So I was in Los Angeles, at a friend's dinner party and two of the guests are twins, former models, Carrie and Camilla... MORE. Direct descendents of Sir T. Daughters of musicals' writer Julian More (Irma la Douce, Expresso Bongo).
'More' synchronicity.
Hope you are well. Hoping to get down and see Woodsman this week.
Cheers,
Chris
Lee Aaron with Prism
Date: Saturday April 12, 2008
Doors open at 7:00pm
Shows start at 8:00pm
Ticket Price: $30.00 + GST
Summit Theatre Show Lounge
@ Cascades Casino
20393 Fraser Highway, Langley, BC
Tickets are available through Cascades Casino
Guest Services or by phone
604-530-2211
Lee Aaron is an award winning singer, songwriter and performer. Over the course of her career, she has been nominated for eight Juno Awards, won the CMPA Songwriters Award, a Much Music Video Award, three Toronto Music Awards, and an Ampex Golden Reel Award. In addition, she has graced the covers of an assortment of international magazines - TV Guide, Melody Maker and Sounds - to name three - and topped dozens of music-polls.
In response to numerous inquiries, Lee’s new 2008 show will feature material from her latest releases Beautiful Things and Slick Chick – and for the first time in nearly a decade - revisit her popular rock hits . A comprehensive and entertaining evening that showcases her versatility as an artist and performer, response from fans to this personal selection of songs has been overwhelmingly positive.
A local success story, Prism rose to international superstardom in the seventies and early eighties with classic FM rock tracks like “Armageddon”, “Spaceship Superstar” and “Young and Restless” earning them platinum records.
You might never know it from all the hatred being spewed in the name of God these days, but at its best, Christianity—like theatre—is about compassion. And compassion can be extremely difficult to muster. By producing Steven Fechter’s The Woodsman, Pacific Theatre, which is a Christian company, is asking us what it might be like to be a pedophile. Dirk van stralen plays Walter, a quiet guy who has served his time and is back in the community—but the only place he can find to rent is across from a school, and his demons won’t let him be. The show runs from April 4 to 26 at Pacific Theatre and there will be nightly talk-back sessions hosted by Circles of Support and Accountability, a community organization that claims to have reduced incidents of re-offending by 80 percent. Go to www.pacifictheatre.org/ for complete info.
| Rebecca deBoer and Dirk van Stralen Photo: Kevin Clark |
Editor's Choice: The Woodsman
Pacific Theatre, April 3-26
By Matt O'Grady
On July 29, 1994, Jesse Timmendequas—a previously convicted sex offender—lured seven-year-old Megan Kanka into his Hamilton Township, New Jersey, home to see his puppy. He then raped and beat her, strangling her to death with his belt. After Timmendequas was charged, Megan’s parents started campaigning for a law requiring neighbours to be notified when a convicted pedophile moves into their community. By 1996, “Megan’s Law” was in force across the United States.
New York playwright Steven Fechter was, like many people, captivated by the case—and by a question: Can a pedophile find redemption? “It was very black-and-white,” Fechter says of the media coverage surrounding Megan’s Law." “The men were depicted as monsters. I thought it would be interesting to write a play about one of these men who serves his term and returns to society, and the huge obstacles facing him.” In The Woodsman, which debuted off-Broadway in 2000 (and makes its Canadian debut here), the story centres on Walter, a child molester released from prison after 12 years, and his struggles to reintegrate into society, to rebuild ties with friends and family, to pursue a normal sexual relationship, and, most of all, to live with himself.
The play—part of Pacific Theatre’s series of film-related dramas—was turned into a 2004 movie starring Kevin Bacon and, in keeping with Pacific’s long-standing examination of Christian values, provides no easy answers or morals. “For an audience of the film or play, they’re particularly challenged because they’re given a man who seems, in all respects, rather decent,” says Fechter, “except that he has, in his past, done this really horrible thing. The question is, Does every person deserve a second chance? How forgiving, as a society, are we? And are there some things that are ultimately unforgivable?” 604-731-5518. Pacifictheatre.org
Greetings,
I thought I would send you an invitation to our upcoming Integrative Projects in Art and Theology presentation by students at Regent College in pursuit of an MCS.
Monday April 14th
Corrigan Clay presents I Am Your Father: An Autobiographical Documentary Film by Corrigan Clay
7:30pm Regent College Chapel
Monday, April 21st
Murray Stiller presents: Nailin’ it to the Church: Religious Satire and the Gospel According the Wittenburg Door
A documentary film
7:30pm Regent College Chapel
Wednesday, April 23rd
Ali Cumming presents Flotsam Blues: an original screenplay based on the works of Søren Kierkegaard
A live reading
7:30pm Regent College Chapel
We also welcome you to the next opening reception in the Lookout Gallery featuring the work of
Lynne McIlvride Evans
Constructions and Paintings
Opening reception: Wednesday, April 9, 4:30 – 7:30pm
April 9—May 2, 2008
We look forward to seeing you at these events!
Duffy Lott Gibb
Arts • Summer School • Events
Regent College
http://www.regent-college.edu/
604-224-3245
Walter, played by Dirk van stralen
Nikki, played by Rebecca deBoer
Rosen, played by Michael Kopsa
Robin, played by Camille Beaudoin
Poetry event: change of venue!
Greetings everyone,
On Saturday I received a call (several actually) advising me that Saffron Fourth Avenue closed unexpectedly last week. Our event will now be at The Wired Monk which is located two blocks away at Fourth Avenue and Trafalgar. Please note the time change and the new flyer attached. Erica Mah, a young and very talented musician/singer/songwriter, will begin her set at 9 instead of 8 pm to accommodate us. So it's folk/funky music following the readings instead of jazz in between. The Wired Monk serves wine and beer and food. Check out their website at www.kitsmonk.com At this late date, I'm very grateful to The Wired Monk for accommodating us. It will be a fabulous event so please spread the word!
Judith
*
SOUNDS OF CONTEMPLATION
Join us for a café-style evening of music and poetry with poets Br. Paul Quenon, Susan McCaslin, Doug Beardsley and Sheila Rosen. Minimum donation: $5.
This is a Thomas Merton Society event. It should be an interesting evening. McCaslin, Beardsley and Rosen are BC poets. Brother Paul Quenon has been a monk for 50 years, and received his formation under Thomas Merton. He has published three collections of poems, Monkswear, Laughter My Purgatory, and Terrors of Paradise, and a CD of poetry Hooded Sentinels. He is cantor, cook, and photographer for his monastery, the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky.
Imagine you are a Christian living in the first century AD, some decades after Christ. Then a scroll shows up called "the Gospel of Christ". Then another and another, at least 4 of them over a period of many years which get read regularly. They're similar but not identical and in some places contradictory!
Now imagine you can get these 4 writers together in one room to see if they can sort out their differences. Can they come to some sort of agreement about which emphasis to follow? What is meant literally and what is symbolic? And can they stem the tides of conflict already growing amongst them?
Now imagine that I am one of the authors of the Gospel according to John.
If this sounds like an argument you'd like to hear. Come hear a staged reading of "5 Sides of a Circle" at St. Paul's Anglican Church (on Jervis 1/2 block north of Davie) this Wednesday at 8:00. Admission is free, the pews are wooden and sit near the front since we won't be miked and the acoustics are designed for choirs.
Hi Ron,
I wanted to let you know that David and I really enjoyed A Man for All Seasons when we went two Saturdays ago. It was our first night out together since Caspian was born and we were thrilled by the performance. What a great script! I loved the era-change for the costumes and thought the whole production was excellent.
It was a bit of a stretch to see a tall, thin man play Henry VIII, but he pulled it off, and his Cromwell was just creepy! The guy who played the butler/jailer etc. was a delight to watch. And your performance of Thomas was moving and poignant. It was exciting, as always, to see the familiar PT faces of Adam, Evangela, and Trish. Each character was convincing and captivating.
What a heartbreaking scene that was when Thomas had to make his friend dislike him by telling him what he really thought of his capitulation to the king... I've been recommending this play to everyone I know and I hope it does very well for Pacific Theatre. What a challenge to us all, as we try to justify our compromises.
Thanks for putting this show on, and thanks for blessing us with your work.
Geneviève (and David) Miedema
Yes, we were misting up in the north front row Friday night. My parents agreed it was one of the most outstanding performances to date. Not that you are intentionally competing with what London and NYC offer us. Bravo! Exemplary acting! Yes, don’t let so much time pass again. The reading of “Twelve Angry Men”, provided an inkling of what can be when directors remember where they began. Could be like when physicians become patients once in awhile. (Clearly autobiographical)
Theatre provides the extraordinary gift of engaging me completely; intermission being an uninvited dream-state. Reminds me of a comment made recently by NBC (Newfie by choice) philosopher Daryl Pullman. “We don’t just take a patient’s history, we are privileged to enter into their story.”
Profound fallout…..
In the early 80’s I had written in my journal Sir T.M’s quote about a vow being like holding water in your cupped hands. I claim that image to have inspired me against all odds now beyond the 25 year mark…
Thanks so very much for a wonderful night at Man for all Seasons- We were 'wowed' by the performances and the ability of the stage to bring story into an intimate and engaging experience for us. We talked all the way home about the density and intensity of the dialogue and it's delivery- so very powerful! Now I want to get the play to read! Do you ever tape performances?
Kudos to Ron- you must be exhausted- you put so much into your character- I could so clearly see Sir Thomas More's physical deterioration juxtaposed to the increasing determination of the will matched with wit to stand as a congruent servant of God.- Wonderful! thanks to everyone for giving it their all- Ok I'll write your next review- Blessings to you all, and thanks again it was a great diversion to our up-hill climb right now.
Hi everyone,
A quick plug for my next show, "Steel Kiss," inspired by the fatal beating of a gay man by a group of highschool students.
It is one hour long, and it runs Feb.14-24 at the Waterfront Theatre on Granville Island. There is content warning for those under the age of 16.
For info about the show: www.greenthumb.bc.ca
For tickets: http://www.ticketstonight.ca/ticketstonight/event.details.php?id=1229
Me and the rest of the guys are amped up as heck about this show...
Thanks!
-Kyle
Hi Ron,
...this is an anniversary, and I just want to say thanks again for bringing us together last January. For me, for many of us, I think, it was a profoundly wonderful time. Your generosity and the hard work of your staff at Pacific Theatre was heroic. I have gone on to revise the script I heard read there and will be listening to the next draft read by the Gordon College Theatre department next week. I think the script is almost finished. For me the time in Vancouver was transformational, and I suspect it was for other playwrights, too. I hope we can figure out a way to get together again. But whatever happens about that, last year's gathering drew us together and provided real, practical help for many of us, and I remain enormously grateful to you.
Wishing you all good things,
Jeanne
Hello friends,
Just a reminder that the next "Music at Pacific" concert is this coming Sunday, February 17, at 3:00 pm. The Pacific Rim String Quartet will perform Haydn’s “Emperor” Quartet, Arvo Pärt’s Summa, and Shostakovich’s powerful and moving Quartet No. 8. The intimate 124-seat Pacific Theatre, located at West 12th Avenue and Hemlock, is perfect for experiencing chamber music.
Tickets are available at 604-731-5518 or www.pacifictheatre.org. For more information go to www.pacificrimstringquartet.com. Only 21 seats were vacant at the last concert, so order your tickets soon!
Hope to see you there,
Brian.
The Empty Spaces
Or, How Theater Failed America
by Mike Daisey
The Stranger (Seattle), Feb 5, 2008
Seven years ago, I left Seattle for New York—I abandoned the garage theaters and local arts scene and friends and colleagues—because I was a coward. I'd already tried to sell out once, by working at a shitty Wal-Mart of a tech company, but I knew I would not survive in the theater if I stayed. I fled to New York to bite and claw a living out of the American theater as an independent artist because I was young and stupid enough to think that would actually work. Today, my wife and I are one of a handful of working companies who create original work in theaters across the country. We're a very small ensemble: I am the monologuist; she is the director. We survive because we're nimble, we break rules, and when simple dumb luck happens upon us, we're ready for it.
We return to Seattle maybe once a year. During my first week back this time, I ended up at a friend's party, long after the rest of the guests had gone, in that golden hour when the place is almost cleaned up, but the energy of the night is still hanging in the air. We settled down in the kitchen under the bright light, making 4:00 a.m. conversation and, as all theater artists do, I asked the traditional question: "What are you working on?"
My friend's face fell, for just a moment—she's a fantastic actress, one of the best in the city, with an intelligence and precision that has taken my breath away for years. She corrected a moment later, and told me carefully that she wasn't going out for anything now—that she was giving it up. She has a job-share position at her day job to let her take roles when needed, but now she is going to go permanent for the first time in her entire life. After 15 years of working in theaters all over Seattle, she'd felt the fire go out of her from the relentless grind of two full-time jobs: one during the day in a cubicle, the other at night on a stage.
She said what really finished it for her was getting cast in a big Equity show this fall and seeing how the other Equity actors lived—the man whose work had inspired her all her life, living in a dilapidated hovel he was lucky to afford; the woman who couldn't spare 10 dollars to eat lunch with colleagues without doing some quick math on a scrap of paper to check her weekly budget. These are the success stories, the very best actors in the Northwest, the ones you've seen onstage time and time again. Their reward is years of being paid as close to nothing as possible in a career with no job security whatsoever, performing for overwhelmingly wealthy audiences whose rounding errors exceed the weekly pittance that trickles down to them.
My friend looked at me imploringly—she's close to 40, at the height of her powers, but the sacrifices of this theater ask for raw youth: When she arrived in Seattle, she'd eat white rice flavored with soy sauce for lunch for a month at a time. "Maybe if I was 23 again," she said. "Maybe not even then." She looked down at the table as she said this, and I felt a kind of death in the room.
The institutions that form the backbone of Seattle theater—Seattle Rep, Intiman, ACT—are regional theaters. The movement that gave birth to them tried to establish theaters around the country to house repertory companies of artists, giving them job security, an honorable wage, and health insurance. In return, the theaters would receive the continuity of their work year after year—the building blocks of community. The regional theater movement tried to create great work and make a vibrant American theater tradition flourish.
That dream is dead. The theaters endure, but the repertory companies they stood for have been long disbanded. When regional theaters need artists today, they outsource: They ship the actors, designers, and directors in from New York and slam them together to make the show. To use a sports analogy, theaters have gone from a local league with players you knew intimately to a different lineup for every game, made of players you'll never see again, coached by a stranger, on a field you have no connection to.
Not everyone lost out with the removal of artists from the premises. Arts administrators flourished as the increasingly complex corporate infrastructure grew. Literary departments have blossomed over the last few decades, despite massive declines in the production of new work. Marketing and fundraising departments in regional theaters have grown hugely, replacing the artists who once worked there, raising millions of dollars from audiences that are growing smaller, older, and wealthier. It's not such a bad time to start a career in the theater, provided you don't want to actually make any theater.
The biggest reason the artists were removed was because it was best for the institution. I often have to remind myself that "institution" is a nice word for "nonprofit corporation," and the primary goal of any corporation is to grow. The best way to grow a nonprofit corporation is to raise money, use the money to market for more donors, and to build bigger and bigger buildings and fill them with more staff.
Using this lens, it all makes sense. The worst way to let the corporation of the theater grow is to spend too much on actors—why do that, when they're a dime a dozen? Certainly it isn't cost-effective to keep them in the community. Use them and discard them. Better to invest in another "educational" youth program, mashing up Shakespeare until it is a thin, lifeless paste that any reasonable person would reject as disgusting, but garners more grant money.
Every time a regional theater produces Nickel and Dimed, the play based on Barbara Ehrenreich's book about the working poor in America, I keep hoping the irony will reach up and bitch-slap the staff members as they put actors, the working poor they're directly responsible for creating, in an agitprop shuck-and-jive dance about that very problem. I keep hoping it will pierce their mantle of smug invulnerability and their specious whining about how television, iPods, Reagan, the NEA, short attention spans, the folly of youth, and a million other things have destroyed American theater.
The numbers are grim—the audiences are dying off all over the country. I know because every night I'm onstage, I stare out into the dark and can hear the oxygen tanks hissing. When I was 25, the Seattle Rep started offering cheap tickets to everyone under 25. When I turned 30, theaters started offering cheap tickets to everyone under 30. Now that I've turned 35, I see the same thing happening again, as theaters do the math and realize that no one under 35 is coming to their shows—it's a bright line, the terminator between day and night, advancing inexorably upward. A theater I'm working at this year is hosting a promotional event to coax "young people" to see our show. Their definition of young? Under 45.
There are clear steps theaters could take. For example, they could radically reduce ticket prices across the board. Most regional theaters make less than half of their budget from ticket sales—they have the power to make all their tickets 15 or 20 dollars if they were willing to cut staff and transition through a tight season. It would not be easy, but it is absolutely possible. Of course, that would also require making theater less of a "luxury" item—which raises secret fears that the oldest, whitest, richest donors will stop supporting the theater once the uncouth lower classes with less money and manners start coming through the door. These people might even demand different kinds of plays, which would be annoying and troublesome. The current audience, while small and shrinking, demands almost nothing—they're practically comatose, which makes them docile and easy to handle.
Better to revive another August Wilson play and claim to be speaking about race right now. Better to do whatever was off Broadway 18 months ago and pretend that it's relevant to this community at this time. Better to talk and wish for change, but when the rubber hits the road, sit on your hands and think about the security of your office, the pleasure of a small, constant paycheck, the relief of being cared for if you get sick: the things you will lose if you stop working at this corporation.
The truth is, the people in charge like things the way they are—they've made them that way, after all. Sure, they wish things could be better. Who doesn't? They're dyed-in-the-wool liberals, each and every one of them, and they'll tell you so while they mount another Bertolt Brecht play. The revolutionary fire that drew them to the theater has to fight through so much shit, day after day, that even the best of them can barely imagine a different path. They didn't enter the theater to work for a corporation, but now they do, and they more than anyone else know the dire state of things. I've gone drinking with the artistic directors of the biggest theaters in the country and listened to them explain that they know the system is broken and they feel trapped within it, beholden to board members they've made devil's deals with, shackled to the ship as it goes down. I've heard their laughter, heard them call each other dinosaurs, heard them give thanks that they'll be retired in 10 years.
Corporations make shitty theater. This is because theater, the ineffable part of the experience that comes in rare and random bursts, is not a commodity, and corporations suck at understanding the noncommodifiable. Corporations don't understand theater. Only people, real people, understand theater. Audiences, technicians, actors, playwrights, costumers, designers—all of them give their time and energy to this thing for a reason, and that dream is not quantifiable on any spreadsheet.
As I drove home from my friend's house that night, I felt myself filling up with grief. There will be some who read this who will blame her, think she should have sacrificed more, that this is a story of weakness. But I stand by her. I know in my heart she has given full weight, just as so many other artists have given over the years. Much of the best theater of my life I have seen in the garages of Seattle, unseen and forgotten by many. But I remember. Theater failed my friend, as it is failing us all, and I am heartbroken because we will never know the measure of what we've lost.
Mike Daisey is a monologuist, author, and working artist.
