I haven't posted in a long time, but I'm doing so now even though I have a huge backlog of entries.

Why? Because you must, must see The Missoula Oblongata's The most mysterious day of the year. It's happening outside of the Fringe circuit at Galerie la Centrale for today and tomorrow only.

You have to go! It's mindblowingly good! There are rival detective agencies, boxing matches, a literate budgie, a man with an axe, two kaleidoscope parties, and éclairs for breakfast. I stepped out of their opening night with a mixture of glee and shock on my face. I grabbed a pile of leaflets and started handing them out to random strangers. Yes, it's that excellent!

The details

Tuesday 12 June 2007 at 20:00
Wednesday 13 June 2007 at 20:00
Galerie la Centrale
4296 boul. St-Laurent
12$

I ducked in to Montréal for another weekend of the St-Ambroise Montréal Fringe Festival. I was in town for a very brief period, but I did manage to catch four shows which I hope you were able to see. If you missed them, it's not too late to catch showings at the Toronto Fringe Festival.

Uncalled For 4: For Forever   (Schedule)   (Photograph)

I always look forward to the improv sketches that we see at the Fringe. And the Montréal improv groups are just phenominal. This is Uncalled For's fourth year of participation and you can plainly see that they're going places. Each time they come on stage, the show is different. For one night, they had a plethora of guest stars. And for another, they did an improvisational musical. They're very good at pacing, timing, and downright absurdity. What more could you ask for? 4/5.

Terrain de Jeux pour Marionnettes   (Schedule)   (Photograph)

Dominique Leroux unrolls herself from a parachute cocoon. It is white and she is dressed in black. From within the folds of cloth, she gracefully wakes her marionette and together they dance. The marionette grows up, explores the world, and then commits an unpardonable crime. The puppetry is so amazing that it looks like dancer and puppet are two completely separate beings. A very sexy show. 4/5.

Drumheller   (Schedule)   (Photograph)

In the small town of Drumheller, people go missing. Darcy Bruce and Leah Bowen create a cast of six, who are entangled in a rural world of dinosaur bones, made-up facts, and religious conversion. Both actors inhabit powerful and explosive characters, which is exciting to see on a small stage. And half of the characters die by the end. 3.5/5.

The Girl with No Hands   (Schedule)   (Photograph)

Talya Rubin returns to Montréal again for another stunning one-woman play. Her capacity to switch from character to character is subtle yet convincing. She retells the classic fairytale of the Girl with No Hands in a way that is as moving as it is enlightening. This is a must-see. 4.5/5.

Article written for Akachic Records.

When the weather gets warm and the sun beats down, Montréal becomes a hotbed of activity. People poke out of the shelter of their homes and rejoice in the streets. One of the surest signs of summer is the appearance of posters for the St-Ambroise Montréal Fringe Festival. The Fringe, if you're unfamiliar with it, is a vast collection of travelling shows that go from city to city. Each year, perfomers are drawn from a lottery and given slots in various cities that host the festival. In this way, shows that would otherwise be impractical to perform are able to play before an audience.

I spent this weekend packing in as much festival as I possibly could. I dashed between venues in an attempt to catch every moment. For your benefit, of course.

Evil is the New Good   (Schedule)

Nile Séguin is a young man with a frank face and a sincere smile. Toting his backpack on stage, his stand-up routine follows his inner monologue of waiting in line at an aeroport. Only he had a pocket full of cash in the meth capitol of California. Hilarity ensues. You should see this. 3.5/5.

The Wonders of the World: Recite   (Schedule)

It's Eugene's birthday which means he gets to do whatever he wants. It also means that cake will be served. Sadly, Eugene lives on a remote island with his grandmother, and they own no radio. So they are rather oblivious that everyone is imminently doomed. It's a very Fringe production in a very Fringe location, which makes it charming beyond belief. Plus they have some very interactive props.

I met up with the cast after their show. Donna, Melanie, and Leo are from Montana and they'd driven all the way up to perform at the festival. Along the way, they've done shows in Portland and Seattle. If you're in Edmonton when the Fringe happens there, you also have to catch their performance. If you're here, what are you waiting for? 4/5.

Pentacostal Wisconsin   (Schedule)   (Photograph)

Ryan Paulson grew up in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. It's a sleepy little place that centres its world around (a) cheese and (b) church. In this coming-of-age tale, Ryan weaves a story of his childhood and how he ended up in New York City, instead of at bible college. If you've ever sung in church, you'll have a good time whenever he picks up his guitar. Great show. 3.5/5.

Word Infirmia: the Criminal Perspectives Project   (Schedule)   (Photograph)

The United States of America has a prison population that numbers over two million inmates. Perri Yaniv has interviewed American prisoners and victims on criminality, experiences, and attitudes towards crime. It's really quite amazing to see him on stage as he re-enacts his interviews, documentary-style. When he turns around, or the lights change, his face and manners transform into those of another subject. Again, and again, and again. Powerfully recommended. 4/5.

My Little Rant   (Schedule)   (Photograph)

In the film based on his life, Stephen Pietrantoni has been turned down for the role of himself. He's not tall enough, handsome enough, sexy enough. Instead of wallowing in bitter disappointment, he goes on a search for identity that involves numerous costume changes and showtunes. Although I love singing to the classic musicals, I'm afraid that it's a vice best enjoyed in private. 3/5.

Jem Rolls Off the Tongue   (Schedule)   (Photograph)

Jem returns to Montréal after garnering rave reviews last year. He's a slam poet from Edinburgh who has a way with words that's passionate and playful. I've really never heard anyone with such wonderfully crisp enunciation. But don't think that his erudite diction is beyond your comprehension. You'll have a blast. 4.5/5.

This Fairytale is Not Working Out   (Schedule)   (Photograph)

Red, the little girl from the fairy tale, is having a nervous breakdown. Modern dance combined with American Sign Language tells a story with movement, both figuratively and literally. Seven dancers from inFluxdance take over the stage in a series of short, sweet vignettes.

I spoke with the choreographers, Rose Beauchamp and Alysia Woodruff, after the performance. Rose does Laban Movement Analysis and Alysia is fluent in sign language. So it was natural that someone versed in a language of movement, and another fluent in a moving language would collaborate. The end result is spectacular. 4/5.

Article written for Akachic Records.

I've been wanting to tell you about the week I've had since I returned to Montréal. It's been ever so busy, I just haven't had any time to sit down and relax. Soon, I hope, soon.

Last Thursday, I had the pleasure of seeing another play with dcoombs. Bye Bye Baby was such a terribly good show that I went downstairs afterwards, bought a copy of the script, and went around getting it signed. This was not a frequent occurance, I surmised, because the cast was awfully flattered.

Then on Saturday, I got to see an old friend whom I hadn't talked to for many years. As I do for all visitors, I let Montréal charm her with its charming streets and delectable food. Nobody has managed to resist my strategy yet.

Sunday was Museums Day which provided us with plenty of free entertainment. gorbash_dragon, kyotto, apenwarr, and I managed to get a lot of sightseeing done. I got a tan, and Avery got his annual sunburn. We ate some tasty food and then sat in various parks until the sun went down.

I went to the Fringe-for-all on Monday, which was spectacularly funny. I wish I remembered all the shows I wanted to go to, but I'm sure I'll just tag along with cpirate whose opinions are quite trustworthy.

On Tuesday, however, I regretted this outing, as I was struck down by a feverish humour. I spent all day hopped up on ibuprofin, laid upon my couch.

I'm a little better now. Yesterday, I went to Canonical's new office for the first time. It has promise, I think. But it needs some accessories. Like furniture.

Thursday evening involved another Centaur production. We went to see Cheech, a play set in the heart of Montréal. Actually, you wouldn't really know it's a Montréal play, aside from the hints of Ste-Catherine in the set and small details in the script. It really could have been set anywhere.

Cheech can be described as a study on depression, and how six Montrealers fail to deal with it in their own unique ways. It used a storytelling device not often seen in plays, that of a wandering clock. There was a digital clock, centre-stage, which would show you when a particular scene happened. Now, film and television use this far more effectively, because they can shoot the sequences in order and splice them together in post-production. But you need a really strong cast and an excellent set in order to convey jump-cuts in time and space.

This cast was brilliant! Andrew Shaver, playing Max, was absolutely stunning in his hold-up-the-store scene. Even the weakest characters were quite believable and since we were seeing this play near the end of its run, the actors were really comfortable in their second skins. Well, except for Lauren Spring who spent most of her stage time naked and covered in stage blood. I found my teeth chattering every time she showed up.

All in all, the production seemed to be more lighthearted and more lightweight than the subject would seem to indicate. A movie version just wrapped filming, so I'd like to see how that would compare. But it was a fairly enjoyable evening with some very powerful acting.

Last Thursday, I met up with dcoombs after work. We met up with France and we drove to Souvenirs de Bangkok. We had the most difficult time finding parking, but in the end, we prevailed.

We sat down in a table by the back, away from the howling winds buffeting the front door. We tucked into bowls of soup which were quite flavourful. But our meal of beef curry and satay chicken and noodles was not as exciting as it could have been. It was tasty and filling, but didn't have that explosive Thai flavour.

Once we had paid up, we drove to the Centaur where we took in Hellfire Pass. Normally, you'll find me enthusiastic about the show, but this one seemed a little weak. There was an understudy on stage, who faltered a bit on her lines. Although the rest of the cast was quite good, they struggled with the script. The play was paced strangely and too many conflicts seemed contrived.

Perhaps it works well as the introduction to a trilogy of plays. But it stands poorly alone.

Reflecting on this entry, I think I should have been disappointed with the evening. But no, the companionship of good friends made it excellent.

I have recently returned from a night on the town with dcoombs. Tonight was the second Centaur production of the season, and what a night. Cold, blowing snow that whistled around everywhere, as we walked down the streets of Chinatown. So we were quite glad to duck into a warm and bright restaurant for dinner.

I haven't been to Phở Bằng New York since they moved across the street to their new location. I remember them doing very brisk service to a very packed restaurant, so walking in the door was very shocking. The interior decoration was bright and very clean. They still sat people together at tables, but now there was space to walk between them. And the bathrooms were very, very clean.

Dave and I split an order of imperial rolls and I ordered a bowl of phở with all sorts of tasty bits inside it. The imperial rolls were a little on the greasy side and the nước chấm is just not as compelling as it could have been. The phở was fairly tasty with very fresh noodles and a generous portion of basil, but they skimped a bit on the meat. The saddest part was the soup base, which tasted mostly of cloves and little of chicken. It's not as good as Phở Lien, but good enough to go to if you're close to Chinatown. Plus, you can drown everything in sriracha, which makes things alright.

After dinner, we paid and waddled over to the theatre. We saw Real Estate which described itself as a romantic comedy. I always have very interesting conversations with Dave after a play, so I've always wanted to see a romantic comedy with him. To hear his thoughts on the matter, of course.

Since the play is a comedy, I expected fast and witty lines delivered with impeccable timing. This is exactly what we received and more! We received plenty of embarrasing behaviour by a particular actress, who executed it so very, very well. I was compelled to hide behind my coat in shame. As usual, even petty, silly plays like this are worthwhile because you see some very powerful emotions play out on stage.

Sadly, I forgot to ask Dave's opinion of the show; I really should do that later today.

As I mentioned before, I was organising the office trip to the Rocky Horror Picture Show on Halloween night. People were disappointed that there was no midnight showing, but I am not to blame for these sorts of things. Between picking a showing at midnight and a showing on Halloween, I had to prefer the one that was on the right day.

On Monday, I went around the office reminding people about the show. Some people had agreed to this plan, but forgot, so they scheduled something that overlapped. They tried to weasel out of this, but I kept notes as to who was coming and who I should remind. So our party shrunk a bit, but this wasn't too bad.

Jim showed up with a couple of tickets, one of which he sold to Stephen. So a small contingent of eight left for the theatre. It was held again at the Theatre Corona, where we saw it two years ago. Jim was down at the front of the balcony, dancing along with Jana. I was sitting next to Julie and Avery, on old folding seats.

This year, we arrived to see two lineups. One for "haves" and one for "have-nots". Since Adrian did not have a ticket, I think he waited a while in the "have-nots" line, but we didn't see him again until much later. We waited about, I handed out candy to random passer-bys, and we saw some Canonical people that Jeff had brought out. We saw Jana dressed up to perform as she was in the show this year, one of the compelling reasons that Jim came to town. Once inside, the group of us managed to get seats near the front of the balcony, even though we arrived quite late.

This was not very late, however, since the show took over an hour to start. By then, the crowd was getting rowdy and raucous: with chants of "Rocky" and general stomping resonating through the theatre. Every so often, someone would get on the stage to keep the audience occupied, but this was not particularly useful.

Then Plastik Patrik came on the stage and began the show. As usual, they started off with a little introduction, but this year they did not have a scandalous contest to start. Instead, Plastik launched right into the costume contest. There were the standard entries: an elabourate costume (a salmon), a scary costume (a guy in a mask), a very scary costume (a fat guy in gold underwear), slutty lesbians (who weren't slutty at all), and a BDSM-themed thing (the sub was not).

So it came down to the last man, who introduced himself as Doctor Livingstone. He wasn't even dressed up in a fancy costume or anything, so we all assumed that the salmon was going to win the show. It was a pretty impressive fish costume! But then, Livingstone called out for Jen to come down on stage, the spotlight swung over, and she started making her way down. At this point, I knew this man had to win. Jen went up on stage, hesitanttly; Livingstone got down on one knee and proposed. There was much screaming and cheering! And rice was thrown at the couple as she said "yes". It was really touching. You just can't beat proposing at the Rocky Horror Picture Show when there's an entire audience with bags of rice in hand.

The film was actually not very fun to watch because the Voice kept on interjecting too often and too loudly. But we all got to throw things at other people: I smacked Jim in the face, and he drenched me with water. Good times. After the show was over, Tarun looked a little shocked and I was afraid that we broke him. But we went outside and it seems like most of us had a good, if not strange, time.

Pierre and Susana left to go home, so the rest of us walked back to the co-op house, where Tarun and Stephen Hamer decided to retire. Shrugging this off, Jim, Philip, Will and I went to Dunn's to sup. That was rather tasty, although the "fat" smoked-meat sandwich is always a "medium". After stuffing ourselves, we decided to party ways and go home.

On Thursday, I went to the Centaur with dcoombs. This will be the third year that I take in the theatre, and so far I'm still as pleased as ever. In the beginning, Dave offered me free tickets, but now I've graduated to paying for my own.

They are totally worth it.

The Centaur is the English theatre, and this season they're running shows about Montréal. The first in this series is Condoville. Written by David Fennario, at the behest of Gordon McCall, this play is a sequel to Balconville.

This play follows the inhabitants of four flats, inside an apartment building that's run as a co-operative. The characters struggle against gentrification and the modern politic, eventually having to resort to a public protest to defend their rights. For people of the left-wing persuasion, this is a play for you.

The dialogue is written with a sharp pen and an ear for gags. The audience had a wonderful time laughing, though the material was quite dark. Two of the old cast members, from the previous play, returned to reprise their roles. In fact, they seemed quite pleased to do so. The acting was all very fine, and the set design was just gorgeous. Every time I go to the Centaur, I fall in love with their sets.

Condoville runs until 6 November, so I encourage you to see it if you can afford it. And pick up a subscription to the Centaur while you still can. Every play is always different, always thought-provoking, and always awesome.

Oh yes, I found this interview with Mr. Fennario on the Internet, for the National Post. My favourite part is, "tell your editors they're fucking assholes ... Everything that my play is against, your paper supports."

It looks like this year, I'm organising the NITI delegation to the Rocky Horror Picture Show. It's a movie and a show, and is playing at Théatre Corona. Other people are welcome to come, and I understand that a group from Canonical will be joining us.

For those who are unfamiliar with the RHPS, it's not for the prudish. So you might not enjoy this if you are easily upset by innuendo. Or by getting rained upon. You will enjoy this if you enjoy costumes, dancing, and silliness.

Jim will be our special guest that night, flying in from Mountain View, CA. I don't know why he's doing this, but he says he figures that Halloween is a good time to be in this city. (Seeing as San Francisco is so close to Mountain View, I'm not sure what this implies.)

We will be going to the Monday, 31 October 2005 show at 21:00. Yes, yes, I know, it's not midnight. For some strange reason, there is no midnight show on Halloween. I plan to show up, in queue, at around 20:15. Then we get to stand for about an hour with people dressed up in various shocking and amusing outfits. Some of them may give us candy, some of them may demand it.

Tickets cost about $20 at the door, so you may wish to pick them up sooner for cheaper. Cheap Thrills, on Metcalfe, is still selling them.

Pigeons and pizza
Originally uploaded by sfllaw.

Last night, I went down to Théâtre Ste-Catherine to see "The Fairies are Thirsty." Written by Montréal playwright Denise Boucher in the 1978, its original French title was "Les Fées ont Soif." An influential play in the Québec feminist movement, it gained publicity when it first showed, due to an attempted ban of its performance.

I had missed this play twice at the Montréal Fringe, so I was determined not to do so again. I showed up half an hour early to purchase a ticket, since the theatre does not sell advanced tickets. Then, I went across the street to a used music store and bought myself a CD. Returning to the theatre, I got a second-row seat in a mostly filled house.

The play started off quick shakily, but as the actresses warmed up their performances became quite powerful. The set was austere, with very few stage directions: three or four lighting changes and three brief audio tracks. But the passion that was put into the act was great, and at one point I felt my throat constricting.

Of the three actresses, Vanessa Matsul seemed to be the strongest. She had good projection and good expression. Gillian Ferrier seemed the most young, still fresh-faced, stunning, and cute. It is visually ironic that she was cast as the prostitute. As for Dalla Marom, her part was so stifling that I was unable to form any opinion at all.

All in all, I think I had a good time seeing this piece. And so did everyone else in room, judging by the thunderous applause. I would suggest you see it, but I seemed to have caught the final show. But since it is played by a Montréal troupe, it is possible that it will run again.

S.M.I.L.E. while you D.I.E.
Originally uploaded by sfllaw.

I woke up this morning at the Strathcona. "Why am I here," I asked myself. Then, morning amnesa resolved itself and I recall that I missed the last bus to Waterloo.

S.M.I.L.E. while you D.I.E. was great! It's got a plot that many can relate to and a very unique stage setup. Anyone in Toronto should definitely go see serendipity_wpg's show. They had a really good opening night with plenty of audience members, so everyone was all pleased.

After the show, I went with Rachelle and her stage manager, swyd_fringing. We tried to eat at Fresh, but that failed, so we settled for Sushi on Bloor. Then we walked around the city, which is a polite way of saying that I got lost and couldn't find the coach terminal. Eventually, I checked in to the Strathcona and got some sleep.

Now I'm sitting in the coach terminal waiting for my bus to Waterloo to arrive. I'll try to get some more shut-eye on the bus, because I'm sure that I'll have a lot to do today.

Today I went to the Fringe Box Office, which is just a small trailer like the ones they use in construction. Unlike the ones they use in construction, it had a small air-conditioner in it. The teller told me that it totally made the difference.

I walked up and bought a 10-show pass. Then I proceeded to get tickets for all ten slots, thereby committing myself to see all these things, instead of being all pokey and hanging out in my (now cool) flat.

I then went off to 3997 St-Laurent, where I successfully purchased a ticket to see Man 1, Bank 0. This was super-excellent: the guy (Kevin) was a great performer and he had great timing. The only drawback was his use of presentation software, but one can forgive him for that.

After the performance, I hung around and purchased a copy of his DVD. That's when I noticed Gordon McCall introducing himself and talking about whether Kevin would be in town in January. Wow, rubbing shoulders with artistic directors is great. Well, unless you're in a sweltering theatre, I guess.

Good news about this location: they've finally invested in some large electric fans, so at least it feels cooler sitting in the audience. I sweltered through two Friday night shows there, and they were fairly unbearable. But still, the performers are under hot lights, so they are drenched by the time they finish.

Now I'm going to see some musicians play and then see another show after that. I guess Montréal hasn't been wasted on me; it only took thirteen months.

Alarum clock radio
Originally uploaded by sfllaw.

Home life has been rather bizarre as of late. I have no television, no computer, and all of my books are still packed in their boxes. So for entertainment, I've been turning to radio.

Yes radio. I taped the antenna of my alarum clock to the window frame and turn on the radio. At first, I scanned the channel to see if I could find something interesting. There was talk radio, popular mass-produced music, and other dreck filling the sound waves. I quickly skipped over those and found myself listening to the McGill campus radio station.

CKUT (90.5 FM) is an ecclectic mix of hour-long student-run shows. This is usually pretty obvious by the rough and unpolished sound of their voices, and the eccentric lists of music that they play. Sometimes I'll tune in and if I like what I hear, then I'll stick to it. Other times, the programming will be offensive. Still, it's student-run so the next show might be completely different.

Another mainstay of my radio listening is CBC Radio One (88.5 FM). Since it is one of the last bastions of true radio programming, listening to CBC is actually useful. Not only is there current national and local news, but there are also in-depth reports, interviews, music recorded cross-country, book readings and radio dramas. I expect ringzero to scoff here and claim that the CBC is a pale imitation of the BBC, but we know he's just an imperialist.

The radio dramas make me think back to summer weekends in cottage country. Dad really likes to go fishing, so we'd commute to Rice Lake every weekend in the summer of my youth. Fishing, to me at the time, was phenominally boring. You'd sit around casting and reeling, over and over again, until your wrists hurt and you back ached. The sweltering sun would be too much, and I'd lie down in the middle of the boat under some makeshift shade. We had a radio onboard, so I'd flip through the channels one by one until I found something interesting. That's when I discovered that CBC played radio dramas. They were like television shows, only without the pictures. How novel!

Golden Age
Originally uploaded by sfllaw.

Which leads me to talk about last night's outing. I had heard on the radio that there was a show called "Golden Age", playing at the newly opened Théatre Ste-Catherine (264 Ste-Catherine E., Montréal, QC. 514-284-3939). I mentioned this to dcoombs at work and soon Dave, France and I had a date to see this show.

I arrived slightly late, due to an inability to read my watch, but I did catch what appeared to be the trappings of a variety show. I sat down to a young man, a poet, who was reading some very tight verse. Then came a rugged youth with his guitar, who played it quite well. And a timid redhead who sang softly as she strummed along. This part of the production seemed charmingly amateur, with the performers rearranging the microphones themselves. Then came a brief intermission.

An intermission where I found Dave and France; apologised profusely; and paid for the incredibly horrible boxed wine that Dave ordered. Why he wanted to drink it, I cannot fathom. We returned to our seats to the second half. Golden Age was set as a radio drama, a one-man show where the performer plays all the parts himself. Honestly, I was very impressed by the guy on stage, with his fantastic characterisation, and the colourful sixties flair he gave to his act. His crushed velvet jacket fit the bill and he talked into an old-school microphone which sat on an old wooden desk. If you closed your eyes, you could really hear the different people. He received an amazing amount of applause for a very small audience.

We only paid $7 each and I think I got my money's worth for entertainment. Isn't that the kind of thing that happens in this city? It's all dull and boring in the winter with nothing on, but come the warm weather and there's so much to do every night that it pains one to choose.

Last night, I went to the Centaur Theatre again. This time, wlach came with dcoombs and me to see Tales from Ovid by Ted Hughes.

It was presented by the National Theatre graduating class of 2004, and so you could see the youthful exuberance, the bounding pride that these young actors and actresses put into their work. They certainly breathed a lot of life into their art, which is something one has to do when one is still young.

The stage was sparsely done. Two black pillars rising from a black stage. People moved from backstage to front, drew along the walls with chalk, came up through trap doors, and stepped out of the pillars. Very versatile. And when props and lights wound down from the catwalks, I could not help but think deus ex machina.

The work starts off rather classically, but there are moments of hilarity and modernity sprinkled through the play. As if it were played in variation, to prove to us that the actors could act. Which they can.

The common thread that Coombs and I have found throughout the productions at the Centaur is that they are played in English, for most of the time. This play was of a very different style but still incredibly good. Lacking, however, was the sense of questioning premises that happens so very often. But I did not miss it much.

This is, of course, because Greco-Roman tales are always so filled with torture and lust and death. Their gods were very human and only slightly more powerful, so the full brutality of human flaws would be amplified. It was slightly disconcerting to see such young faces play such roles, though I could not tell you why.

Last night, I went out to a play with Coombs again. This time, Allison came along and she seemed to enjoy herself as well.

We saw The Goat, or Who is Sylvia?, a play by Edward Albee. It is about love, honesty, betrayal, shouting, smashing of pottery, and slaughter. Quite an intense and exhausting performance to watch, and I can't even imagine performing it.

The script was both funny and tragic. Definitely controversial material, with tons of dark humour thrown in. The set design at the Centaur has always been amazing, and this time the modern architect's surroundings were perfect for the script. There was, somewhat distractingly, a little bit of written wanking on the playwright's part. He throws in little meta-literary jokes, grammar nitpicks throughout, that throw you out of the gripping emotion that he works hard to build. Real people don't talk this way, but writers do as they chuckle to themselves. I know, because I've done this before. It's fun to put to paper, but this is what a judicious editor should cut out before it goes too far.

Both leads, Gordon McCall and Jennifer Morehouse were absolutely astonishing in their performances. McCall is the artistic/executive director of the Centaur, and his ability to act is amazing. And Morehouse kept up over an hour of basically non-stop fury. That takes a lot of stamina, something that I couldn't possible muster.

Once again, this play led to discussion about its content, and the moral questions that arise. So Allison, Coombs and I retreated to the Faubourg 24 hour coffee shop to sit and chat about the prickly issues that came up. Soon we were tired and all resolved to go home. All in all, quite an eventful night.

Who is Silvia? What is she,
That all our swains commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.

Last night, I had a wonderful time with dcoombs as we went out to see the theatre again. This time, we took in Burnt Piano, a moving play about a woman's pilgrimage to Samuel Beckett, in an attempt to find meaning in her life.

For those interested in a professional review, I'd like to point out ones done by the Montreal Mirror and the Hour. I am more interested in the meta-commentary, as I feel unqualified to comment on the plays themselves.

This particular play opened with a fairly weak first act, that got surprisingly strong after the intermission. During the intermission, Dave and I sat down with the programme, to figure out who people were. We noticed Mary Harvey, whom we've seen before in Tiger's Heart. Neither of us recognised her on stage. In Tiger's Heart she was incredibly thin and bony, with her hair cropped short—for good reason, as she was pretending to be male. But I think her ability as an actress also fooled us, for she was a substantially different person in Burnt Piano.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that all the actors were particularly strong in this play. Francis Xavier McCarthy, who plays Mary's character's father, has the old curmudgeon act down well. And both actors were surprising good at banter and delivery. Their on-stage quarrels were discomforting and alive. Frank Fontaine and Carolyn Hetherington, who played Mr. and Mrs. Beckett were incredible as an aged couple. You could almost feel the translucent love between them. Although I think the piano performances were played off a tape, Carolyn's "playing" sure looked very realistic. She even did that head thing pianists do.

Overall, I'm quite pleased with how the whole thing turned out. It was pretty nice to see Waiting for Godot done in this interesting interpretation. Dave and I left the theatre and rushed through the rain to get to the Metro station. I took him out to dinner at the Wok Café, a great little place that Julie showed me. After a good meal and a long conversation, we both hopped on the metro and headed home.

Oh yes. I had mentioned that Julie was interested in taking in the theatre as well, and Dave said he actually had three tickets. So she can come along as well, when she gets here in the winter. I can hardly wait.

Last night, Dave, Julie and I went to see Tiger's Heart, a play by Montréal playwright, Kit Brennan. We went to the Centaur Theatre Company, the largest English theatre in the city.

The play is a fictionalisation of the life of James Barry, a woman posing as a man so that she could study medicine. Reading the Wikipedia article show how much lenience Ms. Brennan took with her retelling, but we all agreed that it was well acted and well produced. However, we were skeptical that a woman would take such chances to be discovered when she had invested so much effort in becoming a physician.

Anyway, I quite enjoyed seeing it. This play, and the one I saw before, makes me want to subscribe to the theatre, seeing as there are six plays throughout the year.

Oh yes, here is the Montreal Mirror's review.