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Good Weed

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written for the issue published February 12, 2009.

If you’re looking for a novelty cannabis item to flaunt your mania for marijuana, but have grown sick of seeing the typical leaf labels everywhere, why not wear the plant’s genetic fingerprint instead? Yes, the good folks at www.MaryJaneGoods.com have identified marijuana’s DNA profile, extrapolated and enlivened it, and plastered the image on everything from coffee cups to clothing.

So what exactly is a “genetic fingerprint” or “DNA profile”? Quite simply, it’s the seemingly random arrangement of bars the lab-rats on shows like CSI stare at all day long. Darrin Grandmason, the founder of MaryJane Goods and a student of advanced microbiology, discovered the marketing power of genetic fingerprints after a client requested DNA profiles of common household spices through his DNA artistry company. Inspired, Darrin retrieved the genetic mark of marijuana, applied the results to canvas, and founded MaryJane Goods to sell his new art.

All the products MaryJane Goods sell feature an iteration of cannabis’ genetic fingerprint prominently displayed. While it certainly advertises the consumers love for the plant, it does so in a fairly innocuous way. The image of the marijuana leaf is iconic and universal, whereas the image of colourful bars is more abstract and perhaps even more artistic. It’s a fairly discrete way to show your love for everyone’s favourite psychoactive hallucinogen.

DNA artistry isn’t limited to the marijuana consumer market though. Entrepreneurs have found success taking the genetic fingerprint of a client’s significant other and turning the mark into meaningful mementos dear to the person’s heart. In fact, anything organic or natural has a genetic fingerprint, a mark DNA artists would be all too happy to immortalize (if the price is right, of course).

The appeal of DNA art certainly isn’t for everyone, and the cynic will doubtlessly be unimpressed. The difference between the genetic fingerprints of marijuana and, let’s say, a tulip, are presumably minute. When you get right down to it, what you’re paying for is a collection of arbitrary lines assembled with no distinct meaning unless you’re a microbiologist yourself. The colourful lines sure are pretty, but they don’t immediately stand for much else.

Darrin’s Cannabis art is available only through www.MaryJaneGoods.com.

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Jerry Springer: The Opera (Performance Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written for the issue published January 29, 2009.

“I laughed so hard I accidentally broke wind!” - A writer for the Toronto Star who probably has trouble tying his shoes, on Jerry Springer: The Opera

Perhaps my inability to laugh at any one of the many “jokes” hurled fromJerry Springer: The Opera is a symbol not of how uptight and conservative I am, but of how irreversibly jaded I’ve become. Someone says “Jerry Springer,” and what do you think of? Racism, fetishism, blasphemy, rednecks, and titty tassels no doubt. Jerry Springer: The Opera offers most of these things, and takes it a step further by putting it to music. Not operatic music, to my supreme dismay. The type of music you’d expect from Rent, or Footloose, which leads me to believe that Jerry Springer: The Musical would’ve been a better title. But why debate misnomers when there is a mountain of garbage to trudge through?

When analyzing Jerry Springer, the absence of a plot is actually a point in its favour, which is an immediate sign that you have to judge the show by a different set of standards. Actually, you have to reverse almost every single expectation of what is deemed good in order forJerry Springer: The Opera to qualify for anything remarkable. You don’t demand a plot when you watch Jerry Springer, so the fact that there is a moral to the proceedings outside of the trademark “final thought” strikes me as rather perplexing. The same can be said for the tight scripting and staging; these are things you never expect from Springer, and their presence is not welcome.

So the perpetually disaffected Jerry Springer is emceeing yet another hillbilly circus. Cheating lovers, transsexuals, men in diaper, etc. he is pretty much just going through the motions with a typical wry disposition. But curiously, in between commercial breaks a spiteful little valkyrie pops up and tries to appeal to Jerry’s better nature for absolutely no reason in particular, except maybe to alert the part of the audience that didn’t read the pre-show programme that there is something transcendental waiting in the shadows. At the end of the first half, diaper man shoots Jerry in the chest because apparently he had difficulty aiming for the glittering Ku Klux Klan members standing two feet to the left of Jerry. Curtain drops to signify intermission, and Jerry goes to hell where all the delightful blasphemy, curiously absent up until this point, makes an appearance. Turns out Satan wants Springer to mediate a special episode of biblical proportions in his fiery abode.

I’m willing to concede to the possibility that it might have been an off night for the cast, but Jerry Springer: The Opera feels fundamentally flawed in the core design of the performance. What makes an episode of Jerry Springer an amusing guilty pleasure is not present here, and this is largely due to the limitations of the theatrical medium. While the scenarios on the television show are certainly preconceived, the execution is much more visceral and immediate. Punches are thrown, clothes are torn, accidental nudity is a common phenomenon, and the cameraman (and your perspective by extension) is caught in the midst of it. In a theatre, you are resigned to a seat that is too far away from the action to be involving. This jarring distance does not make for the intended guttural reaction.

Additionally, exhausting attempts at operatic singing serves to exacerbate and not alleviate the glaring flaws in the production, if not because it makes the audience second guess the dialogue than because coarse language is not meant to be sung. Fuck, shit, cock, and other similar words are repeatedly attempted to be sung in lengthened duration while changing pitch. The curse word is a word that is linguistically brief and is designed to be short, punchy and abrasive, not held in high squeals for agonizing seconds. Combined with many a failed harmony and a mismatched pit band, it becomes a complete aural disaster.

“Controversial” seems to be a hot word for describing the show, but there’s hardly anything controversial about it. It’s crude and laden with foul language, but it doesn’t go deeper than that. To be controversial would imply that there is an idea to be challenged or a question to be posed. There is nothing of that sort, except for a single solitary line Jerry speaks at the beginning of the second act: “A broadcaster of lesser experience might feel somewhat responsible.” Coincidentally, this line marked the only time I cracked a bit of a smile. Everything else is common offense, and that’s not a very hard aspiration to meet. “I HATE NIGGERS” is an offense, or possibly a scene from a Die Hard movie, but it’s not a controversy.

I really wanted to like Jerry Springer: The Opera, but it’s just too grating and too obnoxious to be of any real entertainment.

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Don’t Look (Performance Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written for the issue published January 15, 2009.

It could be argued that in today’s ever progressive society, all manner of taboos are being shattered as if there is a high score to be achieved. It all started with those damn hippies a generation ago, and now prime-time animated irreverence is attempting to break down walls on an almost weekly basis. While socially accepting what was once a forbidden subject might seem like a step in the right direction, you have to keep in mind that a veritable well of comedic material is dried up every time the masses decide that bizarre fetish #4082 is appropriate. What’s the next taboo on the chopping block? Incest (or in this case, ‘Cousin Couples’).

Remember that scene in the last episode of the second season of Arrested Development where George Michael and his cousin passionately kiss? Well of course you don’t because no one watched the show and it ended up being cancelled. But for the few of you who do know what I’m talking about, just imagine that scene supremely exaggerated and about an hour longer, and you have a good idea of the “Don’t Look” experience.

“Don’t Look” is a refreshing incest comedy/drama conceived in part by UofT alumni Rebecca Applebaum, who also stars in the play as Ariella, a young woman with a lifelong and socially crippling crush on her cousin.

At the funeral of their late Aunt some ten years ago, adolescent cousins Daniel and Ariella decide to act on their burgeoning feelings for each other in the basement of the reception. Mistaking the sound of footsteps for their racing hearts, the two cousins are oblivious to the impending humiliation associated with knowing all too late that someone is about to walk in on you. Severely traumatized after that fateful night, the two stayed away from each other and attempted to move on with their lives while trying to come to grips with what they see as “perversions.”

There are only two actors in the play, both playing their main role as well as occasionally donning an extra bit of clothing (such as a pair of glasses or a jacket) to portray a secondary character. In the meat of the play, the design is such that one cousin will always be on stage while the other plays their current romantic interest. This arrangement is easily reversed to focus on the other half of the story, which is where the parallel narrative aspect comes into effect. This element works very well and is executed seamlessly. Not only that, it creates a tight pace and makes boredom an impossibility.

Speaking with Rebecca after the performance, she admitted that her theatre experience was rather limited while at University College. She was a member of the varsity swim team, and only pursued drama on the side, occasionally attending the odd workshop and eventually working with the drama society. There wasn’t much outside of that, although she does wish she had done more.

Her feelings towards the subject matter? “It’s all exaggerated,” she said. “None of this is based on our experiences, and it’s really interchangeable with any other taboo.” Indeed it’s not that difficult to imagine a different taboo or shameful experience standing in for a moment of incest. Since a debilitating humiliation is what ties the narrative together, to substitute kissing your cousin with being addicted to geriatric porn or picking a terribly inconvenient moment to pass wind does no real harm to the play itself.

“Don’t Look” succeeds largely on what a harmless spectacle the whole affair is. In fact it’s far more charming and benign than it could ever be perceived as vulgar or gratuitous. The enthusiasm of the actors and the sincerity of the script really engages the audience, and these considerations alone should alleviate the discomfort one might have from seeing a close relative in a romantic or sexual light. The occasional plot convenient incongruity is a minor storm to weather for some of the sharpest writing around.

“Don’t Look” is at the Factory Studio Theatre (125 Bathurst Street) on Friday January 16th at 9:30PM, Saturday January 17th at 5:30PM, and Sunday January 18th at 7:30PM. A great little show that’s definitely worth checking out.

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Hamming it up (Performance Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written for the issue published January 8, 2009.

Hart House was host to a special one night only performance of Hamlet by the Classical Theatre Project on Friday, December 5th, and it was quite the treat. After over 400 years of circulation, most of the nuance of Shakespeare’s classic comes from personal interpretation of the text, and I find that the true enjoyment of the work is found by taking in as many unique angles as possible. Is Hamlet upset because his father’s dead, or is it because Claudius cut ahead of him in the monarchical succession line? Did Ophelia commit suicide, or was she murdered to keep Denmark’s body count up? Are Rosencrantz and Guildensternreally dead? These are the questions of essays, but the key question of a performance review is far simpler: was it any good? Ignoring the discrepancy between my interpretation of the play and director Charles Roy’s, the answer is a definite “yes.”

Hamlet is the son of the recently deceased King of Denmark, and his uncle Claudius takes the throne ahead of him. After a strange spirit speaks to Hamlet and asserts that the late King was murdered by Claudius’ hand, Hamlet embarks on a somewhat discontinuous quest for revenge.

The cast of this performance was very strong, projecting their lines clearly and emotively. Peter Church in particular made an excellent Polonius and Gravedigger. The only real weak link was Paul Kit as Claudius, who is unfortunately for his role naturally endowed with the sort of improbable jaw line that would make Bruce Campbell proud. This is a concern because Claudius is supposed to be a vile and cowardly creature, and that portrait is just a tad undermined when the actor portraying him could smash boulders into dust with his lower jaw. The staging was rather inventive, especially the final fencing sequence between Laertes and Hamlet that was well choreographed and performed with exceptional skill and conviction. A technically solid production all around.

However the biggest issue with this performance of Hamlet is not what was done wrong, but what was not done at all. The character Fortinbras (Prince of Norway) had been omitted entirely, in itself not an uncommon decision for the consideration of time and efficiency. But often with the elimination of this character comes the omission of Hamlet’s fourth of four major soliloquies, and this was exactly the case with this performance. The audience needs this soliloquy in order for Hamlet’s arc to be complete and believable, and its absence turns the pace of the play from brisk to rushed, and leaves a gap in the character’s development. Specifically, the fourth soliloquy inspired by Fortinbras spurs Hamlet from indecision to action. Without it, the violent conclusion doesn’t quite click.

This oversight notwithstanding, Charles Roy’s Hamlet was a very good performance. All other curiosities are merely just different opinions of the material. Some directors – Charles Roy being one of them – like to exaggerate the humourous and incestuous undertones of the play, and others prefer a simpler approach. I can appreciate either decision. Anyone fortunate enough to catch this one night only performance should not have been disappointed.

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Canadian Bananas (Performance Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written for the issue published November 20, 2008.

Canada is a funny place. It’s a place that welcomes foreign customs and values from far and wide, strips them to their bare essentials, and throws them into a comparatively bland cultural stew. Tolerance for all the traditions of all the peoples that occupy Canada is certainly a critical aspect of what it means for anyone to be a Canadian citizen, but at the same time it presents a rather odd dilemma in how any Canadian citizen identifies themselves: our culture is everything and at the same time it is nothing.

The apparent lack of a tangible identity for a Canadian citizen is the theme that permeates Banana Boys, a play about five twenty-something CBC’s (Canadian Born Chinese) that drift through an ordinary life without a sense of belonging to any ethnic community. While the play focuses on the struggles of the Banana Boys in growing under mixed expectations, the plight is easily felt by anyone of any descent since virtually every culture has their expectations and stereotypes to meet or defy.

Banana Boys is staged rather curiously. The narrative is lax and uneven, and instead of focusing on a single major character, attention is doled out in equal parts to the five man cast rather uniformly. A main character does eventually emerge and all accounts are traced back to him, but to follow the events is challenging since most of them do not appear to carry much consequence. Attempts are made at characterization, but it never goes too far beyond tags and traits to identify them. Prior to the intermission consists of short vignettes of playful racism and stereotypes that merge in and out of each other almost recklessly, and I fear this places the viewer in the wrong frame of mind for the closing sequences after the intermission. The witty barbs are replaced with shoehorned melodrama and what appeared to be disposable suddenly becomes relevant.

Technically, the production is solid. The actors are strong and never stumbled, and the prop work and set design is impressively minimalist revolving almost entirely around a hospital gurney and two panel sliding door. However a minor grievance must be extended to the five fluorescent lights on the perimeter of the stage that deliberately flickered to enhance moments of intensity. The theatre is almost pitch black for most of the show, and those flashes are tantamount to scratching your retinas with a pickaxe.

It’s possible to be lost in the staging of Banana Boys (both as a sense of immersion and as a sense of confusion), but the strength of the production isn’t immediately felt until after you’ve left theatre and the ideas presented begin to resonate. Despite some questionable design choices, a lot of interesting notions about culture and identity are presented, and these are the thoughts that stick with you after the final bow.