Alice Walker

Alice Walker

When trying to describe the underlying message of TNC Theatre’s newest production, Attempts on Her Life, the odds are stacked against you. Attempts on Her Life, directed by Laura Freitag, is the best-known work by modern British playwright Martin Crimp. Divided into 16 episodic segments, the play is a mosaic of disparate scenes and encounters within which the only unifying thread is a female figure: Anne, or sometimes Annie. In her director’s note, Freitag writes that this figure is “the perfect litmus test for [the play’s] narratives—denying them closure and determinacy while making them individualized and palpable.” In other words, the character gives the audience something to focus on amidst the chaos of the rest of the play.

Attempts on Her Life is “the skeleton of a script,” according to Freitag, written in unbroken prose, without assigning specific lines or roles to the actors. Accordingly, the director is given a great deal of leeway when choosing the number of actors and assigning their roles. Freitag’s cast of six (Arlen Aguayo Stewart, Marko Djurdjic, Max Lanocha, Cory Lipman, Norah Paton, and Joy Ross-Jones) brings an array of characters to life onstage: terrorists and art critics, children and adults, particle physicists and porn stars. The cast’s effectiveness is evident; the actors are able to both maintain distinct voices and mesh well within the ensemble. The play is staged so that each scene begins with its number and title projected onto a cloth screen at the rear of the stage. While hurried costume changes are made, an answering machine message is played to the audience. The 16 events trace out no recognizable narrative structure. There’s a sexy disco dance number, a sing-a-long in which Djurdjic plays the banjo, and a sales pitch for a car called “The New Anny” in both English and, perhaps, Russian. Theres also  partial nudity.

The play has all the right ingredients. If it were not for borderline traumatic scenes—a military checkpoint, an interrogation, an account of a rural village torn apart by war—the performance would be almost too much fun. The explicitly political aspect of Crimp’s writing, however, forces you to take it seriously. Under all the frivolity, there’s no doubt that Crimp is trying to convey something important to the audience, albeit in an unconventional fashion.  

The overall inability to fully explain the performance demands that we make sense of Attempts on Her Life ourselves. “Western theatre does a very good job of disempowering the spectator because they can’t assert themselves,” Freitag says. “But I think, in a play like this, the spectator is empowered because they become meaning-manufacturing parts of the show.” Seeing this play is an attempt in itself—you can’t watch it without trying to decipher it the whole time.

Attempts On Her Life runs at TNC theatre, Morrice Hall, Feb 9- 12 at 8 p.m. Tickets are $6, email [email protected] for details.

At this point in the ratings game, there’s almost nobody left who doesn’t know what Glee is. The show averages an astronomical number of viewers and has turned its cast into stars. With the second season came an even wider audience and a more devoted fan base, and Fox has already ordered a third season. Of course, the show hasn’t been without its criticism, but Glee has won every battle of sheer popularity. The critics are, for the most part, ignored.

A recent public blowout, however, between the show’s creator and rock band Kings of Leon brought to light another ballyhooed aspect of the show, and it’s one worth mentioning. The story is this: Glee approached Kings of Leon sometime in the not-so-distant past about using their song “Use Somebody” on the show, and the band turned down the request claiming they had never seen Glee while simultaneously insisting that lending their song to the pop culture phenomenon would be akin to “selling out.” In a recent interview in “The Hollywood Reporter,” Glee creator Ryan Murphy was quoted saying, “Fuck you, Kings of Leon. They’re self-centred assholes, and they missed the big picture. They missed that a seven-year-old kid can see someone close to their age singing a Kings of Leon song, which will maybe make them want to join a glee club or pick up a musical instrument.” The dispute was further aggravated when Kings of Leon band member Nathan Followill tweeted a homophobic insult to Ryan Murphy and suggesting he get over the whole debacle. In the end, Murphy spoke out about the homophobia and Followill apologized and retracted his quote.  

The whole public battle between Murphy and Kings of Leon is nothing if not childish and downright embarrassing. Murphy acted like an immature toddler when he blasted Kings of Leon for their refusal to let Glee use their song, and came off like a pompous windbag when he insisted Glee was some sort of musical miracle. Despite this, the villain in the story ended up being Followill thanks to his homophobic taunt. Overall, nobody wins in a public drama like this one.  

The feud highlights these questions: Are artists selling out by licensing their songs to Glee? And how should rejection be dealt with? Musicians have right to decide who can cover their songs, and while the definition of selling out is murky at best, if that’s how an artist feels about Glee, there’s really no reason they shouldn’t be able to turn down good money if they feel it will maintain their integrity as an artist. After all, once Glee gains control of a song, they are veritably free to do with it what they wish, and this can be a terrifying situation for an artist who has worked hard to make their music. That being said, Glee brings many songs to a broad audience and can definitely help popularize an artist should they choose to allow the show access to their catalogue.  

There’s no right or wrong in the decision to allow Glee to use songs, and there’s no reason artists should be disrespected for turning the show down. However, should artists refuse to allow Glee to use their material, it’s completely unprofessional to make things personal. Glee will be here for a while, and many artists will give their songs to the show by the time it ends. The show’s fans are appreciative for the new versions of their favourite songs and for exposure to songs they never knew existed. In the end, the original songs still exist and artists are allowed to keep their songs intact should they so choose, so does anybody really get hurt?

Sanctum 3D, based on true events, begins with a team of divers exploring an undiscovered cave system in the South Pacific’s Esa-ala Caves. When warnings of a tropical storm begin, the team is swiftly thrown into a spiral of disasters that trap them in the caves. With no way to escape from the top, the team, left with few supplies, is forced to find another way out through the cave system.  

This movie has James Cameron’s stamp all over it, literally and visually. The first shot of the film is obviously a nod to Cameron’s early critically acclaimed underwater thriller, The Abyss. Director Alister Grierson brazenly mimics that infamous image of the shadowy figure of a diver superimposed on a bright white light, leaving no room for creativity or imagination.

The film uses Avatar‘s film technology to create the most claustrophobic film you will ever see. The story follows the lead of Frank (Richard Roxburgh), a master diver leading the expedition into the unknown underwater cave system. Things take a turn for the worse when a tropical storm suddenly takes them by surprise, trapping them inside. Frank, his teenage son Josh (Rhys Wakefield), and their billionaire sponsor, Carl (Ioan Gruffudd) and his fiancée are forced to find a w.ay out through the treacherous caves. The trapped divers show all the typical traits of stock characters: the rich dude, the rich dude’s beautiful but mean fiancée, the loyal and humourous best friend, the spoiled child, and the tough-as-nails father.  

Despite a lacklustre plot, the close-ups and the turning-360 shots were beautifully done, effectively conveying the entrapment of the divers. Claustrophobia hasn’t been more brilliantly conveyed since Hitchcock. The 3D effect heightens the illusion of literally pushing the screen towards your eyes and forcing you to experience the terrors that ensue. When Frank loses his focus and is trapped under water with no breathing apparatus, the spinning camera action imposes panic on your unwilling heart. These effects combined with the beautiful scenic shots help make the film bearable.  

With underdeveloped acting and dialogue, acting veteran Roxburgh and newcomer Wakefield are able to breathe some life into their generic characters, revealing some heartfelt moments and development in their on-screen relationship. As Frank’s trusted friend, Dan Wyllie almost flawlessly executes his role as the comic relief. The subtle humour in the film is like an oxygen tank that replenishes the lungs, since the better half of the film will be spent holding your breath indefinitely.  

Sanctum 3D is worth the mere thrill of experiencing the realities of cave diving in unchartered waters. Proceed with caution and don’t forget to breathe.

Julian Haber

Julian Haber

When I read the tagline for Geordie Theatre’s MöcShplat—”Shakespeare … in a language you can finally understand”—I assumed they were being ironic. But this clown version of Macbeth, told only in gibberish, was not only easy to understand, it also made the plot and themes accessible for the Shakespeare novice and expert alike.  

Despite the clowns, MöcShplat—which pokes fun at drunks, fornication, and murder—is not a show for children. With a cast of four clowns, played by Marcel Jeannin, Michel Perron, John Sheridan, and Danielle Desormeaux, and directed by Alain Goulem, the play is the product of a series of workshops and presentations that emerged in the late 1990s. Working collaboratively on gags and the creation of an original language, the group of seasoned actors is a joy to watch. With a language of their own and an adept use of mime and gesture, they weave their story so effectively that any previous knowledge of Macbeth is unnecessary. Yet MöcShplat also caters to the Shakespeare lover in the audience. Those familiar with Macbeth will laugh uproariously at the clown rendition of “Is this a dagger I see before me?” Lady Macbeth’s “Unsex me here,” and one of my personal favourites, “To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow.”

The cast should be commended for their energy, precision and skill. Highlights included Perron’s Godfather-like Quindönk (Duncan), Sheridan’s fight between two clowns in the wings, and Desormeaux’s incredible facial expressions. All the actors have perfect comedic timing, and the music in the show gives their movements a dance-like precision. This, combined with the clash of their clown personalities and the absurdity of the costumes and props, makes MöcShplat sidesplitting from beginning to end.  

The most impressive part of the performance is how well it displays themes of the Shakespeare classic. Director Alain Goulem suggests that clowns, with their childlike desires to have one thing one moment and another thing the next, makes them the perfect vessels to explore Shakespearean themes. This is evident through Jeannin’s MöcShplat (Macbeth), who hits all the marks of this complex character, demonstrating his shifts from ambition, fear, and nobility in a way that’s not only believable, but also identifiable; the best theatrical device to this purpose was the use of red yarn as blood. After killing Quindönk (King Duncan), a gruesomely funny scene that only a clown could pull off, MöcShplat remains covered in bits of red string for the rest of the play. As the play continues, bits of red string are dropped here and there, so by the end, just like Laädie’s (Lady M) hands, MöcShplat, the stage, and even some of the audience members are covered in blood—a fitting metaphor for the bloodthirsty story.  

Montreal is just the beginning for MöcShplat. Plans include touring across Canada, then hopefully continuing to Edinburgh and Europe. One can expect big things from this show—the great energy and thought that brought about its inception certainly indicates a bright future. These happy, horny, cruel, drunk, scared, and silly creatures offer a much needed ray of sunshine in these cold months.

MöcShplat runs at the Centaur Theatre, Feb. 12, 7 p.m. & 9:30 p.m., and Feb. 13 at 3 p.m. & 7 p.m. $17.