowlands in a basement bar. Even newer Cool of the Day or In This Heart (Sinead O'Connor) had that hymnal, old-timey arrangement. But it was an new original composition about Toronto Island (done in the folk style) sung with Isla Craig that made the most impact: complex harmony and phrasing that still had that timeless feeling.

The Weather Station doesn't play much as a band. So the venue was sold out ("My first sold-out show" said Lindeman) for the head-liner. In addition to a full line-up of bass, drums, and steel pedal, Isla Craig, Ivy Mairi (Kith & Kin), and Basia Bulat joined Lindeman on vocals. The crowd was hushed but ecstatic for the introspective music both new (Don't Understand, Almost Careless) and old (Everything I Saw, Know It To See It). After Craig exclaimed that she wanted to clap (in appreciation), Lindeman grinned that people don't usually say that (clap-along) about Weather Station music. She dead-panned to laughter: "Usually they wonder is this the rhythm part?" It was true: despite the drummer and bassist, and Lindeman's complex guitar-picking, there was something almost free verse about her songs. But similar to her wonderful Duets show, tonight was about song-craft. In appreciation, the crowd cheered enough for 2 encores.

Return of the Jadea

The Massey Hall Presents series profile promising artists. I dropped by The Rivoli on Thursday night to see pop singer Jadea Kelly. First up was Franco-Ontarian singer Melanie Brulée. Accompanied by a lead guitarist, she played a set that was a bit cabaret and a bit pop (Wonder, Candy Shop). She got cheers for a mash-up Toxic (Britney Spears)/Je ne regrette rien (Edith Piaf) as sung by the latter with an exaggerated French accent and those famous rolled "rrrr"s. I found her verses and rhymes a bit too on the nose/typical to stand out. She was better in French (Obtus, Small Town & The Prey) so it will be interesting to hear her upcoming French album Débridée.

Jadea Kelly took to the stage in a flowy dress and a white feather necklace. Her full band included Tom Juhas (Case Of The Mondays) so there should be some eerie guitar whammies and slide action. She played mostly from her recent album (Wild West Rain, Powell River, Clover): folk-pop songs that were usually languid and layered. Lyrically, her songs also suffered a bit from well-trodden rhymes but had better phrasing and rhythm. There were numerous dedications including a cover of Heaven Is A Place On Earth. Kelly had a natural charm onstage and made perhaps the best merch pitch ever. She had cut up her fingers today making stain-glass ornaments. So she jokingly pointed out that the audience won't find another artist that has merch covered with their own "blood and tears". For her encore, Kelly debuted a new song Mariah which was "her Jolene". The devastating words may shed light on her earlier oblique reference about making 50 demos this year and having an "angry" summer.

Body Of Work

Wednesday night, I went to the Bluma Appel Theatre for the North American premiere of Opus by Australian troupe Circa. It promised to be an evening of circus arts as contemporary dance.

Cirque du Soleil has changed the circus scene. But though each of their show is themed, outside of costumes and sets, their individual acts only really pay lip-service to a grander narrative. Opus tried to play with the feelings and history of the music: Shostakovich's 11th, 8th, and 5th Quartet. As such, there were echos of struggle and oppression in the performers' movements and the various scenes.

First and foremost, it was a thrilling show. From jumps, spins, and handstands to precarious balancing acts and nifty apparatus (hoops, trapeze), this was the 1st dance/theatre performance I've been to where the audience gasped and often cheered or clapped. Yet it was the less flashy moments that stuck with me. My favourite scene had a mischievous pixie-haired girl wandered the stage without touching the ground, thanks to the shoulders, backs, heads, and other body parts of her fellow acrobats.

But there was more to the show than feats of strength and balance. The performers used their skills to tell  stories: romance, conflict, peace, and anger. The Debussy String Quartet not only provided fine music, but were part of the narrative. They did not sit off to one side as background characters. Overall, Opus would be even better artistically with even more dance elements: using a style like contact improv may be a good fit; developing a musical vocabulary that uses repetition and variation; and reducing the big climaxes that require long set-up which break the flow. But these small quibbles aside, the show was a wonderful exploration of the human body and spirit.

In Da Clubhouse

With the terrible pizza from last week, I thought about returning instead to cheap but tasty Fresca Pizza this Tuesday night. But then I changed my mind for meatier fare. Luckily, Clubhouse was in the neighbourhood. Although their triple fried fries was tempting, I opted for a healthier sandwich and soup combo (+$3).

The pumpkin and chickpeas soup came in a substantial bowl. Though tonight is warmer than usual, the hot and buttery puree went down very pleasantly. The chickpeas were soft but not mushy. As for the chicken sandwich ($7), it was delicious. Soft buns held a tasty combination of smoked chicken, pork crackling, and fried avocado. The chimi churrie sauce rounded out the flavour. The only downside: I could eat two.

Slow ... Then Fast

After indie band Forest City Lovers called it quits, singer Kat Burns (as Kashka) quickly puts out two "folkpoptronica" albums. Sunday night, I dropped by The Drake Underground for a special performance celebrating the 1 year anniversary of the sophomore album (and the release of Bones, an acoustic EP).

Kashka's songs are  fun with intelligent lyrics. But Burns' quiet demeanor makes it an awkward fit with the synth music onstage. Tonight, her two sets were much more her style. For the acoustic set, it was an all-female band. Burns had enlisted several friends to do back-up vocals, piano, and cello (Prophet, Lamplight, and new number Repeat). This made the set reminiscent of FCL. But with the more straightforward lyrics and arrangements, this felt more accessible.

For the amped set, it was a full band tonight. She has decided to dial down the synth and augment the guitar parts. Add in a propulsive drummer and bassist, and this was engaging, muscular pop. Again, the "mainstream" material made it less indie and more rock. Burns just need to include some exuberant stage dancing and we'd have a winning formula.

If finances weren't a problem for the music scene, Kashka should be a superband comprising of both parts. They'd be guaranteed of mainstream success (with some luck). Unfortunately, as FCL demonstrated, it's hard to make money as a sprawling collective.

We Can Be Hiros

I don't usually go to movies because of the lack of diversity as well as the rising ticket price. On Saturday, I made an exception to see the new Disney CGI film Big Hero 6 at the Yonge/Dundas Entertainment complex. To get to the theatre, you have to ascend through several levels of stores and restaurants. Since I was already paying a premium, I decided to see it in UltraAVX instead of 3D.

The screen was quite large in this day of shrinking screen size. In fact, the whole movie theatre felt substantial (e.g., a going-out experience) including the reclining seats. I also thought that being able to reserve seats in advanced was a positive (since I was pushing it coming from a dinner in Koreatown).

The film centered around a teen named Hiro Hamada living in San Fransokyo. Although he was smart enough to design winning robots in underground bot fights, his brother Tadashi felt Hiro should apply himself and join his alma mater. After a tragedy killed Tadashi, Hiro joined up with the latter's colleagues to form a "superhero" team. One member of this outfit was an invention of Tadashi, a roly-poly inflatable robot called Baymax. Although meant as a "health care helper", Hiro re-purposed his new friend as an armoured fighter. Well, more or less, since Baymax acted better as a comic to Hiro's straight man.

The "superhero" and fight scenes were run-of-the-mill. The scenes that excelled were the interactions between Hiro and his new friend Baymax, and also with the other "nerds". I appreciated that the main protagonist as well as several secondary and bit-part characters were Asian-Americans, not only on-screen but also with the voice actors. Nothing special was made of their ethnicity outside of darker hair and eyes: no funny accents or fresh-off-the-boat jokes. The locale of San Fransokyo was more "exotic" with signage and buildings. But ever since Blade Runner, nothing says futuristic megacity than flying vehicles and neon kanji. One down side was the weak female characterization, though 2 of them were "kick-ass" but only in the tough-action-chick manner. Overall, this was a fun movie for both adults and kids.

Dance Like No One's Watching

Friday night, I attended a NextStep dance performance at the Fleck Theatre. I have a love/hate relationship with the work from the Toronto Dance Theatre. Some pieces I enjoy, others I can't stop rolling my eyes. Looking over the program called Triple Bill, I noticed that 2 of the works involve improvisional movements. Oh, dear. It's going to be a long night.

The 2nd piece was the most enjoyable. A remount of Early Departures (1992), this work originally looked at gay relationships during the HIV/AIDS era. As such, 4 men dressed in business attire come together and split apart. Each pairing usually involves one man who collapses or falls. His partner(s) attempt to revive, manipulate his body or carry him. Eventually, they give up. This theme iterates over several evolving scenarios. The work was both strange yet compelling.

The book-end pieces Martingales and Pond Skater had dancers create spontaneous movement. With the first, the underlying theory of Brownian motion originally has dancers playing a game of ball in which they twist and spin to throw a ball. Then the movement translates to masses of people who race around the stage: backwards, forwards, in pairs. They never touch but their motions do impact each other. If some begin to spin and twirl, then others eventually adopt these movements.

Pond Skater had a similar approach. But the work was broken into several segments. Within each segment, a particular set of movements predominate forcing the dancers to improvise within constraints. I do admire the body control and spatial awareness needed for improvisation. But I think it leads to safe choreography (nobody wants to fall on their ass) and not much partner work. It was like watching a long and ultimately boring game of "I'm not touching you".

Summertime Past

Summer might be in the rearview mirror, but the bands playing Thursday night at the Horseshoe had music that evoked that feel-good vibe. First up was Only Yours at their first show. But since a few members belonged to recently defunct roots band Great Bloomers, the floor was full for their early set. The Phil Collins t-shirt and Tears For Fear deco on the guitar amp were a clear giveaway. They played synth-heavy love songs (Endless Night, Your Word Is Gold) that were reminiscent of 80s slow jams. Even the guitars were fed through effects to give them that digital sound. Time to snuggle up with your special friend (or accomodating stranger).

Next up was Stella Ella Olla. I thought I had seen them before, but I was wrong. I've certainly heard them mentioned on the local scene. Well, I should have gone to see them sooner because they played great music: jangly upbeat pop, odd lyrics, and danceable. They played through their entire 1st album from Summerette to Peter Sellers, as most songs only clocked in between 2-3 minutes. The lyrics to Proud Mother Stomp ("Once I'm sure you made your mother proud") were modified to reflect the recent election. When the critics described Alvvays music as summertime fun, this (Stella's music) is more what I had in mind.

The Meligrove Band has been around for more than a decade. They reunited and had just finished a new album after a few years on hiatus. The fans were excited to see them back for the release show. Both new and old songs had common elements: propulsive drums, harmonizing guitars, high-fretted bass melodies, and Jason Nunes' slightly plaintive singing. The crowd came to hear the love songs (Our Love Will Make The World Go Round) but also a few new tunes. The band's penchant for numerous musical changes meant that they often created their own "medley" by stringing together several tunes. Appropriately enough, they ended the night with new song Don't Wanna Say Goodbye.

Off With Her Head

I enjoyed eating at Queen Margherita, but this pizzeria's location in the far east end means that I don't make it out there often. So I was excited to hear that a location has opened at Bathurst and Dundas in the past week. Braving the cold autumn rain and construction, I made my way down Tuesday night to try it out.

It's located in a 2-level set-up, the previous site of a carpet store. Right above is Hard Luck Bar; you can hear live music playing faintly through the ceiling. The street level contains a few tables, but the basement is quite large and comfortable. This space is much bigger than its parent though it loses a bit of the cozy trattoria feel. I sat down two tables over from celebrity chef Susur Lee (one of his restaurant, Bent, is just a few doors down). He has just finished his dinner. "Awesome", I thought, "If Lee eats here, this must mean I'm in for a treat with my $29 prix fixe."

How wrong I was. The dinner started nicely enough: an arugula salad sprinkled with goat cheese, dried cranberries, and roasted pecans. I don't like acidic dressing but the saltiness of the cheese and the sweet fruit created a better balance of flavour. The Calabrese came out looking top-notched: generous toppings of sausage and parmigiano and still smoking crusty dough. But after one bite, I couldn't believe how salty it was. I separated out the ingredients. The cheese: slightly salty but typical; the sausage: a little too much so; but even the tomato and dough were too aggressive. Add them up and it was inedible. The pie was just barely tolerable after I scraped off most of the toppings. This was the worst pizza I've ever eaten. The mediocre tiramisu capped off a bad dinner.

The service was no great shakes either. As a non-drinker, I usually expect low-priority service from the waitstaff because I'm not padding out my bill with profitable booze. But even by those standards, I might as well have been invisible. Luckily, there are plenty of other pizzeria options in the west end.

Sidhe No Evil?

Saturday evening, I was at The Storefront Theatre for The Skriker (Caryl Churchill) by The Red One Collective. This creepy play about faerieland would have been perfect for Halloween. But today is The Day of the Dead, so still appropriate. Among the theatre goers, there were people in costumes. After redeeming my ticket, I received a marble from someone in a Jason-esque get-up. A masked girl led us around the back of the building where we gave our marble to a twitchy hag. The usual stage set-up has been reversed so that we sat facing what would usually be the theatre's entrance.

It turns out the hag and other otherwordly creatures including Black Annis, Nellie Longarms were at once both faerie (or perhaps more unseelie) and incarnations of The Skriker. The "main" Skriker (Claire Armstrong) set the scene in a long introduction. Speaking in rambling word associations, it hinted at perhaps territorial conflict between mankind and its own self. Though some of the non-sequiturs made funny jokes, this bowler-hatted creature was no merry leprechaun.

The action centered around the pregnant Lily (Perrie Olthius) and Josie (Suzette McCanny). These young, "lower-class" sisters found themselves in some sort of institution. The former decided that she needed to run away from there. The latter seemed off-kilter due to some private trauma, and insisted that one of the residents was a supernatural creature hundreds of years old. Josie warned Lily to not befriend it, and certainly do not accept its offer to grant wishes.

Both girls escaped separately and found themselves in London. The Skriker, and its various incarnations, attached itself to the women. It tried to ingratiate itself and establish a relationship, whether as friend, cherubic charge, or romantic partner. Each attempt usually fell apart from its simmering rage or alien incomprehensibility. There were obviously strings attached to any promises offered by this mercurial creature.

It was an interesting perspective on normalcy and madness. If your surroundings (as you see it) such as your couch, bed, or TV come to life as disfigured creatures, how would you react? If every person that you interact with (in your experience) is just a different disguise for the same person, can you trust anyone?

The large cast played their role well. But I wasn't quite convince of the coaching directions for Lily and Josie. Sometimes, they reacted to the strange going-ons with practical matter-of-factness; at other times, screeching hysteria. I personally think a normal person would progress from one state to the other (in either direction) instead of this see-saw. The guitar-playing of Andy Trithardt (Kelpie) added to the creepy atmosphere.

Forget It Jake, It's Chinatown

On Saturday, I thought about trying a restaurant in the East end on Queen St. I never made it there but I did end up in Chinatown East. This smaller enclave was less busy than the main one on Spadina and lacked the ubiquitous T-shirt shops. It has also seen some gentrification with a bakery/cafe or two. There were a few sufficiently stocked grocery stores for me to make a few purchases.

I stopped by Rose Cafe. This small Vietnamese sandwich is the perennial go-to spot in any cheap eats article. It was identical to most of these places including Nguyen Huong downtown and Le's Sandwich in the west end: subs, dried goods, and various Vietnamese snacks. Unlike the "high end" banh mi making their ways into mainstream restaurants, the ones here remain modestly priced. In addition to some glutinous rice-based desserts ($1.50/each), I got a shredded chicken sub for $2.50.

Heading East, I noticed a Vietnamese restaurant (Que Linh) just off Gerrard on Boulton. It had a cozy look, being located in a re-zoned house. Could this be a hidden gem? First signs were good: a bunch of cramped tables in a small space, and all occupied; the menu was small; and the prices were cheap. $5 for a small pho? I haven't seen prices like this in years. Also a first: a waitress taking my order instead of me writing it down. I got a plate of pork rice crepes ($5) and a large pho ($6).

The food was good but not excellent. The rolls were thin and nicely soaked up the fish sauce. But the lettuce side was sad; it should be diced cucumbers and a plethora of fresh herbs. The pho noodles and broth were tasty on a cold day. The beef cuts were too thick though and there weren't enough greens. A gem perhaps, but not a diamond. I would visit this place if I was in the neighbourhood.