Dreaming & Scheming

Oh, it must almost be March because I am getting The Fever. The Spring Fever, that is. Right around this same time very year, I am bombarded by the overwhelming desire to fuck off to another world. Yes, I want to go traveling, but it’s more than that. I don’t just want to hop on a plane; I want to MOVE SOMEWHERE far, far away. I mean, my head starts filling up with all sorts of grandiose and—honestly—crazy ideas. I want to go to Brazil, Argentina, South Africa, Marrakesh, Ibiza, South East Asia, Prague, Krakow, Bora Bora, Majorca, Crete and South East Asia. And I want to spend extended periods of time in all of these places becoming a local, soaking up the culture and the language and whittling away my existence in some vague way making a difference.

But I want to keep my condo here and never run out of money. And if I could find a life partner while I’m at it, that would also be great. I pour over maps of the World and nearly eat myself up with desire and lust for all these wonderful far-off places. Sometimes I even go so far as to get onto a website to check out airfares. Then I see that it would cost me $4200 to fly to Johannesburg, I sigh, come back to reality and get on with the rest of my day.

I have seriously got to get a job at Air Canada or something.

August: What Revelation?

Written for the New West

Friday, February 15th saw the English language premiere of August, an Afternoon in the Country. Monique and André—recently engaged—spend an afternoon on the family farm to celebrate their engagement. With four generations present and the sweltering sun beating down, the audience is privy to the inside story of one family trying to hold it all together.

Very early on in the writing of this play, Jean Marc Dalpé chose to keep it simple. And that he did. This 80-minute play is cute and witty, but if you are expecting a side-splitting comedy with an ending that you don’t see coming, you may be out of luck. Unfortunately, the climax is not “shocking or unpredictable” and it doesn’t force the audience to “re-evaluate everything they’ve just seen,” as was billed.

What I did enjoy, however, was the play’s universally relatable themes. Who doesn’t or didn’t have a curmudgeonly old grandparent, a drama-queen younger sister, a doting mother, a hapless father? Who isn’t driven temporarily insane from time to time by their relatives? Who doesn’t find a family meal potentially excruciating?

Arielle Rombough, who plays feisty nineteen-year old Josée, was drawn to the script because of its sense of community and family struggles. It is her second production with ATP, but her first time being involved with playRites. She had a lot of fun with her character and liked trying to be the centre of attention.

Clearly, the scene-stealer was Joyce Doolittle, who plays ornery grandmother, Paulette. Whether she be torturing poor André with her sense of humour, lending an ear to Monique, listening to her music, smoking or dozing, there is always something to watch when she is on stage.

In fact, all the performances are solid. As in real life, there are often several simultaneous conversations going on, which definitely keeps the audience’s interest engaged; however this talented cast seemed to be underutilized. The plot is predictable and the shocking left field event never happens.

The crux of the play seems to appear during a conversation between Monique and Paulette, but it is left to dangle unresolved amidst the stifling heat. Later, during the play’s climax, you expect Monique to stand up for herself against her fiancé André, but alas, she doesn’t. The resolution seems elusive and unsatisfying. The audience isn’t given enough opportunity to make a connection with Louise, so no one cares about what happens to her in the end.

Vicki Stroich, a dramaturge with Alberta Theatre Projects, says that August embodies the spirit of the playRites Festival, which has always tried to encompass different voices from different parts of the country. She says that August contains “strong, mature storytelling with a great heart. It is also important because it provides an opportunity to introduce English audiences to French-Canadian Screenwriting.”

So make a night of it: take your sweetheart to the Laurier Lounge for a little steak-frites, order a bottle of wine from a vignoble in Quebec, see the play and be glad that you’re not with your entire extended family.

Bonhomme Sighting: Bigger than Loch Ness

Oh yes, folks. It is the long-awaited sighting. You may never watch a video more hysterical than this one. I have never been more earnest or excited about anything in my entire life. Watch my eyes. Laurel says I have "Christmas morning eyes." We have watched this video AT LEAST fifteen times already and can't stop laughing. You would think I was meeting a Presidential Candidate or Nelson Mandela or something. Nope. Bonhomme.

I mean, talk about unbridled enthusiasm.

Also, I may be mildly intoxicated.

The Quebec Stampede

The cold winter weather in Calgary has been getting me down lately. I decided I needed to be in a place where winter was celebrated, where being outside was encouraged. I needed a metropolis with a 17-day Festival celebrating snow sculptures, tobogganing, ice skating and general outdoor pursuits. Was there a city I could go where drinking outside was not only tolerated but in fact encouraged? Was there a place, pray tell, which had a jovial robust snowman as their mascot? Well it turns out that yes indeed, there was. Quebec City was calling my name.

I was ready to trade in my cowboy hat for a toque, my cowboy boots for Sorels and my Budweiser for some Caribou, a potently disgusting yet surprisingly addictive mixture of port and whisky. Well ok, I don’t own a pair of cowboy boots, but on Friday morning, I hopped on a plane to traverse the country. I was expecting an old-fashioned European experience: some warm butter croissants, red wine, maybe a beret or two. I was ready to experience a different culture: What I walked into was a pancake breakfast and 8 000 white cowboy hats. Had I gone to sleep in Quebec City and somehow been magically transported back to Calgary? Well, no. It turns out instead of coming to Carnaval, I had stumbled upon the Quebec Stampede.

Calgary and Quebec City are sister cities and the Stampede Board has sent a delegation of one hundred volunteers this year to celebrate Quebec’s 400th Anniversary. And nothing says ‘Congratulations’ better than a tin pan full of sausages. And as I’m finding out, Calgary’s motto is and perhaps always will be: “Go big or go home.” Any thoughts I had of a couple of guys in a booth handing out some pamphlets to promote Stampede were banished the minute we saw the two-hundred people standing in line waiting for their pancakes.

Did you know that there are actually people that have never even heard of Stampede? We have had several folks ask us “What is Stampede for, exactly?’ This is actually a really good question. Luckily my travelling companion was quick at the ready with an answer: “It’s a rodeo.” This is a good thing, because my answer would have been: “It’s for drinking.”

When asked what the advantages were for promoting Stampede in Quebec, Public Relations Manager Doug Fraser said, “We are not here to fill seats at Stampede; we are genuinely here to help Quebec celebrate their 400th Anniversary.” I may even have believed him if we hadn’t been standing directly in front of the Calgary Stampede 18-wheeler. No folks. No promotion going on here. Here’s your free cowboy hat.

So with country music blaring from the Hydro Quebec stage, I had my very first encounter with Stampede mascot Harry the Horse,


got my picture taken with the Stampede Queen and Princesses


and of course, I did what any self-respecting Calgarian would do when visiting Quebec City: I rode the mechanical bull.


So there I was, eight feet of snow, minus ten, with a cowboy hat and some snow pants, outside the walled gates of Vieux Quebec with a sea of white cowboy hats worn by people speaking French. The truth is, I have never felt like more of a Calgarian, nor have I ever been prouder to be one. It’s ironic that I had to come 4000 kilometres to Quebec City to appreciate Stampede.

Also available on the Calgary Herald Q

Who Knew the Best Canadian Plays Didn’t Happen on the Ice?

for The New West

Is the cold, dull weather getting you down? Have you been forced to stay home and watch reruns of Sue Thomas, F.B. Eye? Are you looking for something unique and entertaining to fill your time? If so, Alberta Theatre Projects’ Enbridge playRites festival, running February 6th to March 9th, may be the cure for your winter doldrums!

Now in its 22nd year, the playRites festival showcases five new Canadian plays every year.

“It nurtures, develops and produces original material,” says Adam Stephens of Alberta Theatre Projects, or ATP.

“It’s one of the chief reasons that Calgary is becoming known as a Mecca for contemporary performing arts in the nation.

“Basically, it is a showcasing of the greatest works yet to come,” says Stephens.

For playwrights, the festival has become a place to get noticed by representatives from theatre companies from all across Canada. As of 2008, 92 plays have premiered at the festival, 60 of which went on to be produced again elsewhere in Canada.

Among the new plays this year attracting some buzz is The Drowning Girls, by Edmonton-based playwrights Daniela Vlaskalic, Beth Graham and Charlie Tomlinson. Based on the true story of George Joseph Smith, who killed all three of his wives in bathtubs, The Drowning Girls is a dark comedy about trust, relationships, life, love and betrayal.

Vanessa Sabourin who plays Bessie, one of the drenched damsels, describes the play as adventurous, sassy, inquisitive and bold:

“It’s a haunting that comes to a resolution for the hauntees – it will pull you into the deep end.”

For all you men out there: banish the notion that stories told by women are for “chicks only!” These macabre maidens address universal themes to which yes, even a man can relate. And at the very least, hey: there are three naked chicks in a tub, right? Well, you’ll just have to go and find out now, won’t you?

Another play which promises to have tongues wagging is Jean Marc Dalpé’s August, an Afternoon in the Country. Set during a hot, muggy, Quebec afternoon in the summer, a family comes together to celebrate a wedding. With four generations present, the pleasantries melt away to reveal the tension and absurdity of one family “trying to hold it all together.”

While the play is described as well-written and hilarious, August promises to titillate with its finale. I’m sworn to secrecy, but it’s an event so shocking, it forces you to re-evaluate everything you’ve just seen.

The festival also includes favourites such as a 24-hour Playwriting Competition, Platform Plays—which are sneak previews of future Canadian hits that you get to see for FREE—and a myriad of other gems such as Pizza Night, Blitz Weekend and a musical in Calgary’s smallest theatre.

Plays, parties, discussion and schmoozing: doesn’t that beat reruns and appalling reality shows any day of the week?

I Hate Getting Ripped Off!

Also in the Calgary Herald Q

There is a disturbing trend in this city when eating out, and it is this: Increased prices, poorer quality of food. I don’t mind paying more for something if it equates to a better quality product, but lately things have been getting worse in our Calgary dining establishments.

Let’s examine People’s Exhibit Number 1: The Dairy Queen. Several months ago, I went in there and noticed they had jazzed up their menu board. It was bigger, brighter, glitzier and actually, a lot more confusing. I ordered a medium Blizzard. It came to six dollars and fifty-five cents. For a Blizzard. A little bit of ice cream and some cookie dust cost me six dollars and fifty-five cents. I was appalled. I asked them if their prices had gone up. They stared at me, blankly. Maybe they had to increase their prices to pay for their fancy new sign? I didn’t go back for quite a while, partly because I refuse to pay that much for a Blizzard and partly because it’s winter time. But I’m an addict and eventually--as was bound to happen--I went back. Remembering my previous experience, I shied away from the Blizzard and ordered a Pecan Mudslide. Can’t got wrong with that, right? Except that it was half the size that it used to be. I asked them if they had made it smaller. They stared at me blankly.

Last week, we went to one of my favourite establishments, 1410. It was wing night, so we ordered twenty and it cost us $4.00. That’s a pretty good deal. When we ordered, the bartender asked us if we wanted Ranch Dressing. I said, ‘Sure.” He neglected to tell us that the Ranch was extra and would cost .99 cents. And he brought us two! So the ranch dressing, which we didn’t really order and which we hardly even ate cost us half as much as all of the wings. When we went to pay, it turns out that they have no debit machine, but we were free to use their “bank machine” for a three dollar fee. This is on top of the $1.50 my bank would charge me for not using one of their ATMs. And no, I did not just crawl out form under a rock; I know this is not a new phenomenon, but usually those machines charge a dollar-fifty, two tops…but three?! C’mon. Now you are just nickel-and-diming me. And my four dollar wings end up costing me $10.50.

So tonight, I ordered a pizza. Trying to get a pizza in this city on a Saturday night is about as easy as getting Premier Stelmach to look cool. Not only did it take an hour-and-a-half to get here, but when it did, there were hardly any toppings on it and the pepperoni was torn into quarter-sections. What, we don’t even warrant full pieces of pepperoni any more? The mushrooms were so small and the bacon so sparse that it looked as if all I had ordered was a cheese pizza.

So, I know what you’re thinking: Maybe you should eat out less. Well yes, it’s true. But really, I don’t mind paying for something if the price equals the quality. What I really hate is getting tricked into paying for something I never wanted in the first place, or overcharged for an inferior product.

So I guess from now on, I’m going to stay home and crush Kit Kat bars onto my own ice cream, buy some extra pepperoni and carry around a bottle of Ranch in my oversized purse...

Brother.