The Desperate Izmores: portrait of a marriage in crisis. Don’t you dare laugh.

Ron Pederson and Belinda Cornish at the 2014 Soap-A-Thon. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

She’s bored — with a chaser of exasperation and an adenoidal voice that makes your fillings hurt. He’s a sad-sack sulker, a dimwit who’d  be a poster boy for morosity (if that ever becomes an actual word).

And yes, they are married.

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Meet the Izmores, Janine and Les. Life chez Izmore is one marital cataclysm after another. Their marriage, perpetually on the point of implosion, will make you appreciate your own, even if you live in the House of Atreus. Janine and Les Izmore are the hilariously awful stars of a new YouTube comedy series created “for fun and laughs” in these socially distant times by deluxe actor/improviser/ directors Belinda Cornish and Ron Pederson — from opposite ends of the country.

Toronto-based Pederson, who regularly returns to his home town to appear in Teatro La Quindicina and Bright Young Things productions, says the Izmore characters were born at the 2014 Die-Nasty Soap-A-Thon. “Belinda and I had played a notorious husband and wife couple called the Ceiling Fans, an alcoholic pair of hallucinogenic actors who never knew where they were in 2008 and 2010,” he says. 

In 2014, as the soap marathon was about to begin, he “just had pyjamas and a robe for a costume, and a painted moustache (ah, and a wig). And I was gonna play some kind of sad loser, a VCR repairman named Les Izmore….”

“Belinda came into the dressing room where I was unsure who to be, and we just shrugged and said ‘let’s be husband and wife again’.” Over the next 50 Soap-A-Thon hours the pair developed a couple who were constantly in crisis: “their marriage, their finances, their jobs, everything was always crashing around them. They were scared, and lost, and constantly freaking out.”

This turned out to be inspired. “Such a fun time that we always talked about making a play, maybe a Christmas play, for them,”  Pederson says. He credits the idea of taking the Izmores online to Cornish, who “recently had the notion these people would be funny on Zoom…. And since they were born of a soap opera, an overly dramatic series began to emerge.”

“We get together (online), and improvise and write.” The jaunty theme music (with whistling!) is courtesy of three-time Dora-winning composer Waylen Miki.

In episode 1 of The Desperate Izmores, available here, we find Les Izmore, looking particularly rumpled, living in the basement of the marital home, arguing with his fretful wife. Who is needier? Who is more aggressive? Discuss amongst yourselves afterwards. And now, there’s an episode 2. Stay tuned: a terrible marriage keeps ’em coming. 

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FringeLiveStream: a new Fringe season venture in bringing live performances direct to your screen

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

A summer without Fringes? It’s a strange and defoliated calendar for us audiences — and a daunting one for theatre artists, already struggling to survive the shutting down of the performing arts industry.

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Fringe veteran Jon Paterson, whose theatre skill set includes actor, playwright, director, stage manager, designer, technician, (and like every Fringe artist) producer, cast his gaze online. That’s where his bright idea, FringeLiveStream, happens Thursday, and every week of the Fringe festival season in North America, till October.

FringeLiveStream is a fringe-y festival of weekly live online performances. Like the Fringes of the circuit, they’re uncurated and uncensored — save for one performance per month reserved for an AUC (Artists From Underrepresented Communities) show. It launches this week at 7 p.m. on facebook.com/fringelivestream and FringeLiveStream.com. First up is #Magic, by and starring magician/mentalist Jeff Newman. All performances are pay-what-you-can, with 100 per cent of donations returned to the artist.

Edmonton audiences know the resourceful Paterson, a Grant MacEwan grad, from his collaborations, both on- and offstage, with such troupes as RibbitRePublic and Monster Theatre. He’s toured Fringes with storyteller Martin Dockery (Inescapable). He’s starred in Daniel MacIvor’s House, most recently in the National Arts Centre’s #CanadaPerforms series. He’s assembled programming for the Edmonton Fringe’s satellite site in the French Quarter. Lately Paterson has spent winters (the official Fringe off-season) as the technical director of the Astor Theatre in Liverpool, Nova Scotia. He knows how to be busy, witness his Fringe show Best Picture, a spoof of 87 Oscar winners in 60 minutes.

And then came the pandemic.

“We were looking for a cohesive umbrella for shows,” says Paterson. “CAFF (Canadian Association of Fringe Festivals) offered support; their only stipulation was the AUC component.” FringeLiveStream programming happens by online lottery, he says from his Mississauga pandemic retreat. “The first was at the time of the Orlando Fringe” for the June slots. The next is June 25 for July shows.

“Shows can provide their own technical programs,” he says, “or I can host a Zoom meeting and make it pretty on Facebook.” The shows stream live on the (Thursday) night, “and the artists can stream on Facebook for the next week if they want, and try for more donations.”

Adam Schwartz, Fireside Chat. Photo supplied.

After #Magic, the June lineup includes Les Kurkendaal-Barrett (an American Fringe circuit regular) in Climbing My Family Tree on June 4, Joanne Roberts’ The Iceberg on June 11, Mohana Rajakumar’s Being Brown Is My Super Power on June 18, and Fireside Chat with autistic comedian Adam Schwartz on June 25. 

FringeLiveStream “borrows its idea from #CanadaPerforms,” says Paterson of the series, which explores online performance and generates a little income for artists in the process. He thinks of the new venture as a modest contribution at a tough time. “Will I become a truck driver? The ‘what’s next’ is looming for all of us.” 

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Cocktails at Stewart’s: Teatro La Quindicina throws an online party to celebrate a birthday and a season on hold for a year

Andrew MacDonald-Smith, Shannon Blanchet, Belinda Cornish, Vincent Forcier in Whiplash Weekend! by Stewart Lemoine. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

“Listen, life is valuable…. If it ends, you’d miss it. Remember that, but also forget about it. I’m done. Where’s my drink?”

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The woman who delivers an impromptu Best Lady acceptance speech in Stewart Lemoine’s 2003 comedy The Margin of the Sky — and gets handed a glass of champagne for her pains — was on to something. Hold that thought.

There’s a certain wistful might-have-been attached to Thursday night. In the parallel universe where pandemics don’t exist, that’s when Teatro La Quindicina’s 38th season would have begun. With a revival of Evelyn Strange, a black comedy/ thriller of the Hitchcock persuasion set in New York and, in one crucial scene a box at the Metropolitan Opera. It would have been followed by Everybody Goes To Mitzi’s in July, a new Lemoine for the Fringe in August, and Fever-Land in September. 

Jocelyn Ahlf, Andrew MacDonald-Smith, Jason Hardwick, Rachel Bowron in What Gives? Photo supplied.

OK, the play can’t open. Neither can the Teatro summer season, postponed intact for a full year. But the appetite for celebration can’t be put on hold. Which is why Teatro is throwing an online gala instead, Thursday at 7:30 p.m. On a screen (very) near you, it’s party time — in honour of the un-launchable season, and the 60th birthday of Lemoine, Teatro’s founder and resident playwright.

The organizers of the variety bash are the trio of veteran Teatro artists who would have been directing three of the four productions in the 2020 Teatro season that will be reborn in 12 months as the 2021 season: Shannon Blanchet, Belinda Cornish, and Kate Ryan.

Cocktails at Pam’s by Stewart Lemoine. Photo supplied.

Says Blanchet, “it’s a chance to rally, to come together with our audience for an occasion … to connect and try and bring some joy and frivolity” at a time when they’re in short supply. When the Queen said ‘we’ll meet again’ in her hit COVID speech, Blanchet’s weren’t the only eyes to tear up.

“For the company, it’s a chance for reflection we don’t often have because we’re so busy getting a play together,” she says. “We know our audience…. We’re at the theatre with them. We’re in the box office, we’re at the concession every night.”

And an experiment in digital presence is useful too. “At heart there’s a vintage spirit to Teatro,” says actor-turned-director Blanchet, whose revival of Evelyn Strange will now open the 2021 season next May 27. “How do we retain that spirit in a different medium? This is a chance to explore how to expand our digital footprint.” She laughs. “I’m in ‘uncertain artist’ mode.… I’m used to thinking of my generation as ‘the kids’. But we’re distinctly mid-career. How will we adapt?”

The balance between tradition and legacy, and adaptation to the new are on her mind. And on that subject Evelyn Strange gives a pleasing configuration to Blanchet’s career. It was her professional acting debut out of U of A theatre school, and it will be her debut as a director. 

Online productions, interviews, readings and the rest can’t replace the live in-person experience that’s at the heart of theatre, of course. “OK, they’re not theatre,” says Blanchet. “Accept that. You change the molecular content of the universe when people come together.” But the digital world is a frontier that has other possibilities, and Thursday’s house party is a moment for Teatro to explore them, she thinks.

Belinda Cornish and Jeff Haslam in The Exquisite Hour (2013), Teatro La Quindicina. Photo by Andrew MacDonald-Smith.

Some 45 artists, from far and wide, have contributed to the evening in one way or another, reports Blanchet. We’ll see monologues and scenes from  Lemoine’s own faves — Shockers Delight!, The Margin of the Sky, Whiplash Weekend!, The Exquisite Hour, The Oculist’s Holiday, Swiss Pajamas among them. And there’s a specially curated selection of two-hand scenes performed by COVID co-habitants, including Cornish and Mark Meer, Jenny McKillop and Garett Ross, Mat Busby and Jenna Dykes-Busby, Kristi Hansen and Sheldon Elter.

Music, which features prominently in the Lemoine canon, is part of the extravaganza: musical numbers from Jocelyn Ahlf, Andrea House, Ryan Sigurdson, and Sheri Somerville, with additional music by Erik Mortimer.

And there will be cocktails (made by you from instructions online), as befits a repertoire filled with classic drinks. Teatro, after all, is a company that for a couple of decades revived Lemoine’s Cocktails at Pam’s every five years. Blanchet remembers the opening night of the screwball comedy Whiplash Weekend!, in which she played a long-distance swimmer who toasts “here’s to you, Lake Ontario!” She lifted her glass, as she recalls, and found herself sipping Veuve Cliquot. “What a great way to open a show!”

There’s even “a surprise piece for Stewart,” says Blanchet. It’s a Zoom production of an early piece, shhh, “and he won’t see it coming!”

PREVIEW

Stewart Lemoine’s Diamond Jubil-AEIIIII!

Theatre: Teatro La Quindicina

Directed by: Shannon Blanchet, Belinda Cornish, Kate Ryan

Hosted by: Rachel Bowron

Starring: 45 Teatro ensemble actors, with surprise guests 

Where: teatroq.com

When: Thursday 7:30, available for viewing through June 5.

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“Where are you?” Tracks, an online experiment, takes us home with the cast.

Hayley Moorhouse in Tracks, Amoris Projects. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

A preamble to Tracks, the online theatre that’s happening this week on your own screen….

Ever since going out to theatre, my way of life for forever, abruptly ended a thousand years ago (or 10 weeks, depending on your calendar), I’ve been at home.

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In distractible fragments of late, I’ve watched filmed versions of productions, excerpts, play readings, archival footage and online scrapbooks, internet interviews with actors, director, assorted sages. I’ve watched discussions about whither theatre?, the history and future of theatre, how theatre is different from film and, oh I don’t know, gardening or making focaccia. I’ve seen Shakespeare at the Globe and the National Theatre in London, and the Stratford Festival in Ontario (including the marvellous Robert Lepage Coriolanus, available till Thursday). I’ve watched Brecht’s wife, the legendary actor Helene Weigel, in the Berliner Ensemble’s Mother Courage from 1950, and heard the audience coughing.

I’ve watched Helen Mirren and Judi Dench explain what acting means in an acting “class” on YouTube. Thanks to the clever pandemic reinvention of Die-Nasty I’ve watched improv as a radio play, with the cast members in their own homes responding to directorial cues as they go along. 

There’s no shortage of theatre “content” online, but mostly it can’t capture the live theatre crackle of being with other people, both on the stage and off. (Not to discount the efforts: it serves as a reminder of what we’re missing, what we’ll love more than ever when it’s back). Until Tuesday night, though, I hadn’t seen an online play actually produced live and on the spot — especially for a small audience with tickets for a certain night. An audience (of 30) who are invited to adopt nickname aliases, make choices, and interact with the performers from time to time.

That show is Mac Brock’s Tracks, an ambitious venture by the experimental indie troupe Amoris Projects, supported by the Fringe (and especially by the creative expertise of the Fringe technical smartie Bradley King) and by director Beth Dart.

There were things about going out to the theatre last night I recognized from my vantage point in front my MacBook on my “office” table overlooking the back yard. For one thing, there’s an actual curtain time. So you could actually screw up and be late — a viable reason to get that familiar five minutes-to-curtain stress that’s usually related to misplacing your ticket, or parking. In honour of the occasion, and verisimilitude, I wore actual clothes (it seemed only right). And there’s pre-show music, an airy score by Matthew Cardinal that gives off hints of discernible voices. And, hey, there was a glass of wine (solely, you understand, in honour of opening night). 

Tracks is a play about making a play — from storytelling. It’s a loose-limbed collection of personal “stories” from nine different artists (including playwright Mac Brock) about what kinds of stories they could, or maybe should, be telling as artists. It is self-referential, by very definition: it tracks artists back to their own homes. That’s where we find them gazing out at us, wondering about what they should reveal: Tracks is set, if that’s the right word, on the shifting frontier between art as confession and art as reinvention.

“We’d like to know you’re here,” says the screen, being typed by someone on the spot, then vanishing letter by letter in a visual metaphor you’re bound to appreciate. “Where are you?” wonders the production. “What is your story in three words?”  The second question is, as you might imagine, a lot harder than the first.

I don’t want to spoil your sense of discovery that Tracks sets its collective mind to creating. But I can tell you that Brock’s own introduction and periodic returns — as an endearingly self-doubting quester figure — gives us a glimpse into the tentative, conditional nature of making your own story into art. It takes guts to unearth the meaning in a real-life event or self-destructive thought or reflection. And, as he reveals, it takes guts to share it, without knowing in advance whether the thought will find a receptive resonance with others. “I’m kind of freaking out,” he confesses, alluding to “a mountain of trying….” 

Brock gives us a choice after each of his interventions. At every juncture we can choose to meet this artist or that one, via our typing fingers. I’m being vague on purpose about names. Choose away, for yourselves. But judging by the four high-contrast performers I saw in their homes, they seem to have a wide range of relationships or engagements with the unseen audience, me and 29 others.

performance artist NUIBOI at home, setting up for Tracks. Photo supplied

Here’s a curious thought: If the Tracks performers each live in a theatre, so do you when you’re watching it. In the post-show Zoomed discussion, Mustafa Rafiq amusingly mentioned that since his performance takes place on his bed, he’s taken to sleeping on his own couch. NUIBOI echoed the thought. Part of their place is The Theatre; they live at the moment as a refugee in the remainder.

The most playful and oblique of the performers I saw casts himself, microphone in hand, in classic stand-up comedy configuration for a story of cross-cultural confusion. He even  brings his own laugh track in case we flip off his wave-length.

One is a kind of witty, poetic confession about loneliness and multiple identities, and the way that screws up potential relationships. There’s one performer you never see, physically, except as shapes and sounds, and the play of light and shadow. One is more direct about seeking audience connection: a question-and-answer relationship in which the artist finally emerges from the shadow.

A home set-up for Tracks. Photo supplied.

Seeing the performers at home (Regina-born Brock talks from a room dominated by a prairie landscape) is not just de rigueur at the moment. Dart makes it integral to her fascinating production, which is at pains to emphasize that this is a live experience. And I think you do feel that (with occasional moments, for me, that seem a little obviously an interaction “technique”).

We know the performers are with us, thanks to the smarts of an intriguing venture that had to invent its own way of rehearsing. It’s harder to create the feeling that the rest of the audience is live, too. Is there a real-life “us” when we can’t applaud and hear each other laughing and sighing? It’s our responsibility, as audience members, to make that connection spark and fire, in our written messages. That communication, unspoken, is easy, inevitable almost, in a shared room; it takes more ingenuity in the digital world.

Today I find myself wishing I could rewrite my messages so they’d be better, livelier for my fellow audience members and the performers. This new kind of resourcefulness is a premium when you’re making tracks through a new pandemic world.

12thnight talks to playwright Mac Brock and director Beth Dart HERE.

Tracks

Fringe Theatre Off Season

Theatre: Amoris Productions

Created by: Mac Brock with the ensemble

Directed by: Beth Dart

Starring: Asia Bowman, Mac Brock, Fatmi El Fassi El Fihri, Anthony Hunchak, Moses Kouyaté, Marguerite Lawler, Hayley Moorhouse, NIUBOI, Mustafa Rafiq

Where: your own home

Running: through May 24

Tickets: tickets.fringetheatre.ca

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Sandy Moser: mask-maker to the stars

Sandy Moser, theatre-goer and mask-maker extraordinaire. Photo supplied

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Live theatre gave Sandy Moser the big-M Moment that turned everything around for her. And she’s returning the favour, though she’d never put it that way in a million years.

“What would I be doing otherwise?” she says, an ‘amused shrug in her voice’ (as the stage directions would say, if Sandy were a play instead of a droll 78-year-old). “It was either make masks or wash my walls or clean my base boards.”

actor Mathew Hulshof in his paisley Moser mask.

Since the opening night of the pandemic a couple of months ago, Moser has been a one-person volunteer props department: she’s made some 850 masks, a lot of them for theatre people and all of them free. If the recipients insist on paying, she directs them to donate to a small theatre instead. Moser is on the phone from the Sherwood Park acreage where she’s lived alone since the death of her husband nine years (and 970 plays) ago; “it’s the perfect place if you have to self-isolate!” she laughs. And she’s reflecting on the life-changer that happened in a theatre. 

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 True, Moser is the matriarch of a showbiz line. Her daughter is Calgary-based star actor/ improviser Karen Johnson Diamond; her actor/producer grandson Griffin Cork graduated last spring from U of A theatre school. But her late husband wasn’t a theatre-goer. “After he died, it was ‘what do I do with my life now?’”

Three weeks into her widowhood, a friend, a fellow retired nurse, dragged Moser to Les Miz at Strathcona High School. “O, that could be crappy,” she remembers thinking. “But I’d have gone to a chicken-plucking contest…. And it was magnificent!”

“It hit me: hey, I’m not thinking about me. And that turned everything around,” she says (stage direction: ‘with gusto’). “I want a bed-time story and I want to get out of my life. And then I want to go home and go to bed…. I highly recommend it to any widow.”

“So I just kept going!” says Moser. “I sit in the front row and pretend nobody’s there but me and it’s all for me!”

Actor/ playwright/ director/ musical director Darrin Hagen with Sandy Moser. Photo supplied.

Since that fateful moment, Moser has been out in theatres three or four nights a week, and is beloved by E-town’s theatre crowd for her enthusiasm and loyalty. She’s seen and loved big-budget extravaganzas; she’s seen and loved solo shows in draft-y basements where the actor has shelled out a princely 50 bucks, and she’s shared the house seats with 10 other people. 

Her daughter Karen took her to see War Horse in New York, and Moser adored it (“OK, I can die now!”). She saw Hadestown at the Citadel and loved it. Twice. She saw Daniel MacIvor’s solo show House in a “tiny church basement in Calgary, 12 chairs, the whole room painted black, the actor had one chair and one flashlight. And I was totally blown away!”

She saw 10 shows at Calgary’s Festival of Animated Objects (“I LOVE puppetry!”). One was a “tiny puppet show in a cardboard box in the lobby, for free. One lady and she had a teeny bird puppet, and her fingers were the feet. And it lasted maybe 15 minutes, and she probably spent 10 bucks. And I’ll never forget it!”     

Big budget alone does not in itself great theatre make, a life lesson that isn’t lost on Moser. “And it doesn’t even matter if it’s good: they’ve told you a story. They’ve given you a perspective about what you enjoy and what you don’t….” It’s a view that makes Moser the ideal Fringe audience. “All of it is a learning experience.

Moser loves talking about plays. “Did you see The Zoo Story, the one with Collin Doyle, a couple of Fringes ago? Wonderful! And For Science! (Small Matters Theatre clown science experiment). “Yup, I don’t even need words!”

Big theatre, regularly, is financially prohibitive for her (her daughter-in-law takes her to the Citadel). But she has subscriptions to nearly every little theatre in town. “A seniors subscription to preview night, and you can go for eight bucks. You can’t have a better night out; you can’t get a hot dog out for that,” says Moser, an ambassador for the theatre industry if ever there was one. And she worries about the future of an art form that depends on social proximity for its vital juices.

The last plays she saw before the shutdown, mid-March, were Shadow Theatre’s Heisenberg and Wild Side’s The Children. Then, suddenly, the curtain came crashing down. No more theatre: “That’s what killing me!” she says. “I miss theatre!”

Which brings us to the masks. Not that she’s promoting her skills. By no means. It was Griffin Cork who contacted me about his grandmother’s gift to the theatre community (and others) to my attention. “I’m trying to just be under the radar here, this quiet little old lady in the bush. But you don’t get to be quiet when Griffin’s your grandson,” she sighs.

“I don’t have a lot of money. But I can do this!” Her model was the masks she remembered wearing as a surgical nurse at the U of A Hospital in the ‘50s and ‘60s. Her re-creations have two layers, three pleats, jewellery wire for the nose to get a better seal. “I’m no seamstress,” she says cheerfully. “My first six attempts ended up in the garbage.”

Shadow Theatre’s John Hudson in his new Rocky and Bullwinkle mask. Photo supplied.

Since then, output (and quality) has escalated. And so has the involvement of the family. After one 75-hour week of mask-making her old sewing machine “said No, and said it really loudly.” She’s using her daughter-in-law’s. Her granddaughter Ella, now in grade 11, cuts the wire and elastic; she’d been the official sewer before “lockdown,” while Moser did the cutting. A Calgary costume designer, mailed her 100 yards of of bias tape for the sides of the masks, and big bags of left-over material. Johnson Diamond, who found a supply of skinny elastic in Calgary, has dropped off sacks of extra thread. Nursing classmates of yore have donated postage money.

“If you’re going to have to wear a mask it might as well be fun!” says Moser, of such creations as the Shrek or the Rocky and Bullwinkle mask. Some of her favourite artists, Luc Tellier, Rachel Bowron, Mathew Hulshof among them, sport Moser masks when they go out. Says Tellier “I have a paisley mask for when I want to look fashionable, and a Shrek mask for when I want to look fun!” 

And not just theatre artists, but healthcare, construction, and emergency workers, teachers, seniors… are wearing her masks. Picture this exchange from an abandoned parking lot, a scene that’s a bit Neil Simon, if he’d collaborated with Samuel Beckett: Moser social-distance giving a bag of masks to a friend for distribution. “I’m using my husband’s cane; she’s using a hose extension…. Two old gray-hairs doing a drug deal. It’s hilarious!”

“It gives me a great reason to get up,” she says modestly of her labours. “I’m my own boss; nobody can get mad at me if I’m late.” 

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Tracks: choose your route in an online theatre adventure from Amoris Projects

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

It started out as an ambulatory theatre adventure. Tracks let its audiences loose to wander in an unexpected assortment of rooms and spaces — a theatre box office, dressing rooms, bathrooms, the playwright’s car — to eavesdrop on intimate moments, the kind people don’t usually share.

A home set-up, one of nine, for Tracks. Photo supplied

Then came a pandemic, and an age of enforced isolation: a time in human history when alienation isn’t just something you drift into if you’re maladjusted, but something deliberate. And Tracks has morphed. In this new world of disconnection, what would become of Mac Brock’s immersive theatre experiment, a demo of the liveness of live theatre if ever there was one? Could a piece based on dropping into different rooms rubbing elbows with the performers still connect in lively, meaningful ways with its audience when the performers can’t ever be in the same room with each other, much less with you the theatre-goer?

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We’re about to find out. Born at Nextfest and slated for a live run in Fringe Theatre’s official Off Season this month, Tracks leaves the great big global station called The Internet Tuesday, transformed. The play, which won the 2019 Westbury Family Fringe Theatre Award, now travels in a form specially invented for the online world. You follow it along diverse tracks you choose, on an original, live, interactive platform that Brock, director Beth Dart, and Fringe techno whiz Bradley King have had to create specially for the occasion. And you’ll find yourself en route to nine very different home “theatres” and nine personal stories performed by the diverse ensemble of artists, including Brock himself. 

The “dream transformation” of Tracks wasn’t something Brock could have predicted, he says. “My instinct was ‘let’s press Pause and come back to this later’.

Brock, who arrived in Edmonton from his home town Regina in 2017 (his day job is media and communications at the Citadel), credits the adventurous spirit of Dart, “the first person I called as soon as I needed a director … so insightful, experienced and wise in figuring out new rules of engagement.” 

Dart, along with her sister Megan Dart and their cutting-edge indie company Catch The Keys (creators of the annual Dead Centre of Town productions), are go-to specialists in rattling and reconfiguring the conventional relationship between stage and audience. The immediate Dart impulse, Brock reports happily, was ‘this is not a hurdle; this is an opportunity. We get to figure this out and do something great with it!”

“Wild!” says Dart of the creation, design, and rehearsal process the team, some 20 people strong, have invented, like the digital platform itself, at every step. Brock, whose play Boy Trouble opened the 2019 Nextfest lineup, has a contagious kind of effervescence about him: the results, he says, are “beyond our wildest dreams!”.

A home set-up for Tracks. Photo supplied.

In its first incarnation, Tracks “directed audience members to walk to different rooms. Now we’re making buttons appear. and  different pages, different streams …” he says. What Tracks is not is an invitation to watch archival video footage of a pre-existing stage performance. “This is still very much a live performance. The performers are there with you (from their own homes), at every performance. And they want to know that you’re there!”

“Mac created the through-line, from a series of short scenes he wrote in 2017, to revisit how we place value on ourselves and our creative work, how we decide what’s worthy to be presented to the public,” as Dart explains. “When the pandemic hit, we decided there’s actually not a better piece to adapt itself to this situation….”

“There are snippets from the original piece,” she says. “But it’s specially crafted for this platform that we are ourselves just discovering as we create.” King, the Fringe’s highly creative systems analyst, developed a website for Tracks that “offers the streams that we are creating: we are SO lucky to have him….” Brock concurs, vigorously. “We struck gold with Bradley!”

Dart explains. “The audience meets Mac, and at certain moments in his journey he presents them with options, and they can choose which tracks to follow.” The performers aren’t really “characters,” not in the usual sense, she says. “Each has created a solo piece that’s very personal; they’re performing as … themselves.”

“It doesn’t feel like acting,” laughs Brock. “My portion of the show feels a lot more like telling a story to a certain number of friends who are maybe watching the internet. Very personal. Very intimate.…Everyone has created a piece in their own home that feels like an element of their life they want to share. You feel you’re a fly on the wall in their lives. And there are so many inventive ways of letting the audience into their world: comedy, music, dance, visual arts…. Such a range of creative backgrounds and experience in creating theatre.”

Actors, performance artists, sound artists, visual artists … the ensemble runs the gamut. “They’re such accomplished and polished artists whose own stories have never been seen by an audience,” says Brock of his cast-mates. “How are these people not the ones you see every single day on our biggest stages?!”

The need for re-invention has extended to every aspect of Tracks, including rehearsing on Zoom, where a four-hour session feels as long as 10 in-person hours in real space, says Dart. “Your eyes cross!”

“We gather together online for a check-in at the beginning of our rehearsal day. And I send the cast out to break-out rooms. Mac and I bounce from room to room, working on dramaturgy or scene development, or whatever. It’s been bizarre!”

performance artist NUIBOI at home, setting up for Tracks. Photo supplied

Stage manager Izzy Bergquist has had to reinvent what that job means. Since the cast performs in their homes, designers Elise Jason and Even Gilchrist have created design packages — lighting instruments, sound equipment, microphones, cameras, backdrops, props — for nine very different spaces (“nine tiny home-shaped theatres,” as Dart puts it). And production manager Frances Girard spent last week driving them around, and dropping them off, “contact-less deliveries à la Skip the Dishes,” says Brock. There have been Zoom meetings to talk the performers through “how to install the set design in their basement or their apartment….”

“We’ve all had to become our own stage managers, our own technicians, our own sound designers. And the designers can’t come and trouble-shoot.… Terrifying!” As it rolls along, Track has gathered other collaborators — movement specialists, sound consultants, composer/musician Erik Mortimer, who’s provided underscoring.

A set design kit for Tracks. Photo supplied.

Brock sighs. “Our team has never been in the same space — we never had a full cast meeting before this started. And we won’t for a long time.”

For Dart and Brock, the main challenge has been “how to create that sense of liveness with an audience that isn’t in the room with us,” says the former. “We might have an argument about calling this ‘theatre’,” Dart concedes. “But it’s definitely live.”

What does audience interaction mean in the digital world? “We approach from lots of different angles,” says Dart. “Sometimes the audience (a maximum of 30 per performance) type in responses, or play games with performers…. You’ll be able to tell that the performers are in live time, and there are moments of integrating audience feedback. Lots of options and possibilities.”

If the term “audience participation” gives you a frisson of quease, fear not. “Some pieces are very interactive, some not at all,” she says. “But we’re never expecting the audience to turn on their cameras or be part of a scene!” And you can never get lost in digital wonderland. “You’ll always be able to find yourself back to where you’re supposed to be!”

Dart says “I truly believe theatre belongs in real space. And there’s an element of the creative process lost when you don’t get to share space together. But this is a way we can offer a sense of connectedness and community in the situation in which we find ourselves.”

“It’s a giant experiment,” she says. “And everyone has embraced it…. Artists have a beautiful way to offer something other than isolation, whether live-stream concerts or phone-call poetry readings. We can all use a little connection right now!”

PREVIEW

Tracks

Fringe Theatre Off Season

Theatre: Amoris Productions

Created by: Mac Brock with the ensemble

Directed by: Beth Dart

Starring: Asia Bowman, Mac Brock, Fatmi El Fassi El Fihri, Anthony Hunchak, Moses Kouyaté, Marguerite Lawler, Hayley Moorhouse, NIUBOI, Mustafa Rafiq

Where: your own home

Running: May 19 to 24

Tickets: tickets.fringetheatre.ca

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New faces in theatre: six up-and-comers you’ll be watching when the doors open. Here’s actor Josh Travnik

They’re young. They shine brightly. And their talents are already lighting up the Edmonton theatre scene. 12thnight talked to six starry and sought-after up-and-comers, artists whose work, on- and backstage, will have a big impact on theatre here when the doors are open again, and we can once more share the live experience.

Meet actor Josh Travnik.  And look for the others in this continuing 12thnight.ca New Faces series. First up was actor Helen Belay; then designer Alison Yanota, stage manager Isabel (Izzy) Bergquist, actors Chris Pereira and Bella King.

Cinderella (Bella King) and her step-sisters Corben Kushneryk and Josh Travnik, Fort Edmonton Park. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

JOSH TRAVNIK, actor

If you ventured down to the river valley at Fort Edmonton this past Christmas, and caught Jocelyn Ahlf’s panto Cinderella, you’d have been tickled to see a veritable showcase of young talent at work in Kate Ryan’s cast: Bella King, Cameron Chapman, Corben Kushneryk — with Josh Travnik as one of the snarky, eminently hiss-able step-sisters, Poutine by name, always on her cell taking selfies.

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In Travnik, now 24, you were watching a theatre veteran of a dozen years or more — one whose skills and aptitude for developing and supporting new work, especially musical theatre, are very Edmonton.

The best training to do a panto,” Travnik declares, is touring with Alberta Musical Theatre, which takes its clever contemporary musical versions of fairy tales on the road. “If you can play to 400 kids, with the first two rows from kindergarten, who want to climb into the trunk onstage….” The touring AMT production of Pinocchio in which he and his friend Chapman each played 14 characters did a record 312 performances on tour a season ago.

Pinocchio, Alberta Opera. Photo by Mat Simpson.

“There was as much choreography happening backstage as on,” laughs Travnik, who describes a schedule in which the cast might leave at 5:30 a.m. for a morning gig in, say, Red Deer, and drive back to town for a 1:30 p.m. matinee here. “The hardest work I’ve ever done,” he says happily.

Travnik’s Fringe premiere — or “my first big Fringe year,” as he puts it more poetically — was in a new original musical hung on an intriguing premise: (semicolon) the musical (by Daniel Belland, Calla Wright, Conar Kennedy).

“I was immediately hooked!” declares an actor who, in punctuational terms, is actually more of an exclamation mark than a semicolon. “What a great start to my Fringe performance career — with an original musical! You’ve already done the scariest thing you could possibly do!” 

That was Travnik at 15, some nine years ago. And suddenly, there he was, in Straight Edge musicals like Ordinary Days, Bat Boy, Evil Dead The Musical. And he was in an assortment of wigs playing an assortment of characters, including raven-tressed Ronnie, in Rebecca Merkley’s River City The Musical, her clever extrapolation from the Archie comic characters.

Before and since, Travnik, who grew up in Leduc, has been adding to a resumé impressively full of musicals, both the off-centre and the brand new, often by a circle of multi-talented friends, including Daniel Belland and Calla Wright. “So creative, yes! And they’ve always had a spot for me. It’s the biggest blessing I could ever have….” says Travnik, the most supportive of ensemble players.

Rivercity the Musical. Photo by BB Photography

“I feel blessed to work with people who are so collaborative, excited by any offers I might make. I listen to a lot of pop music, and love singing it, and I like adding riffs here and there. The people I work with are very open to that.”

“I grew up with a lot of music in the house,” says Travnik of his childhood in Leduc. You’ve got to suspect that the staff of the Leduc library remember the kid who’d always head straight to the drawer where they kept the musicals. “All they had were compilation albums,” Travnik laughs. Les Miz, Phantom, Lloyd Webber everywhere…. So I’d request every original cast album, and they wouldn’t have it, and they’d buy it for me! I’d be very specific: the Gypsy album, but the one with Bernadette Peters.”

His first introduction to theatre “of any kind” was the Christmas plays at church, “scripts with pre-recorded backing tracks. I was just obsessed…. “ He was one of the Wise Men, a trio that included Elvis and Garth Brooks. Travnik played the latter.

But the real turning point wasn’t Oklahoma! or Annie; it was Shakespeare. The 12-year-old Travnik found himself at the Freewill Shakespeare Festival: “after that I didn’t miss a single year…. Camp Shakespeare was the highlight of my summer. We’d be learning (scenes), we’d be running around on the set. Just magic!”

“Being able to see the productions first, before having to read them, that was the best possible introduction! And such joyful productions.”

In response to this inspiration, Travnik and friends, including playwright/directors Belland and Wright, started a youth company of their own. Celsius Youth Theatre mounted full productions of Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Twelfth Night among them, in community halls. “One of us would be the director; one would edit; we’d build a set and costumes.”

Josh Travnik as Feste in The Wind and the Rain. Photo supplied.

Two years ago, Travnik co-starred in Wright’s The Wind And The Rain, an original dark comedy-with-music that toured Fringes. Two Shakespeare fools, the Fool from King Lear and Feste from Twelfth Night are together in “the last theatre in the world, as it’s being demolished.”

Travnik arrived at MacEwan University’s musical theatre-driven theatre arts at 22, trailing a long and impressive resumé. He was part of the graduating class of 2018 that broke in the new Triffo Theatre with Sister Act (“a blast! so many nuns came to see the show, and they had a great time!”).

If the world hadn’t changed so dramatically, Travnik would be looking at a busy summer, first in Teatro La Quindicina’s revival of Everybody Goes To Mitzi’s in July. And then Merkley’s new Fringe show Scooby Don’t in August, now on hold along with the festival till the summer of 2021. Meanwhile, he and Belland are writing pop songs, and figuring out how to produce a quality single online. “We do the video on Zoom, the audio on a direct streaming service and chat on Google,” hs says. “It’s fun and exciting to be creating something outside our theatre practice; it’s keeping us sane and happy.” 

“What drove me crazy the first couple of weeks (of isolation) was the feeling that everything I was doing wasn’t up to par…. It’s all about finding a way to create without the pressure to make it perfect, when you don’t have the resources….” 

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New faces in theatre: six bright newcomers. The series continues with triple-threat Bella King

They’re young. They shine brightly. And their talents are already lighting up the Edmonton theatre scene. 12thnight talked to six starry and sought-after up-and-comers, artists whose work, on- and backstage, will have a big impact on theatre here when the doors are open again, and we can once more share the live experience.

Meet actor Bella King. And look for the others in this continuing 12thnight.ca New Faces series. First up was actor Helen Belay; then designer Alison Yanota, stage manager Isabel (Izzy) Bergquist, and actor Chris Pereira

 

Bella King in Fun Home, Plain Jane Theatre. Photo by Mat Busby.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

BELLA KING, actor

If you saw Plain Jane’s award-winning production of the landmark musical Fun Home (and if you didn’t you really should have), you’ll smile to think of the knockout moment when Bella King delivers the showstopper Changing My Major.

In the scant four minutes of a song, the college girl played by King shared a whole story of self-discovery and wonder, about the world and about herself: “I’m changing my major to Joan….”

One of our discoveries at that moment of unexpected buoyancy was a startling new triple-threat. King, who graduated from MacEwan University’s theatre department two years ago, has a voice with dramatic expressive angles to it, and a natural and charismatic honesty and warmth in creating a character — all on display in Dave Horak’s production of Fun Home.   

Bella King as Cinderella, Fort Edmonton Park. Photo supplied.

“It wasn’t a hard sing,” she says of the character, the middle of Fun Home’s three Alisons, who discovers she’s gay about the same time she discovers the same thing about her late father. “So much heightened emotion and coping with trauma — that was the hard part….” More than a few audience members stayed behind, in tears, after the show, “moved, think, by Alison’s relationship with her father, and her relationship with her queerness — and the discovery that parents are people who had lives before us. A  weird thing to think about; the  choice to break out of that and not live the same life as they did.”

King, now 23, was your classic musical theatre kid. “I watched all the old Disney movies, the original Annie….” When the nine-year-old King saw Phantom of the Opera, “it just blew my mind! I couldn’t believe a chandelier could fall on a stage; it was just the craziest thing I’d ever seen. My mom bought me the big fancy program; I brought it to school to show all my friends.” She still has this precious showbiz artifact, “wrinkled, completely worn in.”

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Considering the inevitability at play, King had a tough entry point into theatre.“From eight to 16 I had really really bad stage fright,” she says of the residue from a humiliating school incident. Auditioning was a nightmare prospect. King gritted her teeth: “I remember so clearly I knew I had to do it…. It’s one of the times in my life when the need overcame the fear.”

At MacEwan, King tended to get cast as “the innocent, the inexperienced teenager,” as she laughs. In Sister Act, the musical that opened MacEwan’s spanky new Triffo Theatre — “a crazy whirlwind, in a ‘down to the wire but it worked’ kind of way — she was the young nun postulant who delivers the show’s most wistful what-am-I-missing? song, The Life I Never Led.

Bella King, left, Matt Graham, Michael Vetsch, Karina Cox in [title of show]. Photo by bb collective.

Even in [title of show], the self-referential Off-Broadway musical about a musical that was King’s first production after graduating, “I played the character who hadn’t done theatre before….”  It was my first Fringe experience, and it was perfect! Doing what you love, and doing it will all of your friends…. I love the Fringe!” declares King. 

And for innocence, Cinderella might be the ultimate wide-eyed ingenue. In Jocelyn Ahlf’s sassy panto version of the fairy tale, which played the Capitol Theatre at Fort Edmonton this past Christmas, King was “the inexperienced teenager,” she laughs. “Very smart and confident, but not in a confrontational way. She was very stuck…”

Cinderella and her step-sisters, Fort Edmonton Park. Photo supplied.

The panto experience of playing to an audience that doesn’t have to shut up and be well-behaved comes attached to a certain kind of terror, you’d think, especially for a stage fright survivor. “It was both enjoyable and terrifying!” King laughs, remembering her character, decked out as Cinderella in “giant white winter boots, leggings, plaid shirt, puffy white vest.” Kids would try to crawl up onstage; some annotated; some gave Cinderella helpful advice: “wake up! he’s Prince Charming!”

Musicals are a gravitational force field for King. “I just love the storytelling that happens through music; I love singing with a big band behind you, pushing you. Very powerful.” She’s been in two Fringe musicals with Straight Edge Theatre. One was new (and working on something new has its own kind of thrill she says): Imaginary Friend, an original by Daniel Belland (“very silly, very raunchy, an invisible friend who’s an outsized demon that wreaks havoc among a whole family….So much fun!”). One was a contemporary classic, Jason Robert Brown’s The Last Five Years,  which tells its story of a relationship in reverse chronology, with the two characters on separate tracks.

Bella King, Mathew Lindhollm, Kendra Humphrey, Jaimi Reese in Imaginary Friend. Photo by Kaylin Schenkl

King has plans, some on hold for the summer of course (“I’m being hopeful but realistic”), and some longer term. A dream musical? “I’d love to do Vanities,” she says without hesitation. “It’s based on a play, about the friendship between three girls and how it changes through high school, college, post-college after graduation…. Three women, pop-rock, a perfect Fringe show.”

There’s nothing like a pandemic to reinforce the notion that all plans are contingent, hypothetical, ephemeral as air.  “Anything can happen! You can have plans, and your plans can not happen,” says King, with a sadder-but-wiser shrug in her voice. But there’s this: “I can’t even imagine what the first show back (when theatre doors open) will be like.… People will be so excited, so happy to be back together!”    

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New faces in theatre, six up-and-comers to watch: meet actor Chris Pereira

They’re young. They shine brightly. And their talents are already lighting up the Edmonton theatre scene. 12thnight talked to six starry and sought-after up-and-comers, artists whose work, on- and backstage, will have a big impact on theatre here when the doors are open again, and we can once more share the live experience.

Meet actor Chris Pereira. And look for the others in this continuing 12thnight.ca New Faces series. First up was actor Helen Belay; then designer Alison Yanota and stage manager Isabel (Izzy) Bergquist. 

Chris Pereira and Shannon Blanchet in The Bald Soprano, Bright Young Things. Photo by Mat Busby.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

CHRIS PEREIRA, actor

If you had the fun of catching the Bright Young Things’ Fringe production of the absurdist groundbreaker The Bald Soprano last summer, you’ll appreciate the daffy synchronicity of Chris Pereira’s anecdote.

In the play a fire chief shows up in the scene in full regalia even though there isn’t a fire (only the vague possibility of one at some indeterminate future moment). Pereira, in full costume, is walking in the backstage hall of the Varscona Theatre, waiting to go on. The theatre management assumes the fire marshall has come to do an official inspection, and panics accordingly.

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You can only think that the playwright Eugene Ionesco would have smacked his lips. The Bald Soprano is a veritable seminar in the fine art of nonsense, language unhinged from logic. Motivation? Back story? Pereira, very droll in conversation, laughs. The trick, he says, “is to not dwell on it too much or you’ll ruin it…. You just enjoy the ride!”

Chris Pereira in Middletown, Studio Theatre. Photo by Ed Ellis.

It took him three years to get into the U of A theatre school (he gathered a resumé that includes commercials and movies). Since he graduated last April, after a Studio Theatre season that included Will Eno’s hauntingly oddball Middletown (the role of the mechanic was a “peak experience” for him) and Jordan Tannahill’s Concord Floral, Pereira has caught the attention of artistic directors of companies of every size across town. 

As it happens, Pereira’s year has been a cross-section of comedy, in all its variegated colour palette, and his expertise and timing are striking. It started with Theatre Prospero’s touring production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream; he played one of the young lovers lost in the enchanted wood of romance. Then a delightful summer with Ionesco, a cuckoo clock of absurd moments, including “my long monologue about a weird family tree, five minutes about absolutely nothing!” He credits Bright Young Things’ artistic director Belinda Cornish, who’s applauded his talents to an assortment of Edmonton theatres, “with the vast majority of my work this year!”

Andrew MacDonald-Smith, Belinda Cornish, Helen Belay, Chris Pereira in Vidalia, Teatro La Quindicina. Photo by Mat Busby.

Teatro La Quindicina’s sparkly revival of the Stewart Lemoine screwball Vidalia had Pereira as suit salesman Doug who finds himself entangled in a wild espionage plot for reasons he can’t even begin to fathom: “a regular person, descending into madness,” as Pereira puts it. “I read the script and laughed so hard….”

Lemoinian comedy, he found, is a particular style, a combination of breezy and grave, “very smart-funny, that requires a very very precise way of going at it,” says Pereira. “You can’t really play for the laughs.” His cast-mates included fellow Lemoine newcomer Helen Belay, as well as Teatro veterans Cornish and Andrew MacDonald-Smith: “two Lemoine experts to watch, so kind in always helping us out, getting us accustomed to the style.”

Chris Pereira and Mathew Hulshof in Bed and Breakfast, Theatre Network. Photo by Ian Jackson, Epic Photography

In Bed and Breakfast at Theatre Network, in which Pereira co-starred with Mathew Hulshof, you saw two actors expertly play a couple who conjure between them, with great precision, nearly two dozen characters, all ages, genders, sexual persuasions, populating the year they spend in a small town, reinventing their very urban lives. “An important message that blends in perfectly, with characters you can get behind,”  says Pereira. And the quick changes make it “a very challenging show, one of the hardest ever…. I had to keep it simple for myself, to pick one gesture, one way of (moving), one voice — three simple things per character.” 

An Edmonton kid, Pereira, now 28, was the odd-person out at his sports high school (“my one and only high school play” was the musical Back To The ‘80s). He’s already started down the path through the woods towards showbiz, age nine. At Theatre Zocalo, Pereira was “dad in Hansel and Gretel, with a cardboard and cotton ball beard…. I was taller and older than some of the kids.”

Belinda Cornish and Chris Pereira, The Comedy of Errors, Freewill Shakespeare Festival. Photo by Ryan Parker.

The next year, in a startling long jump through the theatre repertoire (as he laughs), he’d graduated to Shakespeare, as Demetrius in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Ah, experience that may or may not have impinged on his two summers much later with the Freewill Shakespeare Festival, in The Merchant of Venice and The Merry Wives of Windsor in 2017 and The Comedy of Errors and Hamlet the following year.

Chris Pereira, Freewill Shakespeare Festival. Photo by Ryan Parker

Like so many actors of every age in this theatre town, the Fringe figures prominently in Pereira’s experience. He started in 2013, and he’s added sound design to his actorly skill set. And he and Eric Smith have their own company Get Off The Stage with an appetite for edgy, challenging fare; they picked Martin McDonagh’s macabre black comedy A Behanding in Spokane and David Mamet’s provocative Oleanna. If the times had been different (a phrase that comes up a lot in when you’re talking to theatre artists), he’d be missing the Fringe for the first time since 2013 to be in Rosebud this summer, in a stage production of Chariots of Fire. He was working, both as an actor and a sound designer, on the new Collin Doyle play Signs for Concrete Theatre when the shutdown happened. 

“That’s where I find comfort,” says Pereira. “We’re all in this together….”

Meanwhile, he’s filming himself for auditions for the upcoming theatre season, and dreaming of the future. “I would be very very happy if I could build a career working in theatre in Edmonton,” he says. “But one of my goals since I was a kid, for the majority of my life, was film.” He’ll be trying to weave a career with both threads.   

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New faces in theatre: behind the scenes with stage manager Isabel Bergquist

They’re young. They shine brightly. And their talents are already lighting up the Edmonton theatre scene. 12thnight talked to six starry and sought-after up-and-comers, artists whose work, on- and backstage, will have a big impact on theatre here when the doors are open again, and we can once more share the live experience.

Meet stage manager Isabel Bergquist. And look for the others in this continuing 12thnight.ca New Faces series. First up was actor Helen Belay; then designer Alison Yanota.  

Stage manager Isabel Bergquist. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

ISABEL (Izzy) BERGQUIST, stage manager

If you caught a pair of entwined political comedies at the Citadel last year, you’ve got to have wondered how on earth The Party and The Candidate could be running at the same time, with the same 10 actors playing the same characters nine months apart, in two different theatres. Behind the satirical stingers whizzing by onstage was a high-speed behind-the-scenes farce, itself an achievement in precision timing and logistics.

Martha Burns and Amber Lewis (front), Glenn Nelson, Jesse Lipscombe, Thom Allison (rear) in The Candidate, Citadel Theatre. Photo by Ryan Parker

This lunatic timetable and a daunting sheaf of organizational charts were the work of a team of crack enablers (with stopwatches and high stress thresholds) — among them an apprentice who’s steadily becoming one of this theatre town’s most sought-after stage managers.

“Problem-solving, negotiation, what the costume needs are, what the prop needs are, where we are with the pre-set, lots of being on your toes and improvising….” The job backstage at The Party in the Citadel’s Rice Theatre that Isabel Bergquist happily describes is complicated in itself. Then synchronizing it to the milli-second with another production, the multi-door farce The Candidate in the Maclab, makes air traffic control look like a yawn. “We worked as a cohesive unity, and it was thrilling!” It was, she says, a tangible reminder of “the real joy and privilege of a live experience….”

Isabel Bergquist. Photo supplied

The route by which Bergquist has found herself in the stage management brigade, with its rarefied skill set, is mysterious — not least to her. “A fluke, really!” says the 2018 U of A Fine Arts grad in stage management. She was never the kid who sang along to show tunes and pined to be in the limelight centrestage. “I fell into theatre.. I just thought it was sort of magical. What attracted me as a 13-year-old was the community element; the sense of family really hooked me in.”

Bergquist’s first gig out of university was Nextfest, Theatre Network’s celebration of emerging artists, where, in a total immersion experience, stage managers do everything. At large-scale operations like the Citadel, the duties, calibrated among the stage manager, the assistants, the apprentices, are much more rigidly parsed, as defined by the Equity system. For a couple of seasons, Bergquist has been apprenticing at the Citadel on big productions like As You Like It and A Christmas Carol, as well as at the Freewill Shakespeare Festival and Opera Nuova. And for the last two years Bergquist has stage managed Alberta Musical Theatre’s original musical fairy tales as they prepare for the public launch of their exceedingly long tours. “Really fun!” she says. 

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Opera director Brian Deedrick appreciates Bergquist’s calm expertise. “She was still a student when we worked together at Opera Nuova, and yet she already had the brilliant organizational and empathetic skills needed for a great stage manager: I’d happily share a rehearsal hall with her any time, anywhere….”

“I feel like I don’t really fit the mould,” says Bergquist, an exuberant and thoughtful sort.  “Stage managers are fairly to themselves, not seeking attention, quiet…. I love people; I love to make them laugh; I’m kind of loud!”

The job, she thinks, asks that “you be open and receptive to everything at play. For sure, patience is required…. You find ways to be respectful but also have boundaries.” And in a world of big personalities and outsized, fragile egos, the stage manager “also requires a certain amount of social awarenesses … grounded in kindness I think.”

As every stage manager knows, the odd outburst and tantrum isn’t exactly unheard of in theatre. “I try to hold my ground and not really engage…. Normally I’m met with sincere apology,” she says genially. The idea is not to forget that “it’s a big thing that’s being created, with a lot of moving pieces and a lot of people. It’s not about me. Or them. It’s about storytelling.”

“She laughs. “Sometimes I do have to bite my tongue.”

Bergquist has role models, Kerry Johnston, Molly Pearson, Beth Dart, and Wayne Paquette among them. Some are specialists; others have diversified into other career paths. Since the stage manager is involved with the script in all its minutiae, as well as acting and directing, exploring direction or dramaturgy isn’t a leap into the wild blue yonder. Bergquist is up for that. “Stage management feels like part of my career, not all of it….My ideal of a fulfilling life is a variety,” she says.

With theatre doors shut for an indeterminate time, Bergquist has put her plan to go abroad and explore arts communities elsewhere — Belgium, the Netherlands, Scotland for a couple of years — on Pause. She looks on the bright side (another stage manager trait): “OK, instead of six days a week, 10 hours a day, it’s an opportunity to read plays, find stories and art that matter to me.”

And Bergquist is even finding out, first-hand, what online stage management looks like, in a production of Mac Brock’s Tracks, slated originally for a May run in Fringe Theatre’s Off-Season lineup. It’s not like there’s a guidebook for pandemical transformations; she’s inventing as she goes.

   

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