Category Archives: Art, Theatre, & Film

Show’s Over; Go Home

Well, the show’s over. We all got together to strike the set yesterday, and I had more fun there connecting with people than I’d had through most of the run. It’s so painful to realize that the cast just hits its stride both on and off stage right around the time our two-week run comes to a close. We came close to selling out the house for the last week of the run (missed it only by a couple of seats each night), and the audiences loved it. A good show all around, in the end.

We had a terrific party after Saturday’s show, and I enjoyed myself quite a bit (to my utter surprise). We got there early, so we had a choice of seats. I firmly believe that sitting with Rob, Andee, Christina and Richard made our evening much more fun than it would have been had we arrived later than most (which is what we were expecting, having to drive back to NDG to wash up and change, then drive back to Dorval where the party was being held) and been relegated to whatever seats were left free.

And now… the glorious knowledge that my Tuesdays and Fridays are free once more until September! (And what have I done? Booked them up for the next couple of months teaching workshops at work. Sigh…)

Virtues

So I’ve picked up the latest issue of Alan Moore’s Promethea (number 19 for those who are following it), and wow. Wow not only for the lush Van Gogh artistic tribute, but for the portrayal of this particular stop along the storyline.

Okay, having some sort of background in occult studies made following Promethea’s trip through the Major Arcana possible, and I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around the journey through the sephiroth along the Tree of Life as it progresses. Then last month I read The Witches’ Qabala by Ellen Cannon Reed to prep myself for a lecture on the Qabala, and it was the proverbial shock of recognition — my brain encompassed it all for a moment, then lost it as I saw that I had understood. (Never make the mistake of remarking that you’ve succeeded at something, particularly grasping the truth of the universe.) I proceeded to devour the first third of Self-Initiation Into the Golden Dawn (for the info, not to actually — oh, never mind) and amused my husband by exclaiming frequently in happy discovery and wearing out a highlight and a half. Qabala is like the blueprint for the universe, or a filing system in which every aspect of the universe is organised. It’s nifty.

Anywhats, all this led to another flash of recognition when I opened Promethea #19 (“Fatherland”) which talks all about Chesed, the sphere of greatness, benevolent ruler gods (excellently illustrated in a double-page spread), and the vision of perfect love. Seeing how the Virtue of this sphere is Obedience, the leap at the end into the unknown is just perfect. The next sphere will be the second to last, that of Binah, understanding and intelligence, or form and restriction, but not in a negative sense; more like a container. Binah is the feminine principle to Chesed’s male principle; the passive/negative side to the universe. It will be interesting to see how Moore envisions it.

Interesting Fact

Interesting fact:

“It may be surprising to learn that the potato, a staple crop in many Celtic lands, does in fact come from a family of poisonous plants that includes henbane and deadly nightshade.” (pp.197, Celtic Folklore Cooking – Joanne Asala)

Well, you learn something new every day.

CURRENT READING:
The Eyre Affair, by Jasper Fforde. Working in the cynical and asinine world of publishers and booksellers, I’m not quite sure how this got published. I think the editor must have come across the manuscript, started reading, scratched his head a bit, tried to figure out if this book was (a) a mystery, (b) a comedy, (c) a science fiction novel, (d) a historical, (e) literary criticism, (f) all of the above, or (g) none of the above. Then he probably read a while longer, and at last leapt to his feet and jumped around a bit, then drew up a contract to publish this debut novel of brilliance which defies classification. I recommend it to everyone, especially starving English M.A.s (like yours truly) who will get all the jokes and laugh a lot. It helps, although it isn’t necessary, to be familiar with Francis Bacon, William Shakespeare, William Wordsworth, John Milton, the X-Files, the basics of temporal mechanics, and how a basic sense of humour functions. A knowledge of twentieth century history is actually a hindrance. If you like Connie Willis, you’ll enjoy Fforde too. (And if you don’t know if you like Connie Willis, go look up Passage, or The Doomsday Book, or any one of her numerous award-winning novellas and short stories. If you want the humourous taste of Fforde, though, check out Willis’ Bellwether or To Say Nothing of the Dog.)

Ever Onward

Fourth show down, two to go!

We were sold out last night, standing room only – and people were willing to pay for the standing room. We began fifteen minutes late as the Front of House crew were still trying to find seats for people at eight o’clock! As nice as it is to have a complete audience, it makes it difficult for the singers on stage: a full house soaks up sound, causing it to seem as if you aren’t projecting, as you cannot hear your voice bouncing back. As a result, all of our soprano soloists thought they weren’t pushing enough and had to keep reining themselves in from forcing their voices. Our first act ran 75 minutes long; usually we clock in at just under an hour. That may not sound like a lot to you, but when a well-rehearsed show can be clocked down to the minute, it’s an eternity!

I had an interesting conversation backstage last night with two young ladies who through circuitous conversational coincidences ended up wanting to know more about where I worked, and what witchcraft was all about. There were four other ladies listening covertly. Well, part of my personal mission is to educate, after all! The Pagan Poster Girl strikes again…

CURRENT READING:
Well, I’m book-less again, actually; I read Girl in Hyacinth Blue by Susan Vreeland last night, a lovely collection of thematic stories revolving around a painting by Vermeer. I intend to begin Jasper Fforde’s The Eyre Affair tonight. The subtitle describes it as “An Out-Of-This World Tornado of Adventure and Imagination Featuring the Feistiest Literary Detective Ever To Hit The Page”. Her name? Thursday Next. (I kid thee not.) It looks hilarious, and combines two of my favourite themes, time-travel and literary archaeology. After that’s done, I’ll finally read Perdido Street Station by China Mieville; borrowed it from a friend after she met him at the World Fantasy Convention here in Montreal last November. Updates as events warrant.

Bits

Just a quick note today; I’ve been up to my freshly-auburned head in stuff to do. Thank goodness the show’s over next week! I also learned at orchestra last night that there’s no rehearsal next Wednesday, as it’s March break and the high school we rehearse in will be closed. As much as I adore orchestra, it’s an attractive concept: every night off for one full week. Glorious!

I missed two weeks of orchestra due to one of my trademark migraines the first week and then the Vinyl Cafe show the next, so I haven’t touched my cello in three weeks. I’m rather proud of how well I did. I sight-read L’Arlesienne Suite by Bizet (ugh – mostly tenor clef) and Schubert’s Fourth Symphony, (“The Tragic” – in E flat again, sigh). I dreaded going while I was at work all day, but I enjoyed myself immensely when I got there. I have to keep reminding myself that I joined the chamber orchestra to make sure that I played at least once a week. I feel simultaneously impressed with how I keep up and ashamed of myself: if I can hold my own (barely, but I do) with little to no practice outside rehearsal, how good would I be if I practiced for at least an hour a day like I used to?

If I had my druthers, I’d read a lot, write a lot, and play my cello at least three hours a day. I’d also sit in the park. Now, if I could just get someone to pay me for doing all of that so my moggies could be kept in the style to which they have become accustomed (i.e., in kibble), I’d have it made!

Live Radio, Movies, and Theatre

The Vinyl Cafe show last night was terrific – not as good, in my opinion, as the one taped in NDG two years ago, but hey, it’s Stuart McLean – he’s always good. Listen two Saturdays from now (that would be, um, March 2nd) to hear the fabulous Montreal show broadcast on CBC Radio 2 at 10 am, and Sunday March 3rd at noon on CBC Radio 1. Stuart grew up in Montreal; why doesn’t he come back more often? This is only the second show he’s done here, in all the eight years he’s been hosting the Vinyl Cafe. He went to school with my dentist, I discovered a few years ago. The things you hear in a dentist’s chair! (Ah, it’s such a small island, after all…)

The news is in, and it ain’t good. The movie adaptation of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Alan Moore’s phenomenal graphic novel, is going ahead… and they’re ruining it. Check out The Last Comic Site’s rant on the topic and mourn with me, my friends.

The Canadian women’s Olympic curling team lost last night in the semi-final round to Great Britain. Now they’ll play for the bronze. Seems a pity when they’ve demonstrated that they’re obviously the strongest team in attendance. And how about the Canadian men’s hockey team? Way to pull up your socks, gents!

The Gondoliers is opening tonight – wish I was enjoying myself just a teensy bit more. I’m getting rather frustrated with the chorus’ apparent lack of dedication to the project. Ah well; the magic of theatre means the audience will never know. It’s a truly terrific show, and light years beyond what the society has pulled off before. Our new stage director, Corey Castle, is gods-sent, and I adore him. I just hope we haven’t frightened him off…

On VW Bugs And Cellos

Dwelling on the visual images Highly Amusing Fact #2 conjured up, I was reminded of my cousin who also plays the cello. In the past few years he has moved from Vancouver back home to Nova Scotia, west again to Vancouver, then to balmy Sioux Lookout in Northern Ontario, and thence to Toronto proper. Not only does he play the cello, he also drives a nice shiny deep cherry red Volkswagon Beetle — not one of the new ones, an original. He also owns a canoe.

You see where this is going, don’t you.

He drove across Canada. Now, a Beetle doesn’t have a lot of room to begin with, but when you’ve crammed it with all your personal possessions there is considerably less room. As most people do, he lashed that canoe to the top of the Beetle. (Yes, go ahead; pause and appreciate the humourous mental picture that sentence conjures up.) The only thing left was the cello. My cousin, being of innovative stock that thinks outside the box, picked it up, tucked it inside the canoe, and drove East.