collider.com

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the theatres, screaming teenagers have come back for the latest supernatural romance thriller. While Catherine Hardwicke’s Red Riding Hood is innovative in that it’s a far cry from the bedtime story you remember from your childhood, the film still falls drastically short of its concept.  

It’s hard to reconcile Hardwicke’s first critically acclaimed film, Thirteen, with her take on Red Riding Hood: it’s Twilight with a better standing cast. This red-hooded protagonist, Valerie, played by the doe-eyed Amanda Seyfried, is romantic and rebellious. She is torn between two hunks, Henry (Max Irons) and Peter (Shiloh Fernandez), one of whom may be a werewolf. Does this sound vaguely familiar? It should; Hardwick was, after all, the first to direct the Twilight films.  

Although Valerie is in love with Peter, a poor woodsman, her parents have arranged for her to be married to the wealthier blacksmith, Henry. When Valerie’s sister is killed by a wolf, however, her plan to run away with Peter has to be put on hold, After the men of the town fail to find the murderous wolf, they call on the town priest, Father Solomon (Gary Oldman), to help solve the furry problem. He reveals that the town is haunted not by a mere wolf, but by a werewolf, who takes human shape in the absence of the full moon and lives among them. But who is the big, bad wolf?  

Despite the grown-up makeover of this children fairytale, the film fails to enable the audience to invest in the characters. Seyfried’s Valerie seems more like a Goldilocks who stole Little Red Riding Hood’s cape. As Peter, Fernandez is supposed to be the brooding, reclusive rebel, but acts more like one of Robin Hood’s merry men in tights strolling around town. Acting giants Gary Oldman and Julie Christie are unable to execute their trademark performances, which fizzle underneath their over- the-top-characters as Father Solomon and Grandmother, respectively.  

The romance itself is a superficial plotline that barely scratches the surface, as the seemingly tension-filled love triangle quickly dissolves and transforms into a whodunit mystery.  

The problem with the film is that Hardwicke tries to do too much at once, setting up the film as the stage for a fairytale orgy. For example, during the town’s celebration, the villagers act out a scene from the story of The Three Little Pigs. There’s even a reference to the rabbit’s fur being “snow white.” At one point, Hardwicke starts to mix fairytale elements with religious zeal, at point going as far as to mimic the Salem Witch trials.

Regardless of the wannabe-Twilight characters and narrative, the cinematography was quite beautiful at times. And to be fair, Hardwicke was right to develop Red Riding Hood as a film about sexual awakening rather than simply a girl who tries to visit her ailing grandmother. But she unsuccessfully executes her ideas and in the end, all we got was a mess.

heyuguys.co.uk

Set primarily in the Western United States, Paul is the fish-out-of-water story of Graeme (Simon Pegg) and Clive (Nick Frost), two nerdy British vacationers who embark on a road trip across the West. When they pull over in their RV on a long stretch of desert highway, they come into contact with an alien (voiced by Seth Rogen) who calls himself Paul. Apart from your typical short, green, bug-eyed alien look, Paul is completely different from the average alien. He speaks English, he knows more about pop culture than the average human, and he’s obnoxiously affrontive. How he came to be this way isn’t explained, but the film does vaguely describe the shady business relationship that Paul once had with the American government. Through other unexplained circumstances, Paul has been evading capture by the USA for some time now, but it’s just a matter of time before the government closes in on his location. Thus begins the story that is part buddy road-trip and part science fiction comedy. The characters’ dimwittedness is hilarious and carries the movie.

In this film, directed by Greg Motolla, recurring gags make up the bulk of the comedy. Graeme and Clive’s mutual excitement for comic books is frequently misinterpreted as proof that the two are gay lovers. Furthermore, Paul’s influence over Ruth Buggs (Kristen Wiig), a caricature of the stubborn Bible Belt Christian fundamentalist, causes her to embrace what she thinks is the lifestyle of the modern twenty-something. She attempts to be hip by drinking, smoking, and unexpectedly swearing during awkward social situations. And of course there’s the cliche slapstick comedy in which everybody’s reaction to seeing an alien is to fall straight backward in a state of shock. These gags might not be sophisticated, but they are amusing for a little while. But the laughs get quieter as these jokes systematically repeat themselves over and over.

The movie is decent and the requisite humour is all there. Some moments are outrageous and unexpected, while other scenes are passable scenarios that border on conventional comedy shtick. The road trip/chase plot is similar to that of Dumb and Dumber, which also builds its story entirely upon the naivete of its characters. But in Paul, there’s a lot of humour that comes from simply repeating certain jokes and situations rather than using an arsenal of clever comedic material. This movie doesn’t have the same British humour angle that Pegg and Frost showed in Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead, but their take on alien stereotypes is original and worth checking out.

Lisa Graves and Elizabeth Delage / Studio 303

Lisa Graves and Elizabeth Delage / Studio 303

This year’s Edgy Women Festival, a multinational, visual celebration of females and femininity, will showcase the work of a variety of different artists from Japan, Germany, Canada, and the United States. Taking place in venues across Montreal, the festival promises to be as unique and thought-provoking as it has been in prior years.

Since 1994, the goal of the Edgy Women Festival has been to provide audiences with alternative views and voices on issues concerning women, which range from gender and power dynamics to love and loss. This differentiation from traditional mainstream viewpoints has influenced the type of performances chosen and has subsequently made for an interesting itinerary for the upcoming festival.

“I hope that the programming helps dispel negative preconceptions some people have about feminism—that it’s stale, dated, not fun,” says Miriam Ginestier, the festival’s artistic director. “At Edgy, I like to mix politics and frivolity, high and low art, emerging and established artists—pushing artists and audiences alike a little past their comfort zones.”

A perfect example of Ginestier’s approach to the festival a performative lecture by Annie Sprinkle (a porn star and performance artist) and Elizabeth Stephens, founder of SexEcology which is both provocative and challenging with its emphasis on “SexEcology.” Retelling their experiences of artificial insemination and breast cancer and explaining their love for the Earth, Sprinkle and Stephens, founder of SexEcology, are sure to be the highlight of the festival with their “Adventures of the Love Art Lab” at La Sala Rossa.  

“We’re hoping to make the environmental movement more sexy, fun, and diverse,” says Sprinkle. “By switching the metaphor from ‘Earth as mother’ to ‘Earth as lover,’ we want more people to come out as ‘ecosexual.’ We’re creating a new sexual identity that is really satisfying and exciting.”

“Our message of messages is that love is a very powerful weapon against cynicism, adds Stephens. “It is a compelling reason to fight to change the things that are important to us. At this time the most important thing to Annie and me is the health and welfare of our lover, the Earth.”

Although Sprinkle and Stephens’s performance relies on transmitting their unique message through words, Ginestier tries hard to offer different performances due to Quebec’s bilingual nature. Focusing on non-verbal or bilingual acts, the festival shows the breadth of its approach to the feminist culture. Slippery, for example, an act of 40 performers with backgrounds in roller derby and hockey, seeks to play on the stereotypes surrounding the over-sexualized female self as it simultaneously points out the ridiculous nature of the sports.

“The audience should be ready to experience an intriguing public intervention of performance art, experimental dance, skating practice, and competitive conceptual thinking,” says Christopher DiRaddo, the festival’s public relations director.

With Sprinkle’s and Stephens’s enthusiasm about their own project and with Ginestier’s commitment to quality, the Edgy Women Festival looks to be exactly what the organizers and the performers are expecting: fun, provocative, and most importantly, edgy.

The 2011 Edgy Women Festival takes place from March 19 to April 2 at various theatres. Visit edgywomen.ca for details.

The world has witnessed massive destruction and upheaval over the past few months, but still more apparently captivating to the public imagination is the upcoming wedding of England’s Prince William to his princess-to-be, Kate Middleton.  

Not only fascinating to British folk who worship the royal family, The Toronto Star reported that “Royal Wedding” was one of the most googled terms in Canada. If you google the term—which I admittedly did—you will find countless Royal Wedding websites devoted to outlining the wedding details, offering Royal Wedding trivia, and even more distastefully, selling William-and-Kate-related merchandise and memorabilia. One of the items includes a replica of Kate’s stunning engagement ring, previously worn by William’s mother Princess Diana. Even Vanity Fair has a portion of their website devoted to counting down the days and events leading up to the April 29 nuptials. Recently, Prime Minister Stephen Harper announced that he and his wife Laureen are proud to be representing Canada at the affair. In the digital age, the publicity relating to the event has already eclipsed that of Charles and Diana’s wedding in 1981—well known for being a media circus.  

Some have taken the fervour even further. Clapham Common, one of London’s most famous parks, will be saturated with tents and union flags as it is transformed into “Camp Royale.” Paying campers (at a whopping £75 per person) will be able to watch the events on a giant screen while sipping on Yorkshire tea. There will even be prizes awarded to the guests with the most creatively designed tents.  

To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with a little indulgence in an event and a story that, to be perfectly honest, are quite enthralling. The fact that England still has a royal family is in itself pretty interesting—and yes, a little bizarre, antiquated, and slightly reminiscent of the 400 or so years when it was a global empire.  

But beyond that, in what other form do people get to witness a modern-day fairytale? In this story, a prince meets a beautiful commoner (at university instead of at the ball), falls in love, and eventually proposes to her (with an 18-carat blue sapphire ring instead of a glass slipper). The thought of a girl from humble beginnings casually dating one of the most sought-after men in the world rightfully has many, including myself, racing with questions: How did the courtship compare to that of normal people? Would she like him if he weren’t the prince? What was it like meeting grandma?  

But, while the wedding details are admittedly more interesting than those of the average couple, the media circus that has already surrounded the event—and that will exponentially increase as the date nears—still raises questions about the role of the media, and the extent to which we should give a shit. The president of CTV announced that the event will be treated “like an Olympics,” and USA Today, NBC, ABC, and CBC have all reported that they are going to be substantially increasing their expenditures for live broadcasting of the wedding. The costs of sending anchors, cameramen, and entire network crews to England is no small allowance, and it will come at the expense of financing coverage of more serious issues.  

Yes, life goes on in the face of world crises. Yes, as many have argued, life should go on especially in the face of world crises. Yes, I would love to hear Elton John write a new song, as I venture to guess that he will. But even though everybody knows the monarchy has little effect on England’s political affairs at home and abroad, it seems strange that the amount of money, hype, and publicity that is going into an event in honour of the faces of the nation, has not been regarded as in any way problematic.

I’m not suggesting that, in solidarity to the catastrophes that have been taking place, the couple trade Westminster Abbey for their backyard (though that would be nice, too), Alexander McQueen for a no-name brand, and the A-list brigade of guests for a small gathering of their closest friends. I do wonder, however, when we cross the line from interested voyeurs to frivolous and apathetic citizens of the world.

Until this September, I was a message board virgin. In fact, when a fellow editor told me last year that he had found most of his interview subjects for a story he was writing through message boards, I didn’t even know what he was talking about. He explained to me that there were two important things to remember about these online forums: the Internet contains message boards on virtually any topic you can fathom, and the majority of people who post on these forums are, like most online commenters, somewhat crazy.

The message board many students are probably most familiar with is Yahoo! Answers. Here, curious users throw a question out into the void of the Internet, and self-appointed “experts” do their best to provide answers. Often, a question will elicit five responses each presenting contradictory answers or proposing very different courses of action. While the site occassionally provides legitimate information, it is more often useful simply for the hilarity its many questions and answers afford. Another popular genre of message boards are baby name forums, where expectant parents post the option they are considering as a name for their unborn child, and ask for feedback. Because really, who better to help name your child than hordes of anonymous (and crazy) Internet users from across the globe?

Needless to say, until this fall I had never found a need to use a message board. In the midst of the extremely confusing and seemingly never-ending law school application process, I gave in. Looking for an answer about some minute facet of one school’s application, I did what anyone would do: I googled it. This led me to a message board specifically for prospective Canadian law students. After finding the answer to my question, I curiously began to click around on the other discussions. Three hours later, I knew I was in big trouble. The board provides a forum for any and all applicants from across the country to commiserate and ask questions. Its threads are divided by topics, such as LSAT or school comparisons, and by each individual law school.

For anxious applicants–myself included–disappointed by a lack of specific information provided by the schools on their admissions policies, and desperate for any fragment of information, this message board seemed to be an endless repository of information. I found myself scanning the “IN” threads from as far back as 2007, comparing my GPA and LSAT scores to those who were admitted in that cycle. Other threads debated the extent to which each school emphasizes “soft” factors like extracurriculur activities, while others debated law school rankings and reputations. For the next week, I spent endless hours on the site. I checked it every time I was near a computer. I compared my stats to every other poster, and felt sick to my stomach as the “Accepted!” threads started to appear. With my applications completed and submitted, and nothing to do but wait, reading the message boards offered a measure of catharsis.

I quickly realized, however, that the majority of posters had the exact same level of knowledge as I did. Everyone who answered was basing their response on pure speculation, or, at best, information they found in threads from previous years. Rumours, anecdotes, and information from “my cousin who went to law school” made up the bulk of the “information” that these forums provide. By far the most common thread is titled something like “Chances?” Here, an individual will post their stats, then ask other users to speculate what their odds of being admitted to that school are, similar in some ways to baby name forums. Armed with little more than the average entering grades from the previous year, which each school publishes, fellow applicants respond with either yes or no, despite the fact that they have no real knowledge to go on.

If you’re applying to any grad school or professional school, there is likely one of these message boards focused on your program somewhere on the Internet. Be warned: they may provide mild catharsis and the impression of being in the know, but in reality no one posting actually has any more information than you. When the acceptance and rejection letters start getting mailed out, the boards become even more treacherous. It can be nice to know that the letters are coming, but disheartening when it seems that all the other posters have gotten in except you. I don’t think most of the commenters on these grad school boards are crazy, however; they’re just regular university students desperate for information about their prospects for future education. I’ve now managed to reign in my addiction–I only check the website for updates once a day. And even though I fell victim to the black hole of law school message boards, I don’t think I’ll be turning to the Internet when it comes time to name my children.

az.milesplit.com

Shin splints, stress fractures, and plantar fasciitis plague most distance runners at some point, but there’s one condition that nearly all endurance athletes face, one that makes roads unsafe and unsanitary for casual exercisers: sudden onset runner’s diarrhea. Some athletes don’t poop and tell, forever ashamed of their experiences in the bushes or of the time they didn’t make it home. For others, it’s a rite of passage, and the more inconvenient and agonizing the incident, the better the story.

Who’s at risk?

Runners, joggers, bikers, and whoever is in their way.

Symptoms

The condition should be self- explanatory: sudden onset runner’s diarrhea.

To qualify as SORD, the event must be absolutely unanticipated. Anticipating the effects of last night’s Thai Express doesn’t count. It also must take place at, or near, the turnaround point of a run, far away from home. The problem begins as a slight stomach disturbance. However, what separates SORD from a stomach ache is the progression of symptoms. The continual bouncing of a runner’s body turns a low pressure system into a category five tornado, and when the cramping sets in, it becomes a battle to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  A SORD-stricken runner will typically be seen hunched over, sweating profusely, waddling like a penguin moving at high speed, and exhibiting a look of sheer terror.

Causes

With a diet heavy in fruit, vegetables, and whole grains, the average endurance athlete consumes more fibre than is in your grandmother’s Metamucil bottle. Occasional experimentation with supplements doesn’t help.  

Treatment

There are three treatment options: find a public bathroom, pray  you can make it home without soiling your shorts, or address the problem immediately in a public place. The first is rarely available, so learn how to politely convince shopkeepers and restaurant owners to let you use their bathrooms. Phrases such as “If you don’t let me use your bathroom, I will shit all over your floor” or “I’m in labour, where’s the bathroom?” usually incite enough panic (or confusion) in business owners to let you end your agony in a nice, private, sanitary stall.

The second option, getting home in time, is risky. Some can pull it off, although this often requires a super human effort.

The third option is embarrassing, but immediately effective. Unfortunately, there’s no place to discretely drop trou on the Lachine Canal. The mountain is safer, although you run the risk of an uncomfortable run-in with cross country skiers or hikers. This move requires finesse, and a basic understanding of botany, because poison ivy can ruin your day for the second time.

When to seek help

As the saying goes, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. A pre-run poop can prevent 95 per cent of SORD cases. However, even the most disciplined can run into trouble. A general rule is don’t be a hero. If you think it might be SORD, run for your life. Or your shorts.

I would call myself a pretty neat person. I wash dishes the night they’re dirtied, do laundry once a week, and occasionally brush my teeth. However, the events that transpired shortly before this past Reading Week have led me to re-evaluate my cleanliness.

The story starts the Wednesday before break when I heard some odd sounds in my apartment. I was lying in bed, studying for a quiz when a scratching sound came from directly above me. Not the scratching sound of someone walking upstairs, but the scratching of something smaller, alive, moving around. Shortly after the mysterious noise, I heard something take off, running directly above the ceiling, across the room. I figured this was a mouse, or squirrel which had gotten into the ceiling above my apartment, but because I had never heard the sound before, I thought it was a one-time occurrence. As a precaution, however, I set up a toilet-paper roll mousetrap in my kitchen.

A couple days later, after the Operating Systems quiz I had been studying for, I was at home making breakfast. As my apartment filled with the aroma of cooking bacon, I was relaxing and looking forward to Reading Week, which was only a few hours away. Shortly after turning off the stove, though, I heard the sound again. This time it was coming from the bathroom. I tiptoed into the room, where I identified the sound as coming from behind the toilet. Upon investigation, I discovered a hole, three inches in diameter, that had not been there when I moved in. My mind churned, as I tried to attribute this hole to anything other than the obvious. My fears were confirmed: a large rat poked its head out, sniffed around, and turned back into the walls. It was at precisely this point that my day was officially ruined.

I shut the bathroom door, hurried to my phone and did what any 21-year-old man would do in this situation: I called my mom. We concluded that the most logical course of action was to call my landlord, set traps, and leave the house. I left a message for my landlord and headed out. After class, I went to Canadian Tire and bought several rat traps. While setting these up, I discovered my biggest fear in life: getting caught in one of these traps. I baited them and headed to a hotel for the night.

Returning the next morning before my train left, I found that one of the traps had gone off but Steve McQueen, as I had named the creature, was nowhere to be found. I had to leave that morning, so I re-baited the traps and left another message for my landlord, asking him to drop by and check the traps every few days over reading week.

Unfortunately, upon my return, the beast had not yet been captured. However, my landlord told me that about a week before, when checking the traps (at this point there were six in my eight square foot bathroom), he’d discovered that one had gone off and there was a trail of blood leading back to the hole. There had been no sign of Steve McQueen since. We decided to wait another week before patching the hole, in case Steve McQueen returned. The rat never came back, and I can only assume he was either mortally wounded in his quest for peanut butter, or he moved on to terrorize another dwelling.

As a result of the whole ordeal, I learned how to deal with one of Montreal’s most disgusting pests. Here are some tips:

You might have a rat if you hear strange noises like I did. If you find strange holes in your house, that’s another good indication of a furry inhabitant. One of the most telling sign is rat droppings. If you think you have a rat and you find droppings, you should stop thinking and start acting.

If a rat has taken up residence in your apartment, you should call your landlord straight away, (right after calling your mom, that is). It is their responsibility to take care of the pest.

Avoid using rat poison. Even though you might kill the rat, if it dies in your walls, it will bring an awful stench. Live traps can work, but only if the rat really can’t get out. Additionally, you’ll need to free the pest far away from your home.

Finally, rats love bacon. Who can blame them, though?

From January to April, almost every conversation you will overhear at McGill will be about finding a place to live in Montreal. Especially when looking for your first apartment, it often feels like you will never find the right place unless you act fast and start early. While the rest of the city is more flexible when it comes to finding and successfully renting an apartment, getting a place in the McGill Ghetto can feel like a rat race—40 people visiting one place at a time; same-day lease signings; forming quick friendships with current tenants in the hope that they will remember your name when it comes time to give up their lease.

Throughout all of this turmoil, the most effective way of securing your “dream apartment” five minutes from school seems to be paying a finder’s fee, or, as some people call it, a “furniture fee.” This practice, once the exception, seems to have become the rule in the area, and has been getting more outrageous by the year. Often, groups of students end up paying huge sums to other students to “secure” an apartment and beat out the large numbers of other students vying for the same place. But while it may seem like a necessity to fork over thousands of dollars, it’s actually possible and probable that you can find an apartment without paying fellow students.  

Finder’s fees are an abuse of tenant’s rights in Quebec, where tenants are legally allowed to control the end date of their lease. Landlords are not allowed to evict people, and this is where finder’s fees come in. Without written confirmation of the end date of a lease, landlords cannot legally rent the apartment to another group. This puts great power into the hands of tenants, and while it is necessary and fair for many, these rights can be taken advantage of, and landlords can’t do much about it.

One justification for both charging and paying finder’s fees is that it’s another version of a security deposit that you will presumably get back at the end of your time in the apartment. If you paid a finder’s fee when you moved in, this might seem fair, but the whole point of a security deposit is to get it back from the person you paid it to in the first place. The next person who takes your apartment has no business in your previous business arrangements, and should not be responsible for whatever fees you paid when you moved in. So if the deposit argument is going to be at all valid, you should get your finder’s fee back from the people who charged you for it.

Obviously, this isn’t how things work. Relying on the idea that you will get the money back when you move out, many decide that paying a finder’s fee is “worth it” for the apartment. This might be valid if the apartments in question were well-kept, nicely furnished, and clean. However, the majority of apartments in the Ghetto have seen better days, as landlords often don’t feel the need to keep them in good condition because students will rent them no matter what. In my mind, paying a huge finder’s fee for a mediocre apartment definitely isn’t “worth it.”

Having spent a long time searching for an acceptable five-bedroom apartment in the Ghetto, I can attest to the fact that it’s hard to find something that’s ideal without compromising on a few things. But one of those compromises shouldn’t be a finder’s fee. If you want to rent an apartment, don’t listen to the justification from current tenants that it’s only “fair” that you pay one; you aren’t responsible for someone else’s decision. And yes, while that may mean giving up your dream apartment—like my roommates and I ultimately decided to do to avoid paying $5,000, a price that appears to be on the lower end of the finder’s fee spectrum—you will be able to find another, perhaps better place to live without handing over hard-earned money to another student who did nothing to deserve it.

McGill Tribune

This week, the House of Commons passed Bill C-393. The bill seeks to amend the Canadian Access to Medicines Regime (CAMR) to streamline the process by which generic copies of patented drugs can be shipped to people who need them in the developing world. Despite criticism from some academics and politicians, C-393 has the potential to save lives, and should be passed by the Senate.

Canada currently has legislation permitting the export of generic versions of patented drugs. It was passed after some loosening in the Agreement on Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights (TRIPS) in 2003. Many countries around the world have regimes similar to CAMR, which are seen as vital to supplying low-cost treatment for HIV/AIDS in poor nations. Brand-name drugs, on the other hand, are often prohibitively expensive.

Though CAMR has been on the books since 2004, only two shipments of one drug have ever made it out of the country. Generic drug companies have declined to produce additional generic drugs, despite the profit incentive, because of a laborious application process. To increase the number of shipments, the new bill removes current limitations on licensing, and would grant generic companies who are approved to make a particular drug as much of it as they want. Currently only one third of the 15 million people in need of HIV/AIDS treatment worldwide have access to drugs. Many of these generic drugs come from India—which makes some of the cheapest generic medication—but these drugs tend to lose effectiveness as the virus adapts. New drugs will be needed, many only available in their brand-name form right now. Any legislation that will help save the lives of HIV/AIDS victims who simply cannot afford more medication is welcome and necessary.

C-393 has not been without its detractors. These have mainly consisted of the big brand drug companies represented by Rx&D; some prominent MPs, including Industry Minister Tony Clement and downtown Montreal’s own Marc Garneau; and some academics. The argument against rests on two premises. First, that C-393 loosens restrictions on intellectual property laws. This allows generic drug manufacturers to profit off the work of others and may hamper research and development into drug manufacture in Canada. Second, Canadian generic drugs are notoriously expensive compared to those coming out of countries like New Zealand and India, and this bill may not be performing an affordable service at all. People who buy the drugs may be impoverishing themselves while the wallets of generic drug makers thicken. This, they argue, is pat-on-the-back legislation, not real humanitarianism.

These arguments, while they have validity, are not enough to warrant obstruction of this important measure. Intellectual property laws are important, but finding a balance between protecting producers and consumers is important, too. Hampering R&D would be a negative outcome, but protecting the interests of an extremely profitable industry is hardly a moral issue. Saving lives, on the other hand, is, and the current regime we have in place doesn’t do it. It makes sense, then, to try something else. It would of course be naive to suppose that generic pharmaceutical makers are entirely altruistic. Firms like Apotex operate for-profit and do so successfully. Yet they still sell their products for less than brand-names, and hopefully a higher volume of sales will push prices down accordingly. Moreover, it is not for Mr. Clement to decide if Canadian generic drugs are too expensive. If they are, they won’t sell. The worst that could happens is a return to square one, and in that case it would be time to re-evaluate.

Despite being introduced by the NDP and garnering opposition from some key MPs, some Conservatives and many Liberals voted for C-393. We hope the Senate will rise above partisanship too, and do something good for impoverished HIV/AIDS victims: pass this bill.