Entries categorized as ‘theater’

Last chances

June 9, 2007 · 1 Comment

We at the Luminato Blog are starting to get a little sad. We know that the festival has fewer than 48 hours left to it, and we’re starting to get that “so long, farewell” song from The Sound of Music stuck in our heads.

But we don’t despair. We know there’s still plenty to do. But unlike Pulse Front and Speigeltent’ntavern, many of the Luminato shows are coming to an end this weekend.

Here’s a rundown of the ticketed shows it’s your last chance to see:

An Evening With Glenn Gould. Saturday at noon and 5:30 p.m.; Sunday at 1:30 p.m.

Vida! A Celebration of Life. Saturday at 2 p.m. and 8 p.m.; Sunday at 5 p.m.

Shen Wei Dance Arts. Saturday at 2 p.m. and 8 p.m.

The Walker Project: Better Living. Saturday at 4 p.m.; Sunday at 2:30 p.m.

The Walker Project: Escape from Happiness. Saturday at 8:30 p.m.

The Walker Project: Tough! Sunday at 1 p.m.

Back Home. Saturday at 7:15 p.m.; Sunday at 7:15 p.m.

Risk Everything. Saturday at 7:30 p.m.; Sunday at 4 p.m.

Constantinople. Saturday at 8 p.m.

The Passion of Winnie. Saturday at 8 p.m.

The Walker Project: Escape from Happiness. Saturday at 8:30 p.m.

The Walker Project: Tough! Sunday at 1 p.m.

Categories: art · dance · luminato · music · theater

Speigeltent’ntavern: Only Three Nights Left!

June 7, 2007 · 1 Comment


Photo by Dave Scott

Speigeltent’ntavern, Toronto’s little slice of early-Twentieth-Century pop culture, only has three nights to go. That may not sound alarming unless you know how fast the tent fills up every night.

Head to the Harbourfront Centre for acrobats, vaudeville performers, and burlesque shows:

Thursday, June 7: 7 p.m.
Friday, June 8: 8 p.m.
Saturday, June 9: NO SHOW!
Sunday, June 10: 7 p.m.

Categories: comedy · music · speigentent'ntavern · theater

From the journals of Rear Admiral Horatio Hammerbotham, Adventurer in Her Majesty’s Service

June 6, 2007 · 2 Comments

The following passage regarding Spiegeltent’ntavern was taken from the Rear Admiral’s journals, discovered in the possession of a thief in a Marrakesh opium den:

5 June, The Year of Our Lord Two Thousand Five and Twain

Not since my great-uncle Lord Thaddeus Hammerbotham, Royal Man of Science, created a mechanical-man composed of naught but a wax storefront-mannequin and an ape’s brain suspended in a mason-jar of men’s hair-pomade, have I seen such a pleasing sight as the gentleladies and comely house-boys of the Speigeltent’ntavern, a burlesque and circus attraction here in the City of To-ron-to, in Her Majesty’s Dominion of Canada.

Would but that I had eyes circling my head like a stone-crab or a house-fly, I would be able to take in the myriad of foreign wonders that surrounded me! Statuesque cigarette-girls strode through the night-time gas-light as it filtered through the stained-glass windows of the tavern, offering tobacco and confections. On the stage, a lovely young lass (named, I recall, Mina LaFleur — such a name!), removed garment after garment, revealing her be-tasselled bosom and a waist of a mere twenty-one inches. Later, an acrobat of the Greek Isles elicited gasps from an appreciative crowd as she suspended herself from the ceiling-beams with only a gossamer strip of silken-fabric as support. And the ale! Oh, how the ale did flow, like rivers in der Schwarzwald of the Empire of Germania!

I have taken a tramp steam-ship to the Orient and danced the Tarantella with the Queen of Siam. I have hunted the dodo and the marsupial-wolf on the veldt of Africa. I have been crowned King of the Hoboes while riding a locomotive across the plains of America. But never have I seen such a sight as this!

Speigeltent’ntavern runs nightly at the Harbourfront Centre until June 8, then again on June 10.

Categories: comedy · dance · harbourfront · music · speigentent'ntavern · theater

Holograms. Really.

June 4, 2007 · 5 Comments

There’s a moment at the beginning of Norman where performer Peter Trosztmer’s cell phone rings, and he answers it. It generates a titter from the audience, since it happens as he’s walking to the stage, and immediately after the public-address announcement directing patrons to silence their phones and open any unwrapped candy. Trosztmer answers the phone genially and asks the caller if he can talk later, as he’s about to begin performing in a stage play about the works of groundbreaking filmmaker Norman McLaren.

It isn’t until about a third of the way through the show that it becomes totally clear that the call was staged, its ringtone generated over the speaker system at the St. Lawrence Center for the Arts; over the course of the performance he takes about three more calls. That initial call, though, seemed so real — perhaps because of its unexpectedness, or the fidelity of the sound system. It’s not the first thing about the play that seems unusually real to the audience, despite its trick-up-the-sleeve nature

For instance: A bit later, the holograms start appearing.

That’s the only way to describe them. They start out as apparitions of McLaren’s contemporaries, discussing the nature of his work (“He’s both earthly and celestial,” one of them says, using words which could also describe this stage show). They sit on chairs next to Trosztmer, they appear as titanic three-quarter profiles bursting from the stage floor, they stand in conversation as if at a cocktail party. Later, they take the form of McLaren’s various animated film creations. But there’s no denying it: From the audience’s perspective, they’re holograms. Just like in science fiction.

Except they’re not. Probably they’re a trick of the light, a creative use of multiple projectors. But then, only one projector is visible. Multiple screens? No, Trosztmer is dancing all over the stage – he’d plow through any additional screens. So… how?

Michel Lemieux and Victor Pilon, the show’s creators, aren’t telling; at least one audience member had asked them during a roundtable discussion earlier in the day; they responded, she said, that a magician never gives up his tricks.

Holograms aside, the show itself is like McLaren’s fecund imagination brought into this world; Trosztmer dances with cats and floating tesseracts, opening a vault door only to be bowled over by men running at superhuman speed. As his floating and glowing contemporaries say, McLaren, over the course of his life, retained a more substantial portion of his childhood mind than the rest of us.

At the end of the show, the cell phone rings again, and Trosztmer takes the call. This we understand — a trick of the speakers. But the rest is left to our imagination.

Categories: art · normanmclaren · theater

DAILY FESTIVAL ALERT !

June 3, 2007 · Leave a Comment

Categories: art · comedy · leonardcohen · music · philipglass · theater

Eric Idle: The Messiah of Comedy?

June 2, 2007 · Leave a Comment

It wasn’t an everyday performance of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. You could tell because people were clapping along.

Eric Idle was there, so the orchestra was playing the “Liberty Bell March,” the John Philip Sousa military march that Idle and his Monty Python co-conspirators appropriated as their theme song. This was the world premier of “Not the Messiah,” Idle and co-writer John Du Prez’s follow-up to “Spamalot” – fortunately, though, the Roy Thomson hall wasn’t decked out in Broadway-style set dressing. The concert hall kept its everyday woodwind-meets-giant-xylophone décor, with no accoutrements. It’s the performance that made the place seem different (and, indeed, the audience, some of whom were in tuxedos and evening gowns, others in jeans and Reeboks).

“Not the Messiah” was an oratorio, complete with orchestra, choir and soloists (including one other “Spamalot” alum). But the show doesn’t start out that way – Idle encouraged Peter Oundjian – the orchestra’s conductor and, oddly enough, his cousin – to play three short classical pieces before the intermission. It’s an effort, Idle said later, to combine classical music with popular comedy, increasing its accessibility to those of us who attended hoping for jokes about rear admirals and transsexual lumberjacks. The challenge isn’t lost on him.

“How hard is it?” he asks at the Luminato opening gala, beverage in hand. “Well, we’re following Elgar and Beethoven. Not too (expletive deleted) hard.”

Not too expletive-deleted hard at all, despite Idle’s sarcasm. Following the basic plot of Python’s film “The Life of Brian,” “Not the Messiah” opens on a deceptively apocalyptic note. Soon enough, though, it evolves into what we all want – endless jokes about history and sex, religion and the psychology of idiots. Nor does the music itself disappoint; Peppered with sly references to the classical and the baroque, it slips from apocalyptic to doo-wop with no effort, delving into gospel, klezmer, and one song about the People’s Front of Judea that sounds like Ennio Morricone went on a weekend bender with Stephen Sondheim and consequently developed a ridiculous sense of self-parody.

And all of that happens before the tartan-clad bagpipers show up.

From there it’s nonstop: Lots of flamboyant flourishes and finishes. Monty Python’s “Lumberjack Song” re-visted. Christopher Sieber (who played Gallahad in Spamalot) sings the praises of crucifixion. And the most singularly odd impression of Bob Dylan ever attempted in a symphony hall.

At the end, there are curtain calls. Many curtain calls. When asked how many there were, Idle later said he’d lost count.

“Not the Messiah” is playing at the Roy Thomson Hall Saturday, June 2 and Monday, June 4.

Categories: comedy · ericidle · luminato · theater