I was unable to access the comments section under this article posted (Cult)ure Magazine. So, I have decided to publish my comments here. The article I am responding to can be found here.
I'm afraid I find the point of this article to be rather arbitrary and I am wondering on what the conclusions about popularity and gender are based. Who are these arbiters of culture? It seems the author's conclusions are based solely on perception as opposed to any actual analysis of gender and cultural trends.
Clearly, I have a different filter of experience because I remember when "Da Vinci Code" came out and how the critics laughed during the premiere of the film at Cannes. The book, and particularly the film, were panned by most and I certainly don't remember that happening along gender lines.
If you want to talk gender issues; how about the fact that there was a huge backlash against "Da Vinci Code" for being a "radical feminist" text, celebrating ideas of the 'sacred feminine' and 'goddess worship'. Women, such as this Christian feminist saw the controversy surrounding the book/film as an opportunity to discuss the history of women and Christianity.
If you want to talk about sexism and its effect on popular culture, then it is far more interesting to examine actual content and reflect on what about it creates mass appeal (or, the desire to admit appeal, which seems to be the focus here).
"Twilight" is fascinating because while I agree it is targeted towards women, the narrative contains a classic escape fantasy for both genders. For women, it is to indulge their inherent selfish desires and for men, it is to ignore their baser instincts and strive to be, well, better men.
There actually seems to be interesting conversations happening on both sides when it comes to "Twilight": on the one hand it seems to reinforce stereotypical gender roles and this can both attract and repel (some women argue it is offensive the men get to do all the good ass kicking). On the other, there are discussions about the gender bending in "Twilight" - I think this centres around the film - Robert Pattinson, some would argue, is not your typical male heart throb.
All of this to say, I think the cultural landscape is a little more colourful and a little less simplistic than what this article presents.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Haunted on Halloween
I like being scared. In a previous post, I talked about how I most enjoy that which moves me; and let's face it, scary stories can provoke the most visceral of responses.
Halloween night for me this year was indeed a spooky night. Thanks to some wonderful friends of mine I was able to see a show in Montreal called "Haunted". Written and directed by Paul Van Dyck, "Haunted" is the alleged true story of Esther Cox, who, in 1878 was the victim of a poltergeist. The Great Amherst Mystery, it is called, and apparently its one of the most famous and most documented accounts of a poltergeist occurrence in Canada.
Esther was a 19 year old girl who, after suffering an incident of attempted rape, began to see and hear some very strange things. It started with a voice, that would whisper her name, and then it was rapping or banging noises that would vary in volume and could last for hours. Sometimes lit matches would appear out of nowhere and fall on the floor. Things happened to her physically as well; apparently one time her body began to swell up and then deflated just as suddenly.
There were witnesses to these events; Esther Cox lived with her sister and her sister's husband, and although these occurrences started in their home, weird things were eventually happening when she would leave the house. Most famously, the knocking sounds once interrupted a Baptist church service and didn't stop until an embarrassed Miss Cox left the building.
What caused this haunting? We have no way of knowing, but there are a few interesting theories. One is that Esther was either orchestrating these events, or imagining them, because of the trauma she had experienced. Another is that the man who assaulted her, Bob MacNeal, was possessed by some kind of demon spirit, that was then passed on to Esther.
Van Dyck's play is told from the perspective of Walter Hubble, an actor who actually travelled to Amherst in June of 1879 to convince Esther to take her 'talents' on tour. Believing she was a master illusionist, he thought the two of them could make a lot of money by doing a lecture circuit. Crowds however, were skeptical, and at one such 'lecture' when Esther couldn't produce evidence of the ghost on command, the crowd turned on her and all-out riot drove her to return to her sister's. Hubble went on to collect evidence of the poltergeist, which he later published in a book called "The Haunted House". This book reportedly includes an affidavit signed by several Amherst citizens who witnessed the hauntings.
Walter Hubble was played by the very compelling Paul Van Dyck. He is clearly a very talented guy and although I am having trouble finding information on his company, Rabbit in a Hat Productions, I would certainly see something of his if I had the chance again. The story Van Dyck created is based on available facts, and has the necessary elements of a scary show, but also has well established characters and a sense of humour. In one of the funniest kind of 'meta' moments near the end of the play, Van Dyck as Hubble laments the fact there is no satisfying conclusion to this story, which is wink to the audience about the difficulty of ending the play.
In the actual story, the hauntings did stop eventually but again there is no known reason why; one theory is that Esther visited a Mic Mac Medicine Man and that he exorcised whatever demons she possessed. Catherine Berube played Esther Cox in this production and I have to say she really stood out; such an amazing energy on stage. She aptly portrayed a young woman who was at once brave and headstrong, but also a victim of terrifying and tragic circumstances.
What really made this evening was the setting. The St.James United Church right in downtown Montreal is old and creaky and has lots of levels and entrances; the perfect place for a scary story. The designers for this show did an excellent job of working within the space: lighting designer Jody Burkholder was able to focus in on the action, leaving much of the surroundings in deliciously spooky darkness. Helen Rainbird's costume design helped put the audience in the 1870s. The computer animation (Jeremy Eliosoff) and sound design (Jesse Ash) made the hauntings both real and spectacular. But what really brought it all together for me was the live music provided by fiddler Daniel Giverin and cellist Trevor Smith.
During the show, I admit to jumping in my seat several times, as well as biting my nails and grabbing my date's leg as if for safety. This was a perfect show to see on Halloween night and it was complimented nicely by the spooky wind, dark clouds, and almost full moon courtesy of Mother Nature.
Halloween night for me this year was indeed a spooky night. Thanks to some wonderful friends of mine I was able to see a show in Montreal called "Haunted". Written and directed by Paul Van Dyck, "Haunted" is the alleged true story of Esther Cox, who, in 1878 was the victim of a poltergeist. The Great Amherst Mystery, it is called, and apparently its one of the most famous and most documented accounts of a poltergeist occurrence in Canada.
Esther was a 19 year old girl who, after suffering an incident of attempted rape, began to see and hear some very strange things. It started with a voice, that would whisper her name, and then it was rapping or banging noises that would vary in volume and could last for hours. Sometimes lit matches would appear out of nowhere and fall on the floor. Things happened to her physically as well; apparently one time her body began to swell up and then deflated just as suddenly.
There were witnesses to these events; Esther Cox lived with her sister and her sister's husband, and although these occurrences started in their home, weird things were eventually happening when she would leave the house. Most famously, the knocking sounds once interrupted a Baptist church service and didn't stop until an embarrassed Miss Cox left the building.
What caused this haunting? We have no way of knowing, but there are a few interesting theories. One is that Esther was either orchestrating these events, or imagining them, because of the trauma she had experienced. Another is that the man who assaulted her, Bob MacNeal, was possessed by some kind of demon spirit, that was then passed on to Esther.
Van Dyck's play is told from the perspective of Walter Hubble, an actor who actually travelled to Amherst in June of 1879 to convince Esther to take her 'talents' on tour. Believing she was a master illusionist, he thought the two of them could make a lot of money by doing a lecture circuit. Crowds however, were skeptical, and at one such 'lecture' when Esther couldn't produce evidence of the ghost on command, the crowd turned on her and all-out riot drove her to return to her sister's. Hubble went on to collect evidence of the poltergeist, which he later published in a book called "The Haunted House". This book reportedly includes an affidavit signed by several Amherst citizens who witnessed the hauntings.
Walter Hubble was played by the very compelling Paul Van Dyck. He is clearly a very talented guy and although I am having trouble finding information on his company, Rabbit in a Hat Productions, I would certainly see something of his if I had the chance again. The story Van Dyck created is based on available facts, and has the necessary elements of a scary show, but also has well established characters and a sense of humour. In one of the funniest kind of 'meta' moments near the end of the play, Van Dyck as Hubble laments the fact there is no satisfying conclusion to this story, which is wink to the audience about the difficulty of ending the play.
In the actual story, the hauntings did stop eventually but again there is no known reason why; one theory is that Esther visited a Mic Mac Medicine Man and that he exorcised whatever demons she possessed. Catherine Berube played Esther Cox in this production and I have to say she really stood out; such an amazing energy on stage. She aptly portrayed a young woman who was at once brave and headstrong, but also a victim of terrifying and tragic circumstances.
What really made this evening was the setting. The St.James United Church right in downtown Montreal is old and creaky and has lots of levels and entrances; the perfect place for a scary story. The designers for this show did an excellent job of working within the space: lighting designer Jody Burkholder was able to focus in on the action, leaving much of the surroundings in deliciously spooky darkness. Helen Rainbird's costume design helped put the audience in the 1870s. The computer animation (Jeremy Eliosoff) and sound design (Jesse Ash) made the hauntings both real and spectacular. But what really brought it all together for me was the live music provided by fiddler Daniel Giverin and cellist Trevor Smith.
During the show, I admit to jumping in my seat several times, as well as biting my nails and grabbing my date's leg as if for safety. This was a perfect show to see on Halloween night and it was complimented nicely by the spooky wind, dark clouds, and almost full moon courtesy of Mother Nature.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Moments and Feelings, Or, The Time I Played a Dog in the School Play
Theatre has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. As a kid I was always involved in doing community Christmas concerts and performing skits at family gatherings; but the first 'real' piece of theatre I remember being a part of is when I was in grade 3 and I was asked to be in the junior high production of "Rip Van Winkle". I was a good student who clearly enjoyed music class, but the reason my music teacher (who was the director of the show) cast me was because I was the only one small enough to fit into the dog costume. That's right, my first big break was as Rip Van Winkle's dog.
For anyone who doesn't know the story of Rip Van Winkle, here's a quick synopsis: Rip is a likeable but lazy farmer who has a cantankerous wife, a daughter, and a loyal dog named Wolf. One day Rip and Wolf take a walk into the mountains where they meet a man who gives them a strange liquor that makes them sleepy. Rip and Wolf fall asleep under a tree, and when they wake up 20 years have passed. Rip and Wolf, now old and grey, end up moving in with Rip's now grown daughter. They resume their idle ways except now they are free from Rip's nagging wife. Rip Van Winkle is not really a redeemable character, and there isn't much of a lesson to be learned from his story. In fact, I remember it being some sort of musical comedy... And yes, it is crazy that the dog survives the 20 years, but it meant I had the added acting challenge of playing the senior citizen version of a dog. Trust me, it killed. People found it very amusing.
Oh, but don't get me wrong: this was a serious role. I had to learn blocking and practice my bark, as well as my growl. I had to remember when to make noise and when to be still, and what the appropriate facial expression was for each moment. My costume had knee pads so I could crawl across the stage on all fours and it had these big floppy ears and I had to get make-up done to look like a dog. AND - I was excused from class so I could attend rehearsals with the junior high kids. I loved it. I loved the rehearsals, I loved being with the big kids and I especially loved performing in front of the audience. I felt special.
For anyone who doesn't know the story of Rip Van Winkle, here's a quick synopsis: Rip is a likeable but lazy farmer who has a cantankerous wife, a daughter, and a loyal dog named Wolf. One day Rip and Wolf take a walk into the mountains where they meet a man who gives them a strange liquor that makes them sleepy. Rip and Wolf fall asleep under a tree, and when they wake up 20 years have passed. Rip and Wolf, now old and grey, end up moving in with Rip's now grown daughter. They resume their idle ways except now they are free from Rip's nagging wife. Rip Van Winkle is not really a redeemable character, and there isn't much of a lesson to be learned from his story. In fact, I remember it being some sort of musical comedy... And yes, it is crazy that the dog survives the 20 years, but it meant I had the added acting challenge of playing the senior citizen version of a dog. Trust me, it killed. People found it very amusing.
Oh, but don't get me wrong: this was a serious role. I had to learn blocking and practice my bark, as well as my growl. I had to remember when to make noise and when to be still, and what the appropriate facial expression was for each moment. My costume had knee pads so I could crawl across the stage on all fours and it had these big floppy ears and I had to get make-up done to look like a dog. AND - I was excused from class so I could attend rehearsals with the junior high kids. I loved it. I loved the rehearsals, I loved being with the big kids and I especially loved performing in front of the audience. I felt special.
While this experience didn't quite inspire me to become an actor, it definitely made a huge impression on the 8-yr old me; and it sowed the seeds for a life long appreciation of live theatre. At that age, theatre to me was 'a big deal', and certainly being in a show was a very big deal. And not as much fun as I initially thought - it was actually quite serious and quite a bit of work. Oh, but the payoff! That feeling of making people laugh...I'm fairly certain I was warned not to upstage Rip Van Winkle with my antics.
When I try to recall the first piece of theatre I watched, there is one show that stands out in my mind. It was a local production of "Anne of Green Gables". I don't remember how old I was, but I was young enough that seeing "Anne" on stage was very exciting, and yet old enough that I remember what it felt like to be part of the audience.
What I think has always stayed with me about theatre are these two things: moments and feelings. To experience live theatre is to share a moment with a group of people that can never be duplicated. And sometimes those moments are the happy accidents, like the rocking chair in "Anne of Green Gables". When I think about why I see theatre now I have to say it has to do with how it makes me feel. Of course I am drawn to a good story, and I'm able to intellectualize the various facets of a particular production, but when it comes down to it I'm always looking for those moments that will move me. Life goes by pretty fast, even when you're not sleeping, and those rare little moments are the ones that really stick.
When I try to recall the first piece of theatre I watched, there is one show that stands out in my mind. It was a local production of "Anne of Green Gables". I don't remember how old I was, but I was young enough that seeing "Anne" on stage was very exciting, and yet old enough that I remember what it felt like to be part of the audience.
There was a particular moment in that production that is the reason I have such a clear recollection. This was the type of production where a curtain was used to open and close each scene. The memorable moment came just after the death of Matthew Cuthbert. A sad moment in any telling of "Anne of Green Gables", this one was rendered poignant by a simple mistake. Matthew Cuthbert had a rocking chair. And when the curtain opened for the scene following his death, his rocking chair was still moving. It was the only movement on stage and probably lasted about ten seconds which was enough to make the whole audience feel it was a moment. In reality this happened because no one noticed the chair was rocking before they opened the curtains. And yet that moment ended up symbolizing Matthew's death (and obviously I'm imposing meaning in retrospect - I wasn't ever that precocious); physically he was gone but he made such an impact, particularly on Anne, that he would always be there. It was also a symbol of mortality; the slow rocking motion leading to the eventual stillness. It was beautiful.
What I think has always stayed with me about theatre are these two things: moments and feelings. To experience live theatre is to share a moment with a group of people that can never be duplicated. And sometimes those moments are the happy accidents, like the rocking chair in "Anne of Green Gables". When I think about why I see theatre now I have to say it has to do with how it makes me feel. Of course I am drawn to a good story, and I'm able to intellectualize the various facets of a particular production, but when it comes down to it I'm always looking for those moments that will move me. Life goes by pretty fast, even when you're not sleeping, and those rare little moments are the ones that really stick.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Top Ten Reasons Why I Love the Ottawa Fringe Festival (and Why I Think You Should Too)
On Monday the Ottawa Citizen published this article by Patrick Langston as a preview to the Ottawa Fringe Festival. While I enjoy the fact he briefly profiles a few of the artists participating in this year's Festival, I did not enjoy that this was another article about poor artists struggling to make money. The subtle (and I'm sure unintentional) implication is that these artists could not get work anywhere else - and not only that but it smacks of desperation: please buy tickets or these artists will literally starve!
There are so many positive reasons to see shows at the Fringe, it is beyond me why a journalist, especially one with the kind of reach the Ottawa Citizen has (The Citizen, unlike other smaller publications, is sure to reach people who may not know what a Fringe Festival is and I would argue this is not a good introduction), would choose such a narrow and somewhat negative angle. (The only quote from the article that really resonated with me was from Emily Pearlman, ""You don't do it to make money," she says. "You do it to get your work in front of an audience and develop it and to see work from other cities." Right on, sister! This is much more to the point. )
As an enthusiastic patron of this year's Festival, I have been thinking a lot about how incredible, from an audience perspective, the Fringe really is. And I know that if too many people actually figure this out, it will be a lot harder for me to get into the shows I really want to see, and the Courtyard will be way too crowded, so in a way I guess I am relieved that the Ottawa Citizen doesn't quite get it...
So, partly in response to this article I have decided to present my own preview of the Fringe. Of course the popular way of previewing is do a list of "Fringe picks" as Jessica Ruano and Nancy Kenny have done. As a twist on the top ten must-see list, I submit to you my Top Ten reasons why I love the Fringe, and why I think you should too:
There are so many positive reasons to see shows at the Fringe, it is beyond me why a journalist, especially one with the kind of reach the Ottawa Citizen has (The Citizen, unlike other smaller publications, is sure to reach people who may not know what a Fringe Festival is and I would argue this is not a good introduction), would choose such a narrow and somewhat negative angle. (The only quote from the article that really resonated with me was from Emily Pearlman, ""You don't do it to make money," she says. "You do it to get your work in front of an audience and develop it and to see work from other cities." Right on, sister! This is much more to the point. )
As an enthusiastic patron of this year's Festival, I have been thinking a lot about how incredible, from an audience perspective, the Fringe really is. And I know that if too many people actually figure this out, it will be a lot harder for me to get into the shows I really want to see, and the Courtyard will be way too crowded, so in a way I guess I am relieved that the Ottawa Citizen doesn't quite get it...
So, partly in response to this article I have decided to present my own preview of the Fringe. Of course the popular way of previewing is do a list of "Fringe picks" as Jessica Ruano and Nancy Kenny have done. As a twist on the top ten must-see list, I submit to you my Top Ten reasons why I love the Fringe, and why I think you should too:
1. The Fringe Courtyard. This is something the Ottawa Fringe does really, really well (props to Kevin Waghorn who has spent years perfecting the formula). Never been to a Fringe Festival before? Start in the Courtyard. There is great food, great music, great beer and all in an outdoor patio-type setting. In fact, it is entirely possible to hang out in the Courtyard and never even see a show. However, each night Bradriona (read: Chats with Cat, hosted by Brad) presents previews of what is on offer at this year's Festival, and I dare you to watch these previews and not feel curious enough to see at least one show. This is the see and be seen centre of activity and with Bradriona running the show, you never know what might happen. Good times are a certainty. So are awesome giveaways...
2. Access. Having trouble deciding which show to see next? No problem, while you're waiting to get into a venue, chances are there's an artist there ready and willing to tell you about their show. Love something you've seen? Chances are, the performer who was on stage earlier will be in the Courtyard later. And in such a casual, fun atmosphere, there's no reason to be shy about chatting with a performer about their show. It's really easy to feel isolated from most theatre: you sit in the dark house and it is presented to you but all you have for context is whatever the company has chosen to put in their program. And if you're not the kind of person who religiously attends the fancy opening nights or the scheduled talk backs, you rarely get a sense of the people behind the shows. But with the Fringe, it's all right there in front of you (warts and all), and this makes for a much more overall satisfying experience.
2. Access. Having trouble deciding which show to see next? No problem, while you're waiting to get into a venue, chances are there's an artist there ready and willing to tell you about their show. Love something you've seen? Chances are, the performer who was on stage earlier will be in the Courtyard later. And in such a casual, fun atmosphere, there's no reason to be shy about chatting with a performer about their show. It's really easy to feel isolated from most theatre: you sit in the dark house and it is presented to you but all you have for context is whatever the company has chosen to put in their program. And if you're not the kind of person who religiously attends the fancy opening nights or the scheduled talk backs, you rarely get a sense of the people behind the shows. But with the Fringe, it's all right there in front of you (warts and all), and this makes for a much more overall satisfying experience.
3. Influence. A product of this all-access environment. Your influence as an audience member can help to make or break the experience for a particular company. Your recommendations will convince others to see (or not) a particular show. Your vote will determine who gets to put the "Best of Venue" tag line on their poster. At the Fringe, the audience is king. Oh, the power...
(just remember, with great power comes great responsibility...)
(just remember, with great power comes great responsibility...)
4. New work. As Ms. Pearlman pointed out in the aforementioned Citizen article, the Fringe is an excellent venue for testing out new work. A Fringe production is a step above a workshop presentation; as it can be the first public presentation of a shiny new show where not only is the script being tested, but it's the first chance to try out the related technical elements. What is really cool about this is you can watch Canadian work as it develops and then be able to say "I saw it when..." Also, and this goes back to #3, as a kind of test audience you have a direct impact on how that show might change - based on your honest reactions to it (and maybe that conversation you had with the director in the Courtyard...)
5. Touring Shows/Artists. I don't know about you, but I don't often get the chance to see what theatre is happening in Victoria, or Albuquerque or Winnipeg or Australia, so the fact that artists from all over the world are brought to me, and I can see them for only $10 - that is an incredibly great deal.
6. The Game. With only ten days and 57 shows on offer, the Fringe Festival is kind of like the Amazing Race of theatre. How many shows can you see? How many must-show sees can you get into? How many days into the Festival will the passes be sold out? Who will emerge as the person who has seen the most stuff while retaining the most sanity? This is a fun game, but be forewarned: like any smorgasbord , the Fringe can inspire an overindulgence of stuff you love so just remember to pace yourself.
7. The Danger. This goes along with playing the game: sometimes all you have to go on is a brief description in the program or maybe a 30-second pitch from an earnest artist. So let's face it, you are taking a risk when you choose what shows to see. But doesn't this add to the intrigue? The danger exists that you may see something you really don't enjoy - but without the risk, where would be the joy when you stumble into something you love? Let's be honest; danger is sexy.
8. The Conversation. While on site at the Fringe, whether you're running into people you know or strangers waiting outside a venue; there is a running conversation that bonds all Fringe patrons together: "What have you seen?" , "What did you think?" "What are you seeing next?", "What are your picks?", and my personal favourite, "Do we have time for a beer before the show?"
At the Fringe, there is no need for boring small talk. It is all business. Well, business and beer.
9. Fringe Crushes. Ever heard of this phenomenon? Anyone who attends the Fringe regularly will tell you, the Fringe Crush is real. And it's hardly surprising if you think about it. The Fringe Festival attracts some beautiful people. And when you see these talented amazing performers strutting their stuff on stage (or in the Courtyard, or maybe both) I dare you not to fall in love with at least one of them. And as long as this doesn't lead to a boom of Fringe babies or Fringe-related divorces, it's all good.
At the Fringe, there is no need for boring small talk. It is all business. Well, business and beer.
9. Fringe Crushes. Ever heard of this phenomenon? Anyone who attends the Fringe regularly will tell you, the Fringe Crush is real. And it's hardly surprising if you think about it. The Fringe Festival attracts some beautiful people. And when you see these talented amazing performers strutting their stuff on stage (or in the Courtyard, or maybe both) I dare you not to fall in love with at least one of them. And as long as this doesn't lead to a boom of Fringe babies or Fringe-related divorces, it's all good.
10. You know where your money is going. Okay, I know I started this post by saying I didn't want to focus on the economics of the Fringe, but it wouldn't be fair to do a top ten list without at least mentioning ticket prices and the unique box office philosophy. Part of the accessibility I was referring to earlier when it comes to the Fringe is economic accessibility. At $10 a show (or $70 for 10 shows with a pass!) most people can afford to at least test the waters of this Festival. But the best part is, you know when you lay down that $10, it is going directly to the artists involved in the show. How often when you see theatre are you paying convenience fees or facility fees...theatre tickets can be prohibitively expensive and sometimes you get the feeling you're supporting the 'institution' rather than the work. Well, not at Fringe. A one-time $2 pin is your pledge to the organization, and the rest is for those who have worked their butts off to bring you something that makes you laugh or makes you think or leaves you with that little lump in your throat. It's a beautiful thing, don't you think?
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Future of Journalism
Yesterday Sterling wrote about the reasons people blog. His post was inspired by this entry, from "Life's a Pitch". I was particularly struck by this last paragraph:
He raises the question - and this is comes back to the "Pitch" quote - what is the validity of the so-called cultural conversation if people are not able dedicate enough time and energy to the pursuit; in other words, if they are not able to make writing their profession?
The defense of traditional forms of media usually includes an argument such as David Simon's about the importance of the profession. And the argument against new media has to do with the struggle to monetize it. Culture Grrl is clearly actively engaged in this struggle. And I have complete respect for someone who just wants to make a living doing what is important to her. This connects to David Simon's argument: if you are being compensated for your time, then conceivably you can spend more of it engaging with your subject matter.
What happens when we lose experienced and well connected journalists (because there is no longer money to pay them) and information instead comes from sources such as blogs, written by those with potentially less training and experience?
This debate happens in theatre all the time: there are those who will not take on a project (or cannot, if they belong to a union) if it is not professional - and yet community/amateur theatre has always existed and continues to thrive. The assertion of the professional artist is that they should be paid a living wage to engage in the work in which they have trained and have experience; it is their profession.
As in theatre, the important question in journalism is how does it serve the community? Simon argues that a disconnect from the newsroom leads to a disconnect from the community. Here is a response to Simon from "The Opinionator" Eric Etheridge. He points to a number of civic-minded bloggers who are dedicated to covering their community, their 'beat'.
Now, what I like about Sterling's piece and it's connection to the debate, is this kind of revitalized definition of what it means to profit from one's writing. Sterling's point, and I'm totally paraphrasing/extrapolating here, is that there is a measurable gain from accessing and engaging a particular community, and that in the long run this has more advantages because it develops a stronger sense of community and helps advance the cultural conversation.
The larger idea here is about developing ways of engaging one another that doesn't include a financial transaction. I agree with Sterling that there is a different kind of payoff in building "a community with words". This implies and in fact demonstrates the kind of civic-mindedness that David Simon argues must be preserved.
I also think there is beauty in mixing together many different voices, and that insight can be gained when more people participate than what was possible in traditional journalism. The traditional media machine or 'gatekeeper' would keep all but the most elite voices from being heard. Jan Phillips over at the Huffington Post wrote this about the interesting threshold of capitalism where we find ourselves. She argues that this is a time for "community engagement and community inquiry". And she warns against the kind of system we have had, where we focus on profit alone. "The questions now," she states, "are bigger than profit, bigger than returns on investment, bigger than individual success."
So, how do we engage with these questions? Are journalism and the cultural conversation mutually exclusive as "Pitch" suggests? How do we keep the ideals of high-end journalism, which include the commitment to challenge authority (David Simon); without the salaried positions for said journalists, without begging money from readers (Culture Grrl), and without "family money" (Life's a Pitch)?
Being new to blogs and to blogging, I am intrigued by these new(ish) forms of two-way (or multi-way?) communication. I have been following a number of blogs for a few months now and am only just starting to wrap my brain around the concept that these writers don't just want me to read their posts, they want feedback. Being a lover of words, I am used to taking in without ever having to give back. I am a consumer. I am trained to consume. I also grew up with the belief that only opinions to be trusted were those expressed by individuals with 'credentials'.
Perhaps the elimination of the kind of journalism that David Simon admits has only existed for about the last 50 years, is part of the wildfire Jan Phillips is talking about. Perhaps a clean slate is what we need in order to re-start the conversation. And I'm realizing it is a conversation, as it affects all of us. The message, it seems to me, is to stop merely consuming; to stop measuring the value of something by how much it costs or the validity/importance of work by how much you are getting paid. And instead, to measure the powerful reach of ideas as they are shared, shaped and re-shaped by those with the passion to engage with their beat.
I like to think that artists and industry folks with blogs constitute an important aspect of the broader cultural conversation, but I don't pretend it's journalism. Where would be be if all of our news came from people with "real"/"day" jobs? Someone has to be an unbiased reporter of the facts. Someone, I guess, with family money?The digital age has provided not only the means to publish your own work, but free and easy access to an audience. This has created the debate around what it means to be a journalist. US Senator John Kerry recently brought attention to this debate with his "Future of Journalism" hearings. David Simon, creator of the HBO series "The Wire", testified before the Senate Committee and his comments can be found here. What Simon tackles in his statement is traditional high-end journalism versus new media, such as blogs.
He raises the question - and this is comes back to the "Pitch" quote - what is the validity of the so-called cultural conversation if people are not able dedicate enough time and energy to the pursuit; in other words, if they are not able to make writing their profession?
The defense of traditional forms of media usually includes an argument such as David Simon's about the importance of the profession. And the argument against new media has to do with the struggle to monetize it. Culture Grrl is clearly actively engaged in this struggle. And I have complete respect for someone who just wants to make a living doing what is important to her. This connects to David Simon's argument: if you are being compensated for your time, then conceivably you can spend more of it engaging with your subject matter.
What happens when we lose experienced and well connected journalists (because there is no longer money to pay them) and information instead comes from sources such as blogs, written by those with potentially less training and experience?
This debate happens in theatre all the time: there are those who will not take on a project (or cannot, if they belong to a union) if it is not professional - and yet community/amateur theatre has always existed and continues to thrive. The assertion of the professional artist is that they should be paid a living wage to engage in the work in which they have trained and have experience; it is their profession.
As in theatre, the important question in journalism is how does it serve the community? Simon argues that a disconnect from the newsroom leads to a disconnect from the community. Here is a response to Simon from "The Opinionator" Eric Etheridge. He points to a number of civic-minded bloggers who are dedicated to covering their community, their 'beat'.
Now, what I like about Sterling's piece and it's connection to the debate, is this kind of revitalized definition of what it means to profit from one's writing. Sterling's point, and I'm totally paraphrasing/extrapolating here, is that there is a measurable gain from accessing and engaging a particular community, and that in the long run this has more advantages because it develops a stronger sense of community and helps advance the cultural conversation.
The larger idea here is about developing ways of engaging one another that doesn't include a financial transaction. I agree with Sterling that there is a different kind of payoff in building "a community with words". This implies and in fact demonstrates the kind of civic-mindedness that David Simon argues must be preserved.
I also think there is beauty in mixing together many different voices, and that insight can be gained when more people participate than what was possible in traditional journalism. The traditional media machine or 'gatekeeper' would keep all but the most elite voices from being heard. Jan Phillips over at the Huffington Post wrote this about the interesting threshold of capitalism where we find ourselves. She argues that this is a time for "community engagement and community inquiry". And she warns against the kind of system we have had, where we focus on profit alone. "The questions now," she states, "are bigger than profit, bigger than returns on investment, bigger than individual success."
So, how do we engage with these questions? Are journalism and the cultural conversation mutually exclusive as "Pitch" suggests? How do we keep the ideals of high-end journalism, which include the commitment to challenge authority (David Simon); without the salaried positions for said journalists, without begging money from readers (Culture Grrl), and without "family money" (Life's a Pitch)?
Being new to blogs and to blogging, I am intrigued by these new(ish) forms of two-way (or multi-way?) communication. I have been following a number of blogs for a few months now and am only just starting to wrap my brain around the concept that these writers don't just want me to read their posts, they want feedback. Being a lover of words, I am used to taking in without ever having to give back. I am a consumer. I am trained to consume. I also grew up with the belief that only opinions to be trusted were those expressed by individuals with 'credentials'.
Perhaps the elimination of the kind of journalism that David Simon admits has only existed for about the last 50 years, is part of the wildfire Jan Phillips is talking about. Perhaps a clean slate is what we need in order to re-start the conversation. And I'm realizing it is a conversation, as it affects all of us. The message, it seems to me, is to stop merely consuming; to stop measuring the value of something by how much it costs or the validity/importance of work by how much you are getting paid. And instead, to measure the powerful reach of ideas as they are shared, shaped and re-shaped by those with the passion to engage with their beat.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
And So It Is
It so happens that my first post is happening the day of the second annual Rideau Awards. That being the case, I've decided to share my own theatre year in review.
The highlights:
- Theatrophy's "Moribund" in the Irving Greenberg Studio Theatre. The artistic collaboration of Nick Di Gaetano, Jesse Buck and Aron De Casmaker is unlike anything else happening in this town. "Moridbund" seemed more like a seed than a flower, but it had all the elements: interesting design, movement and original music - and most importantly, good storytelling. I am told the company is now on hiatus, but I definitely look forward to following their respective solo endeavours.
- Pierre Brault. And I hear you: I hear you groaning "what, that guy again?". Yeah, well, that guy did two, count 'em, two, one man shows in 2008. 5 O'Clock Bells told the tragic story of Lenny Brault - another visually stunning collaboration between Pierre Brault and Brian Quirt. Catalpa, produced by Seven-Thirty Productions, was storytelling of epic proportions. A bedroom, occupied by a man in his pajamas is transformed into a ship on the high seas - loved it. And it's not about the ability to do different voices, or even the slight physicalities brought to each character - although both of these things are part of Brault's impressiveness. It is the storytelling that gets me every time with the projects that he chooses. I am a sucker for a good story, and not only does he choose great material, but he has the ability to bring that material to life in beautiful and entertaining ways. I understand he is working on a new show with GCTC and I can't wait to see what he does next.
- Colleen Sutton in Seven-Thirty Productions "Iron". Now, I am a huge Margo Macdonald fan - probably her biggest - and what impressed me about this show was Sutton's ability to go toe to toe with the best and hold her own. Before this, Sutton was in danger of being typecast as the dumb blonde. With this role, she was able to prove she has depth and range. And work ethic - guarunteed this role made her work. I will also wait to see what she does next.
- a Company of Fools "Romeo and Juliet". AL Connors directorial debut pushed him into a whole new phase of his career. My impression is that Connors set out to make the kind of theatre he wants to see - and I wish more people had the courage to do this. His ability to direct physical comedy shows his appreciation for the form and his innate sense of comic timing pays off in ways the actors themselves don't get until opening night. On top of this, his ability to reign in a cast of clowns (literally) demonstrates an ability to get things done. I don't think Connors is going to win the emerging artist award tonight because it is a tough category - but I do think his nomination demonstrates a growing respect towards the work he, and the Fools, are doing and this is well and truly deserved.
- Andy Massingham: in 2008 I discovered this fabulous performer named Andy Massingham. He is nominated for his performance in "How the Other Half Loves" but that is really the tip of the iceburg in terms of what this guy can do. I look forward to his 2009 nomination for "Peer Gynt". Come on, we all know it's coming.
- My Name is Rachel Corrie: Vision Theatre. Sarah McVie took what is barely even a script (the story is taken from a series of journal entries, and was edited by Alan Rickman) and turned it into the most moving performance of 2008. Period. I was moved to tears when I saw this show, and I can't say enough good things about McVie. Actually, I can't help but wonder what her roles in 2008 did to her: playing two dying characters in one year (the other being GCTC's "Zadie's Shoes"). Her work is lovely and understated while at the same time she has a powerful, commanding presence. This was Vision Theatre's first show after taking a year hiatus: I can only hope they take the hint from this nomination and do more work that involves artists of this calibre.
- Speaking of calibre, Annie Lefebvre in "Danny and the Deep Blue Sea". I have no idea how Chamber Theatre snagged her, but Lefebvre, in my mind, toe to toe with Sarah McVie for the absolute best female performance in 2008. I first fell in love with this actor when she terrified me as "Medea" a couple of years ago, and I was so thrilled to find her again in this gem of a show. The venue - the Elmdale Tavern - helped in make this one of the best theatrical experiences of the year. The fact we were all so close to two such powerhouse performances was breathtakingly awesome. These two actors can sweat and spit on me anytime. (In fact, I hope they do)
- "Rabbit Hole", Gladstone Productions: in my mind this probably the most underrated show of the year. I thought Maureen Smith's performance as a woman dealing with the loss of her child was gripping and real. And I think she did it despite the lack of support from her fellow actors. Director Janet Irwin always makes such bold and interesting casting choices and this particular mish mash almost worked. I loved Michele Fansett as Smith's mother and Nancy Kenny didn't have to reach to play the loveably sarcastic sister. But Brie Barker really struggled with his role as the father and as a result the audience was unable to connect to the relationship between the parents in the way they needed to in order to make this script successful. And that, I guess, is as good as any segway into what I see as the low-lights of theatre in 2008.
The lowlights:
- This is a Play: Evolution Theatre. Now, I admire the courage of these young upstarts - making a company, putting themselves out there. But the most uninteresting thing for me as audience member is to watch a group of artists tackle material that is completely beyond their capabilities and that was so the case with this show. If it is presented by students, and the object is to reach beyond the grasp as a learning experience, then fine. But these guys present their work as professional. I didn't see everything the company did in 2008, but if this show was any indication I really hope that in 2009 they seek some outside advice from professionals with a little more experience than what they have. I also hope they will start choosing their projects more carefully and work within their capabilities - I have no doubt these guys have talents but so far they are not working to their strengths.
- "The Triumph of Judith Shakespeare", Ottawa School of Speech and Drama. Bruce Bissonnette actually did a decent job of directing, but the material was weak (writing in rhyming couplets is an interesting challenge but in no way replaces the need for a compelling narrative) and the performances were uneven.
- "Without a Clue" Enigma and Garkin Productions: Cute, but only at first. Material mostly stolen from the movie "Clue", the talents of the performers in this show would be better served doing something else. 'Nuff said.
- "Look Back in Anger", Third Wall Theatre. I do actually look back in anger when I think about how my time was wasted by this show. Like much of what Third Wall produces, I find myself asking why. Why should I care about this particular script, at this particular time? The mandate of Third Wall has to do with engaging with the present through the classics. I cannot figure out how that applies to this show. This script belongs to a particular period in our history and I think a large part of my problem with it has to do with how women are written. And I can't figure out how this play helps me to engage with the present. Kevin Orr brought some modern staging to it - but that's not enough for me. Kristina Watt and Amanda Kellock both did okay jobs despite the limited characters written for them. I expected more from Richard Gelinas and Stewart Matthews. The design work by the impeccable Rebecca Miller and the amazing Sarah Waghorn at least gave me something to look at it.
So that's it. Another year over - and tonight I get to find out who we've chosen to recognize. On the whole, an amazing year for theatre. In 2009 I am looking for a deeper engagement between artist and audience (are you listening, GCTC?) and I hope that people will not only go out to see theatre, but they will talk about it, blog about it, share in the experience. Too often this becomes an insular process, and unfortunately tonight may be part of that. Professional artists creating work for other professional artists. But my wish, if I had one, for professional theatre in Ottawa is that it can grow to become a two-way relationship.
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