Death Becomes Them

Having read such a great review for Ride The Cyclone, a musical from Atomic Vaudeville Theatre, amongst other positive reviews, I wanted to check out this show at Theatre Passe Muraille Mainspace for Summerworks. I stood in line for 1.5 hours to get a ticket and a good spot for the performance on Saturday. Let me preemptively say that it was so fantastic that I went back on Saturday and stood in line for another 2 hours to see it again, just in case this troupe from Victoria, B.C. do not mount in production in Toronto again. Although like the Globe and Mail reviewer, I hope they make it big with this hilarious musical.

The Amazing Karnak (first cousin to Zoltar?), recounts a sad tale. He can tell you the time of your death. This being a downer, his carnival owner switches him to "family fun mode". But he has another power: the ability to bring the dead back to life to tell their story. And so he does, at least until his own demise at the hands of a bass guitar-playing rat named Virgil.

The dead are 6 members of the St. Cassius Choir, high school kids from the small Saskatchewan town of Uranium (previously introduced 3 years ago in Legoland.) There's Noel Gruber (Kholby Wardell), the only gay kid in town, who lamented his banal death in a cabaret torch song about wanting to live (and die) a passionate life as an opium-addicted prostitute in post-war Paris. The over-achieving head of the choir is Ocean O'Carroll Rosenberg (Rielle Braid) who transformed herself from her need-to-please childhood balancing act between her Irish and Jewish kin into a skilled, and under-handed, debater who can argue any side of an issue. That is, until the angel Karl Marx showed her that "only your soul is keeping score". Misha Bachinski (Carey Wass) is an angry Ukrainian immigrant who'd rather be a gangsta rap star and leave Uranium to marry his Internet girlfriend from Kiev. Ricky Potts (Elliot Loran) is a non sequitur-spewing, comic-book quoting, piano-playing savant who may be the ruler of a distant planet populated by giant cat people. Constance Blackwood (Kelly Hudson), Ocean's much put-upon BFF, is tired of being labeled a mousy Uranium-lifer. Finally, there is Jane Doe (Sarah Jane Pelzer), who was unidentified because she had lost her head. She staggers about in a doll's head (Ms. Pelzer wears ringlets and black contact lenses), freaking out her fellow choir-members with depressing statements.

The cast members are excellent: singing, dancing, moving props and scenery - always in motion. When they are not doing the solo for their character, they help act out the other people in the singer's life story. So there's a real sense that it's a bunch of "theatre kids" who enjoy putting on show so they can sing, dance, wear silly costumes ... even in death, and even if the topic is someone's sad life. The songs are catchy and hummable, spanning all genres from musical theatre, glam-rock, rap, gospel, and so on.

Underneath all the humour and funny songs (except for Jane Doe's melacholic number), there is sadness. These teenagers won't grow up and leave their teenage angst behind. They won't get a chance to do something with their lives - to "live a life of glory" as Karnak says at one point. And for all their funny patter, as Ocean lamented at one point (although a bit over-dramatically) : "[their] death has really affected [them]". This sense of regret and loss elevate the show to more than just some catchy tunes and one-line zingers.

It was a great performance and I hope they come back to Toronto to put on this show for a longer run. Certainly, this 6 performance run would not have covered much of their costs. At 185 seats for $10/ticket, that would make their total to be just over $11000 for 6 full-house performances (which is likely). Even if the theatre charges minimally for the festival, there are 6 cast members and probably a few behind-the-scenes people. This article reveals that they needed to have a fund-raiser as well as an $18000 donation from their non-for-profit board to secure enough money to mount the production in Toronto. It's too bad they didn't have any CDs for sale. That would have easily netted them an extra $500+ per performance, assuming a profit of $10/CD.

The audience was a different mix at each performance. On Saturday, it was a mix of younger (20s/30s) and older (50s+) people while the Sunday crowd skewed to the younger set. However, next to me on Saturday was a cute girl in a short bob. She was dressed completely in black and didn't seem to react much (polite clap, no laughing). Her expression was one of bemused interest, like one of those anime girl robots who don't "get humans". I wonder if she's going to go out and buy those black contacts. Both days, most people standing in line around me seemed to be "in the theatre", related to people in the theatre, or friends with them. I stood next to Audrey (from Haunted Hillbilly) on Saturday and talked a bit to Rielle on Sunday while she stood in line with some of her friends. I find it a bit disappointing if true since it would mean that Summerworks is just the same people "talking" to each other. And economically, since we were just on that topic, it would mean that the same dollar is being passed around.

Anyway, I hope this Glee-like, but wholly original, piece of musical theatre gets the wide exposure and success it deserves. And if it returns, I will definitely go ride that cyclone one more time.

Ghost Town

I attended a Friday night performance of The Haunted Hillbilly at Theatre Passe Muraille as part of the Summerworks festival. Based on a novel by Derek McCormack, it is a horror musical set to toe-tapping country music. It's a production of a Montreal outfit called Sidemart Theatrical Grocery, but some of the Summerworks cast differs from their original production.

A slick snake-oil salesman named Pastor Ray (Graham Cuthbertson), while peddling his cure-all tonic Hanacol, tells the cautionary tale of one Hyram Woodside (Matthew Raudsepp) aka The Lonely Boy, a struggling country singer. He has a talent for writing sad songs, but ignoring his wife's Audrey (Gemma James-Smith) encouragements, he covers classics by the likes of Erskine Mole (Daniel Brochu) instead. After falling into the clutches (and dazzling suits) of a gay vampire couturier known as Nudie (Greg Kramer) who is wheeled around in his Cadillac wheelchair by his hulking assistant Dr. Wertham (Kyle Gatehouse), Hyram's fortune begins to rise. Leaving his plucky Audrey, Hyram finds a new love in Bobbi (Alexis Taylor), a sweet hotel maid. Being a horror story and a cautionary tale, a happy ending is not in the cards for anyone.

Being both a comedy and a country tale, most roles were played as broad as a Texan sky, though there were some introspective moments. I'm not a fan of country music, the obvious genre for all of the songs, but the Gospel/Spiritual-inspired ones were the best for me. Though the Southern accents come and go, with some actors more than others, there's something about that accent (and the accompanying Southern slangs) that seems to go perfectly with bald-faced lies, hyperbole, embellishments, and them-fighting-words.

Afterwards, I went to Harlem Underground for some soul food, it being a night for all things Southern. The Harlem Jambalaya was a filling mix of seasoned rice with shrimp, chicken, smoked sausage, catfish, crab meat, and some mussels. The room was so dark though, so I can't tell what any of it was until I actually had a bite. This entree had a spicy bite and wasn't bland, though I'd be hard-pressed to say anything else about it. The Blackened Catfish came with some seafood sauce and sauteed greens. The catfish tasted better in this dish thanks to the grilling but the slightly sweet sauce didn't work for me.

Have Gun, Will Travel

I went to the Bloor Cinema to check out a 2008 Korean western, an homage to all those spaghetti western movies, called "The Good, The Bad, The Weird". It's gotten great reviews from all the papers. Can all these critics be wrong?

Nope, they're right. It was a great movie - much more enjoyable than any recent Hollywood flick I've seen. The premise is simple: It is the 1930s. a Korean gangster sells a map, perhaps to some buried treasure, to a Japanese official. Wanting both the map and the money, he double crosses his customer by hiring a psychopathic killer named Chang-yi and his gang to steal the map back by robbing the train carrying the Japanese through Manchuria. But a petty thief called Tae-Goo robs the train first and absconds with it. Hot on their tail for the reward money is the bounty hunter Do-Won. Throw in other assorted low-life such as the Ghost Market Gang and baddies, the Japanese army!, and you have a rollicking Wild West adventure set in the Far East.

Unlike recent Hollywood action flicks which were heavily reliant on a lot of CG, I felt more involved because this movie used actual desert locations and real stunts. Obviously there was CG but it was not intrusive. My favourite set pieces included Do-Won swinging on rope over a shanty town, blasting away with his rifle and a wild chase scene of 5 disparate groups on horseback, motorcycles, jeeps, and vans, all shooting at each other. The image of a cowboy firing at the enemy while his horse is in full gallop (all non CG) was so thrilling that I wanted to go horseback riding after the movie. The movie took all the standard tropes: the stoic hero, the wild-eyed baddie, and even the showdown and made it - it'd be a stretch to say fresh or new - enjoyable. There was a minor issue, a tendency of a lot of Asian films, to have characters reveal some background plot or motivation via expositional speech. But overall, it was a fun 2 hours.

I left the theatre flexing my fingers by my side as if I was preparing to draw my guns before I came to my senses. Pew pew! Pew pew!

Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon

I decided to spend Saturday night checking out some live music at Lee's Palace, a venerable club in the Annex. Perhaps I have false memory of being there some time back, or maybe they renovated, but the layout seemed wholly unfamilar. Most people probably came for Juliette Lewis, but I wanted to check out the first opening band. I missed The Balconies when they opened for Gentleman Reg, but later bought their CD at Soundscapes. I liked their music and had read that they put on a great show. Of course, being the first band on at 9:30 would probably dampen most band's enthusiasm.

I noticed immediately that unlike the people in the clubs I've been to recently, this is a different crowd: less ironic hipster mustaches, more full-blown beards; black clothes and tattoos were the norm, not whimsical dresses and tight jeans. And I'm closer to the average age, as opposed to being on the tail end of the distribution. No time for beer, they were starting already, so I went down onto the sparsely populated area near the stage. The Balconies put on a tight set, enough to entice some of the early crowd into the main dance area by the time their set wrapped up. The drummer and bassist were fairly laconic. But the guitarist, and co-vocalist, with her high heels, tight pants, and Barbarella hair and make-up, was a spastic, jumpy, heel-kicking dynamo.

The area in front of the stage was filling up now. I grabbed a beer and made my way back to the front. Yes, lots of black and rocker logos on t-shirts, but some cute girls, too. A troop of them were beside me, including a short-haired blonde (described by friends as a Canadian Pink), with an overly large Harley t-shirt, cut down the sides to reveal a green, lacy lingerie-like top. By the time the second set finished, we were surrounded by some dames (and incongruously a petite Mary Lou Henner/Retton look-a-like [Lady Frost from the Smoke City Betties?]) from a woman's roller derby team. As for the band, Dearly Beloved, they claim to have formed in 2006. But the two guitarists looked about 20. The bassist (and lead singer), drummer, and back-up singer looked more experienced. They sounded a bit like the Red Hot Chile Peppers because of the complex bass lines. I guess when you're the bassist and lead for a band, you get to indulge in lots of bass wankery. I wasn't as impressed with the female back-up singer, as she seemed a little too Linda McCartney for me (i.e., singing a few lines, playing the tambourine, and doing lots of rock poses and silent shout-outs by pointing her fingers at her "peeps").

It's finally time for the head-liner. I didn't even know Juliette Lewis had a singing career on the side, but obviously her fans do. The people were packing up the area and pushing for the small stage. In addition to the rock girls and derby dames (because of Whip It?), there were now a number of lesbian couples, both the butch/femme combos as well lipstick lesbians, and women in fashionable wear, sporting elbow-length gloves and even head-dresses. Some of them were quite gorgeous, and seemed to actually be older than 25. Juliette Lewis and the Romantiques played standard rock, with some blues-tinged numbers, some ballads, and lots of sing-a-long choruses. Nothing that was extraordinary, but what she had was a powerful, theatrical, stage charisma and some rabid fans.

A lot of them were screaming, stretching out to her, and "rocking" out. I was never more glad for my ear plugs when I felt them vibrating furiously to keep out the high-decibel shrieking all around me. One 50 year-old man was apparently in a state of ecstacy, pumping his arms non-stop, and screaming "Yes, yes, yes" or "I love you" for several songs. I don't know what happened to him for the rest of the set. Some of the women started moshing, thrashing around into each other. I was bemused to realize I was being pushed around by women shorter than me. "Maybe I should start doing weights as well as yoga!" I thought. But then, some of them are in professional roller derby so I don't know if that would have helped. One lesbian dancer clambered up on the stage, cavorted around for a bit with Juliette, then dove off the stage. We caught her and shoved her to the back. Then more climbed on. I was psyching myself up to catch a girl who looked to be 170+ lbs, but by then security had had enough and ushered them all off.

Juliette started the show in a short jacket with black feathery fringes but doffed it and spent most of the set in tight jeans and a see-through red top. Her hair was dyed blue and there were red makeup over her eyes. Her band didn't go for the same Mad Max look but were composed of a guitarist in full fu-manchu and black, an afro-ed drummer right out of stoner casting, a bassist who might be Ming Na Wen's long lost twin, and another guitarist who could be 1st cousin to Miles Zuniga, the lead singer of Fastball.

I left at the end of the set and before the encore, a bit soaked in (other people's) beer and sweat. As I rode the subway home, I started chatting with a 76 year-old man. He had spent the day walking from Mississauga to Fort York in a Support-The-Troops walk. 40 years ago, he had married his 18 year-old bride at the age of 36. Well! Maybe I should have chatted up Canadian Pink; she was at least 22.