Behind the Curtain: Hallucinogens, Power Drills, and Good Old-Fashioned Blood-Lust with Invasive Species’ Gabriel Schultz

By Caleigh Crow

Invasive Species is a story told by Junior, a tall, confident man in a white suit, who is trying to protect America from a scourge of cane toads that he feels have utterly infested his most beloved homeland. He’s on a train headed to his Floridian hometown to meet Big Bertha, the biggest baddest cane toad around, mother to the entire species, and malefactor of Junior’s personal tragedy. It seems like a noble enough cause until it’s revealed that Junior’s method of protecting America from cane toads involves a lot (a LOT) of highly addictive and deadly hallucinogens, a power drill, and good old-fashioned blood-lust. It’s an ecological thriller-horror story and powerful satirical statement on anti-immigration rhetoric rolled into one sweaty, furious, swampy fireball performance.

The play is written and performed by Gabriel Schultz, who is bringing the show back after a successful run at this year’s St Ambroise Montreal FRINGE Festival where it won the Frankie Award for Making Big Things Happen in Small Places, so it’s only fitting that the remount of the show will run at the Freestanding Room this week.

“The audience thinks they’re sitting on board a train with this southern gentleman, but then Junior starts ranting about America’s most dangerous illegal residents,” Gabriel says with a laugh, “and I remember feeling people in the audience reeling until he says it’s the cane toad. There’s a bit of a sigh of relief.” Invasive Species raises important questions about who we consider the ‘other’ and how reactionary movements can divert valuable energy and resources from alleviating structural inequalities. “Junior has been completely ripped off by the system, for lack of a better term, but he’s taking it out on the wrong people. He’s been destroyed by so many different things, but his energy is focused in the wrong place,” Gabriel explains.

Gabriel first wrote the show for a playwrighting course at Concordia University, who had a yen to combine his passion for biology and conservation, his one-time career of choice, with theatre. “I’ve always wanted to create that show,” he says, “but I also wanted it to be a show that would absorb the political climate of North America today.”

The play is firmly situated in the American South, with Gabriel performing with the appropriate accent. “I love the good parts of the American south, not just the good geographic points, though I think there is a lot of beauty there,” Gabriel says. “I knew that I wanted to play with a specific language and cadence because the fury that comes out of Southern people is scary but it’s very musical at the same time.” What comes to mind is the righteous anger of the Southern televangelist preacher, or champion of justice Martin Luther King Jr at his most fervent. Gabriel also credits the Southern states for their storytelling abilities, saying the art form is “really embraced in that part of the world.” He continues, “Whether it’s a light fairy tale or a raging revenge story it’s always going to come out musical and powerful.”

The production is moving from their FRINGE venue, which Gabriel describes as “coffee-table” sized, to the Freestanding Room. While the new venue is certainly bigger than a piece of living room furniture, it is still categorically (and affectionately) intimate. I glean from Gabriel that the result will be to have the audience members more immersed in the show – though it isn’t an immersive piece of theatre. “There will be space for me to move around and feel as if the audience are sitting on the train rather than sitting in the theatre watching a man on a train,” Gabriel predicts, and mentions a few other challenges of staging the show in yet another small space. “I think we can embrace that,” assures Gabriel, optimistically, “The functions of the play are very topsy-turvy. What’s interesting about the space is absorbing the challenges and putting it into the environment that comes out of Invasive Species.”

I want to leave you with my favourite thought from Gabriel, describing Junior, but also is an apt summation of Invasive Species: “He really embodies how I see that part of the world, which is a very sympathetic and beautiful place, but it can be disgusting and scary at the same time, and all of it clumped together in a weird sweaty seven-layer cake.”


Invasive Species runs from November 16 – 25 at the Freestanding Room. For more information and ticketing details please click here.

Behind the Curtain: No Resolution but Revelation with Dale Hayes of Late Company

by Caleigh Crow

“From what I’m seeing from the actors, it’s truthful, it’s unbearably truthful. It’s really hard to watch,” says Dale Hayes of her production, “It’s like watching a car accident, you want to look away, but you can’t.”

It’s odd to promote one’s work by declaring it hard to watch, but given the production, it is fitting. Dale is the artistic director of d² productions, whose latest, Late Company by Jordan Tannahill, is as unsettling as it is commonplace. Inspired by a real-life Canadian case of homophobia and cyberbullying pushed to its most tragic end, the play takes place at the Shaun-Hastings’ residence, a home permeated with grief. Debora and Michael Shaun-Hastings’ son, Joel, took his own life after a series of increasingly violent and homophobic encounters with his classmates both online and in school. The Shaun-Hastings have invited one of these classmates, Joel, and his parents, Bill and Tamara Dermot, over for what is supposed to be an evening of reconciliation that, even in this synopsis, is plainly doomed.

The two families created by playwright Jordan Tannahill are almost vulgarly honest representations, and they tend to poke at parts of North American cultural foibles we’d like to think we’ve left behind in favour of an inclusive future. Bill and Tamara Dermot exhibit behaviours that would make any millennial worth their salt cringe – strict adherence to ‘traditional’ familial and gender roles underlie Bill’s philosophy, and Tamara’s kindness is superficial at best, something she has in common with Debora, but that’s where the commonality ends. While a certain defensive tone underscores Tamara’s dialogue, Debora’s white-hot rage is barely contained by her polite conversation, while surly Curtis and Michael, a conservative politician, just want the evening to come to a quick conclusion, regardless of resolution, for their own sakes. None of the five want to be pinned with anything, and they’ve all got their reasons for doing and saying what they do. They’re playing everyone’s favourite dinner party game ‘Who’s to Blame For Joel’s Death’ and of course there can be no winners here.

The story is brought to life by a cast of five and being truthful on stage is that much more challenging when your character is less than admirable, though it is a sign of great writing. According to Dale, the key to portraying characters is to “justify everything that comes out of their mouths” even if it’s somewhat distasteful because “the script is so truthful.”

The Late Company cast features Helena Levitt, Sterling Mawhinney, Anthony Schuller, Leigh Ann Taylor, and Nick Walker, minted Montreal performers all.  Dale says of her cast, “I have great actors who have great instincts. They are so wonderful, they did their research, they understand their characters, the relationships. These are five very different characters and they’ve developed them fully.”

Dale deliberately chose a small and intimate venue, the MiniMain at MainLine Theatre, and the actors responded accordingly. “Once they got into that room and they realised there’s only 43 seats,” Dale explains, “you can really see the spit coming out of their mouths now. It’s almost like film, because you’re so close.”

The themes of the play will be both familiar and challenging to anyone, across identities and circumstances. As a former educator, I know these issues are played out in schools and online in Canada every day. When it comes to young people suffering, we’d all like easy answers and a concrete solution, but the reality of solving this crisis is very complicated, and as an honest play, there aren’t many answers to be found in Late Company. This is one of the strengths of the show. “Don’t expect a resolution,” cautions Dale, “nothing important can be resolved in an hour and a half.”

So, what can the audience expect? “I’m just hoping that for an hour and a half the audience are engaged, interested, and surprised, pleased, and they want to start a conversation, they want to talk about this,” Dale says.

In the program, audience members can find Canadian statistics and resources that underscore the need for this play today, and the need for conversation and action around these issues. “I’m hoping the audience will go home and kiss their kid, call their mother, call their brother – even if they’ve never had any experiences with bullying, I hope they’ll just be touched by the play.” She continues, “To think that these people – inspired by a true story – it’s real. This really happens. I want people to understand that it’s real life, and it’s happening around us, and they have to take action.”

Our conversation turns emotional when I ask Dale where hope is to be found in this play, if anywhere. She mentions a quote from Anne Frank’s diary: “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.” She pauses and allows the thought to flutter above our heads. “That just makes me want to cry,” she says, and follows her train of thought. “What causes a person to do these things? Why are some kids mean and some kids not mean? Or are we all mean, and we just have to learn not to be?” While there might not be room for a resolution in Late Company, revelation is possible for both the audience and the characters. Dale sums it up thus, “I really do believe that people are good, we just have to ask ourselves, what is my good?”

One of the places d² productions has found their good is in the work they do, and Dale has a lot to say about the privilege of being a theatre maker. “I’m so grateful for what we do, I’m so grateful for being able to create work for actors in Montréal, and I’m grateful that we are able to put on a play and have people come with their hard-earned cash to pay to come and see us,” Dale says. “What a privilege and a responsibility that is, and none of us take that lightly. You can’t have an off night because there’s someone there who paid their $15.” With low ticket prices, Dale is hoping to encourage people who have never seen a play before to give live theatre a chance. She very aptly notes, “Unless you’ve seen a play, you don’t know what a play is. The magic of walking into a theatre and just being there in the moment and watching these people spit out their dialogue and their emotions – it’s wonderful, I hope that we can get more people interested in theatre by keeping our prices low.”

Late Company is playing at MainLine Theatre until November 19. For a more detailed schedule and ticketing information – the show has been selling out so get your tickets in advance! – click here.

Roundtable Discussion: Six Artists from Imago Theatre’s Her Side: Revision to Resist


The Quebec Drama Federation presents a roundtable discussion with six of the artists working on Imago Theatre’s upcoming play festival, Her Side of the Story: Revision to Resist.

The Participants:

  • Jen Viens, lead actor in What Happened After Nora Left Her Husband
  • Tamara Brown, director of The Last Wife and lead actor in Fucking A
  • Jen Quinn, director of The Penelopiad
  • Gabriel Maharjan, actor in The Last Wife
  • Oliver Koomsatira, actor in Fucking A
  • Kathleen Stavert, actor in The Last Wife From


From October 31 to November 5 at Centaur Theatre, Imago Theatre will present Her Side of the Story: Revision to Resist, a festival of performances, encounters and exchange around women who revision known narratives to reclaim Her Side of the Story from the footnotes.

Tickets are $20 or $15 for students/artists/seniors or Pay-What-You-Decide at the door. Tickets can be purchased by calling the Centaur Box Office at 514-288-3161 or online at

Behind the Curtain: Joseph Shragge of Oedipus Part One: Assembly

By Caleigh Crow


“We don’t think of the Greeks as musical theatre,” says Joseph Shragge, “even though the choruses were sung and danced to.”

Joseph Shragge.jpg

Joseph sits across from me at the ubiquitous wooden table that dominates the Quebec Drama Federation’s main meeting space. It’s a large table, long, darker in color; the varnish on it lovingly dyed by the consequence of hands and light on its surface. It’s expansive and weighty. As far as ubiquity goes, I know my dear table would be obliterated by the might of the three choirs portraying the Chorus in Scapegoat Carnivale Theatre’s production, Oedipus Part One: Assembly.

Joseph adapted the text from Lynn Kozak, a professor of classics at McGill University, who wrote the direct translation. It was while Joseph was working with Lynn on the script that something struck Joseph that would eventually lead to the involvement of the choirs. Joseph explains, “Oedipus opens with a mass movement of people supplicating, not just at King Oedipus’ palace gates, but all throughout the city. There’s one line that indicates others are at the marketplace and by the river, and I asked Lynn about it. ‘What do you mean there’s others? Other groups?’ She said yes, throughout the city. I had never thought of that before.”

If you’re familiar with classical Greek plays, you know the inclusion of the chorus can be a hurdle to a creative team, and for Joseph it was no exception. For the Oedipus team, it made sense to “think of the Greeks as musical theatre”. Joseph tells me that in a certain headspace, the question wasn’t how to portray the Chorus, but what even is the Chorus? “It’s like a poem, but if you think of it as a song, it works dramatically so much better than having people chant,” he says. “I’m hoping that having the chorus sung will add a magical dimension to it.”

Rehearsal- Oedipus Part One%3b Assembly- three choirs.jpg

Before the production reached this point, Joseph, Lynn, and dramaturg Anthony Kennedy, had been working on the script in conjunction with director Andreas Apergis, who translated the first quarter of the play before Lynn took over. The entire writing process has persisted over two years. “It’s really closer to translation in many ways,” Joseph says. “The impulse is to tear it apart and do something contemporary, and I’ve done that on other projects, and for some reason with Andreas we’ve always come back to thinking, this stuff is really interesting, the scenes are so rich.” Joseph laughs, “It’s better than what we could come up with, so we just keep tinkering and tinkering away at these sentences.”

Joseph notes that working on the script for so long has made him a little numb to some of the extremes of the play (in a word: incest), especially compared to other classical works. “It’s not like we’re all walking around worried about being accidentally married to our own mothers,” he says bluntly. “It’s so particular, that I don’t even know what kind of feelings that should engender in anyone. It’s a more difficult tragedy because we don’t relate to Oedipus the same way we do to Medea or Clytemnestra, or those power imbalances that are much more accessible.” So, how will audiences connect with the play? Joseph responds, “It begins with a horrible plague, a city in turmoil, that’s easy to understand. The cause of this is a murder, and we have to find the murderer. Now we go into this mystery then we just keep getting all these strange turns. All these turns start to relate back to the initial problem. It becomes this horror detective story.”

If it’s a translation then, it comes with all the quirks of trying to extract meaning from a highly representational art form: language. Joseph recounts the challenges that arose from trying to decipher two words: ‘the same’. In the scene, Oedipus is speaking with Tiresias, whose translated line ‘You’re speaking against the order of the cosmos, so speak no more, and spare me suffering the same’ had Joseph in a tizzy. “What’s the same? There’s certain ways if you order the sentence it seems like it makes sense, but why the same? The same suffering? It means Tiresias is outside the cosmic order or…” he shakes his head. “There’s a lot of that.”

I glean that Joseph is fond of Tiresias (who doesn’t love a blind prophet), from his care in determining what’s ‘the same’, and that he and I agree casting Leni Parker in that role is inspired. When asked what scene he’s most excited to see brought to life, Joseph answers “When Tiresias comes out and tells Oedipus you’re the pollution – and oh my god, that word…” he pauses to think about it. “For now, it’s pollution. But it could be contagion,” he can’t help himself, he’s a writer. He continues, “When Tiresias comes out and says you’re the cause of this plague, it’s such a powerful attack, revelation. That character has so much ferocity, and that is Leni Parker, and I know she’s going to excel.”

As our conversation continues, my once grandiose meeting table now seems increasingly diminutive. There are so many performers, singers, actors, and writers on board, each bringing their own artistry to this massive show. We have Choeur Maha,  Zakynthines Phones Choir, and The Montreal Artists Choir bringing a towering presence to the role of the chorus. There’s an impressive cast, including Leni Parker, Chip Chuipka, Alison Darcy, and Mike Payette to name a few. Sophocles and a crack team of writers, translators, and dramaturgs, present us with a berserk plot built around a horror-murder mystery that intensifies to a dreadful, frightful, excellent climax–  it’s oh so Greek.

Oedipus Part One: Assembly is playing from October 20 – 22 at the Centaur Theatre. Opening night is already sold out! Hurry and get your tickets by calling the Centaur box office at (514) 288-3161. For more information, check out Scapegoat Carnivale’s website here. 

Behind the Curtain: Cultivating Confidence with Gabriel Maharjan, director of Gruesome Playground Injuries

By: Caleigh Crow

For Playground Productions, new swingers on the Montreal independent theatre monkey bars, there’s only the future ahead, laid cleanly before them like white-painted hopscotch squares, still un-scuffed by sneakers and loose pebbles. Their first kick at the can (last playground joke), Gruesome Playground Injuries, offers the story of two characters brought together by injury and illness. The show spans their entire lifetimes and see-saws back and forth in time, and the audience too takes a spin on the merry-go-round of life (okay, that’s enough, for real).

The company was founded by a group of five emerging artists, including Gabriel Maharjan, director of Gruesome Playground Injuries. “It’s really important to the play, the reminder that we all have flaws, and we can all love and be loved despite our flaws,” Gabriel says. “Sometimes we do things we don’t want to do or we do the opposite of what’s best for us. We push people away when we should be letting them in. It’s those kinds of things. It’s not a play of good decisions and bad decisions, but hard decisions for the characters,” Gabriel pauses. “I think everyone’s made a hard decision in their life.”

Gabriel hopes audience members come see Gruesome Playground Injuries to catch a glimpse of the human condition. “I like when a play shakes my perspective of life a little bit, and takes me out of balance, and I feel a little less comfortable on the ground,” he says. The play is “almost existential in the sense that it’s about life. No matter what age you’re at, you always aging, and that’s something that everyone has in the back of their mind, the fact that we’re constantly getting older and nearing a certain end point of life.”

We spend some time talking about the Montreal English theatre community, which Gabriel describes as a “small and feisty”. He’s eager to see the community grow, and has already recruited new member into the fold, Emon Barua, sound designer, who had never worked on a theatrical production before. When reading the script, he asked Gabriel what the playwright meant by ‘beat’ – is that a sound design note? Gabriel counts Emon’s curiosity and willingness to try an entirely new artform as a step in the right direction, saying, “I think it’s important that since we’re quite contained and we like to work amongst ourselves, we need to make sure we get people outside the community in, and part of that is by reaching out to other artists who haven’t worked in theatre, like Emon.”

Working with characters whose entire lives are laid bare onstage and shared with the audience out of time can be a challenge for an actor, as it requires a lot of setting the record straight within the production, another place Gabriel can lend his director’s eye. “We had to make very concrete decisions for ourselves what have the characters going through that is not said. You do that for any show, you make those decisions, but this show has thirty years of making life decisions for the characters,” Gabriel says.

Gabriel and the Playground team have made use of movement in their transitions between scenes, giving the rearranging of furniture and passage of time in the play a performance-based aspect, and to help guide the audience through the misfiled scenes. “For the actors to be able to jump from eight years old to twenty-three to thirteen and back and forth, these transitions help them use the limited time onstage to help switch their acting styles and the characteristics they’re playing with,” Gabriel says. “The transitions offer an opportunity for the audience to reflect on what just happened because what happens next is not a continuation of [the characters’] lives, it will be another side of the story, but it’s not linear in that sense.”

The heightened elements of the show aren’t strictly relegated to scene transitions. There’s a scene towards the end of the show that takes place in a mental facility, and the play didn’t call for much more than chairs, a desk, and some dialogue – a typical meeting setting. “It felt a little empty,” Gabriel admits. “It felt like there could be more for this, we could do something more to represent the characters and what’s going on inside them. So, we decided to play with that and turn that whole scene into a movement piece, and no other scene is like that.” The creative choice to elevate one scene stems from the group’s rejection of style markers as rigid categories that must apply to the entire play. “I like being able to branch out and let the show be more than just one style. I think it makes it a lot more interesting for us as creators to spread our wings out and stretch and feel the different possibilities,” he says, “but also for the audience not to expect the rest of the show.”

It’s a director’s choice to elevate one particular scene in such a way, and though he might not have made it completely alone, it’s up to Gabriel to turn his and his creative team’s visions into reality. As a first-time director, getting used to leadership is an exercise in cultivating confidence. “If anybody who doesn’t do theatre were to watch a rehearsal, they would probably think, what is any of this?” Gabriel refers to common rehearsal hall exploratory exercises, such as “walking around throwing balls around, walking around picking blocks up while turning around, just weird stuff” that might not be instantly recognizable as craft-honing drills but that nevertheless have a place in many actors’ and directors’ toolkits. “As an actor, I love doing the weird stuff, I think if it’s useful let’s do it, but as a director now I definitely have moments where I wonder if the actors will think it’s too weird to be useful.” He explains, “That’s where the confidence comes in. You have to make the decision of what’s going to happen in rehearsal. It’s the difference between being told the wackiness and actually deciding the wackiness for the group. You have to let go of any inhibitions in that sense, and any sort of insecurities about your ability to foster creation.” He pauses to reflect, “It’s a very different role.”

I leave you with a final thought from Gabriel on theatre: “Stories are wonderful, but the story needs to pull at the heartstrings a little bit, or the brain strings or any strings in the body, it could pull at anything depending on the show, but it needs to pull.”

Gruesome Playground Injuries runs from September 22 – 26 at the Harold Greenspon Auditorium, 5801 Cavendish Boul, Cote Saint-Luc. For more information and for tickets, please click here.






Behind the Curtain: Ira Sokolova of Bites of Life 

By Caleigh Crow 


“I’m really trying to adjust my approach to the modern style of living. I want my theatre projects to go along with the flow of life. I like serious and deep stuff, but at the same time, my playful mind, my love of a challenge, and also my desire to make the challenge obey me, all that always stimulates me in my search for different forms and different locations that are not the typical stage spots” Ira Sokolova says.  

Staging plays in site-specific places started about 14 years ago, with the pilot production of Ira’s newly founded by her independent theatre Gleams. The monologue play The Guitar Woman by Jon Fosse Ira presented in the Art Gallery of Victoria Hall, Westmount, in 2004. A couple of years after, Gleams Theatre produced Bookstore Theatre series where Ira S explored the ten-minute plays genre in, you guessed it, a bookstore. It was her way of bringing theatre to where people go on a regular basis, the “nowadays style of living” where people routinely go to bookstores to buy books, so why not stay for a ten-minute-plays show? 

Ira produced entire four-show season of Bookstore Theatre and it was her first time using short plays, which she noticed taking off in the United States where 10-minute plays festivals are common. The reception to the series was positive, and the experience would inform Ira’s upcoming series, Bites of Life. “Great experience, it gave me an idea not just of how to do this type of theatre, but it gave me an idea of how people will react to this genre, and they loved it”, Ira says, “This all stays in you.” 

Bookstore Theatre came to an end when the venue went out of business, but it wasn’t the end of Gleams Theatre or Ira’s interest in the forms and philosophies behind her work. Both Gleams Theatre and her friend’s hotel Oberge Manoir Ville Marie were celebrating ten years in 2014, and they held a bash together in the hotel. Ira knew right away she wanted to stage a short play in one of the rooms of the hotel. This was where she first connected with New York based playwright C.S. Hanson, whose play Where Were You When I Was Coming? ran in two adjoining hotel rooms at the anniversary event. It was double cast, with two performances happening simultaneously. The feedback was clearly showing that the audience’s experience was very exciting and very curious. 

Ira took the production to the St Ambroise Montreal FRINGE Festival, in June 2015 where she showed the double cast on the same stage simultaneously, incorporating elements of choral speech – sometimes the actors would speak in unison, or one actor might pick up a line where the other left off.  Ira explains her reasoning as being inspired by the everyday things that happen to everyone. “Sometimes you go on the street and you see the windows of houses without curtains, and you see people behind in similar situations. “This thought came to me and I imagined how many couples in life go through that same things C.S. Hanson’s play was talking about”, Ira says.   

While Ira was working on the hotel show, she was getting her hair done at her salon, her hairdresser, Farida, asked, “Why don’t we put on a theatre show in my salon?” Ira was startled, and said sure, not thinking anything would really come of it, but Farida persisted, and Ira promised to start thinking seriously about such a project and find a material that would be suitable for the venue. Not long after Ira’s idea started to take shape and eventually, she wrote a script titled Bites of Life in which she compiled three 10-minute plays: Customer Service by Philip Hall, Stalk Me, Baby by C.S. Hanson and The Best Is Yet to Come, by Ira S. The later she wrote specially for Julie Barbeau, an actor she wanted to cast in the show, but whom she couldn’t find a suitable partner.  These three short plays formed Episode 1 of the future theatre series. Gleams Theatre produced Bites of Life, Episode 1 for the first time in the fall of 2015 as a salon theatre launch. By audience demand, Ira re-produced that show last year adding to it new elements delivered by two new characters: The Actor and The Juggler.  

This year’s double bill production of Bites of Life, Episode 1 – The Introduction and Episode 2 – Black Coffee will mark the first world theatre series launch, a reproduction of the TV series genre where the audience can follow the stories of the characters introduced in Episode 1 in a different place, in a café.  

Ira’s idea for a polyglot production came from C.S. Hanson’s partner, who mentioned he translated Hanson’s play Stalk Me, Baby into Spanish, which happened to be Sonia’s mother tongue. “I said to her, Sonia, you’re going to do it in Spanish next year!” Everyone took it as a joke,” she recalls. But the idea stuck, not least of all because Bites of Life is to be hosted in Montreal’s neighborhood of Notre-Dame-des-Graces, which has the same municipal office as the most linguistically diverse neighborhood in the city, Cote-Des-Neiges. “It’s so associated with the city we live in, with its vibrant multilingual and multicultural vibe”, she explains.  

Bites of Life polyglot production will be performed in English, French, Spanish, Polish and Bulgarian, Ira’s first language, which she says people often don’t realize even exists. “This will be good for the spectators to hear how Bulgarian sounds, many people think we speak Russian or something else,” she says.  

“Rehearsals are just marvelous,” Ira notes. She sees what big impact acting in their first languages had on her cast right away. “It’s so much more exciting, it becomes funnier and more engaging,” she says. Ira observed that when Sonia acts in Spanish, “her eyes light up, her voice changes, the intonation becomes more genuine  – it’s unbelievable”, she laughs, “Wow!” 

Not only does the show play with multilingualism, unconventional theatre space, and the short play format, there are surprises that Ira wouldn’t even share with me, for fear of ruining the fun. The show promises to be a complete evening, with both venues for Episodes One and Two catering to the customer (or theatre-goer) experience with cozy venues and accommodating hosts. At the Leonidas Café, host of Episode Two, there’s even the possibility of Belgium chocolate!   

 The Bites of Life series opens with Episode 1 on September 15th, and runs every Friday at 8PM until November 3rd. The first venue is Coiffure 3 (5256 Sherbrooke St., W., Montreal).

Episode 2 runs every Thursday from October 19 – November 30 at 8PM. Leonidas Culture Chocolate Cafe, 318 Victoria Ave., Westmount


For more information on the schedule and to get tickets, please click here





Behind the Curtain: CABAL’s Anthony Kennedy and the Tragic Queens

By Caleigh Crow

“We’re not trying to be rebellious or provocative for the sake of it,” Anthony Kennedy says, “this is just what makes sense to us.”

Anthony Kennedy is the director and one of six founders of CABAL Theatre, one of Montreal’s newest independent theatre companies, whose upcoming production, Tragic Queens, is a collectively devised piece inspired by an array of influences from literary giant Virginia Woolf to Chicana theorist Gloria E. Anzaldua to Instagram artist Audrey Woollen. It’s about Queen-hood and feminism, self-curation and identity, the internet and power. The group are fiercely unapologetic about the provocative feminist subject matter, their rebellious collective approach, or the way they make sense of the world around them.

The result? “It’s flowing, its this collage, it’s super frenetic and alive,” as Anthony describes it. “Being ever girl and ever woman. Being born a girl, and being immediately sexualized, but then as you grow into a woman, you’re always infantilized, the double shame of being a woman,” he says. “We wanted to look at these things. Looking at girlhood, teenagerhood, adulthood, and then backing it up with this queen epilogue, which as its own thing speaks to a broader perspective and adds a degree of gravitas, we have these different sources of inspirations for each section.”

The piece was assembled by the CABAL collective, and centers around the push and pull between feminism and femininity in the age of the selfie and late capitalism. We joked about how every woman must have Rosie the Riveter Girl Power professional chutzpah, otherwise you’re just not trying hard enough, but the underlying truth of that joke is what the Tragic Queens team is getting at. “Be assertive, take over in the workforce, make a lot of money, be powerful, practice positivity,” Anthony says. “Which in some ways can be quite good, but it puts the onus on women, rather than acknowledging that the problem with the world is not women being positive enough, it’s patriarchy.”

By no means virgin territory and they know it, which is why Anthony pays due deference to the artists and authors I mentioned above, and others like Mary Beard, Anne Carson, and Maggie Nelson. CABAL use their influences to discuss contradictions of being a woman, the opportunities and disadvantages, and the extent to which women can control it all. “It’s quite simple,” Anthony explains, “there’s a lot of reasons why women and girls are discontent with the world. It’s not a place that’s set up to serve them, in fact it’s quite the opposite, it can be a dangerous place and really unkind. So, it’s perfectly reasonable to respond to a world that is messing with you and to be discontent.” Tragic Queens is one such response.

There are as many different approaches to collective creation as there are collective creators, and that’s part of what makes the theatre style so enticing to theatre practitioners who employ it. Here, process is King- or more appropriately, Queen – though given the typically lateral power structure of the form, maybe any reference to hierarchy is in the wrong spirit. CABAL broke their process for Tragic Queens down into two major phases: the creation phase, and the refining phase. The first phase entails a lot of research; both in the traditional sense and in terms of theatre exploration and exercises around a theme, image, or idea. “We all journal based on our personal experiences, we all bring in articles and share them, pick our favourite passages, we bring in poetry, be bring in excerpts of novels, films, all sorts of media that we think is pertinent. We present it, discuss it, dissect it, journal about our feelings,” Anthony explains. “Then, we might come up with a performative exercise on a theme. We’ll say, as an example, it has to be 2 minutes long, it’s got to have a beginning and end, its needs to have a leap and a fall, a loud noise, and the lights have to turn on and off once.”

At this point, “we” isn’t only performers and directors, it’s dramaturgs, stage manager, light, costume and sound designers – everybody who has an idea is welcome to contribute. The boundaries between disciplines are blurred, with designers acting, actors making the first little bits of costume – whichever idea is strongest, regardless of training or role, comes to the forefront. “Because it’s not for an audience, it’s just for research, even if somebody’s performance isn’t riveting, it can offer up a really powerful idea. If we take the idea, and say that image was really striking, have an actor step in, do that role using their expertise and instrument, it can become even more powerful,” Anthony says. “The burden isn’t on one person to come up with all this stuff. As the process goes on, everybody steps into their specialty because we need to stage the thing, but the full conversation is always there, and the best idea wins.”

Take for example, the lighting operator Niamh Devaney of Tragic Queens. She happens to be finishing up her Master’s degree in playwrighting, has experience directing, designing, and running a theatre company of her own. As Anthony says, “It’s this brilliant thing to have a new collaborator who’s not just a lighting board operator. Why not make use of that resource, and all of that experience?”

As phase one morphs into phase two, the contributors slip back into their specialties, polishing the rough ideas hammered out in phase one. Anthony gives CABAL’s Artist in Residence, playwright Rhiannon Collett, as an example. “For her to weave our journal entries into one voice, and then take a poem we selected, and weave that in, and have it be this completely new piece of writing that has it’s own tone that draws from all these vital places, – ah!” He sighs. “It’s just amazing.” They’ve never worked with a playwright before in this capacity, and they are finding her a tremendous boon to the production.

Anthony makes it clear that the show is not an immersive theatre piece, even though the piece makes use of the entire theatre. If you’re looking for a pillar of theatrical creativity with a wealth of experience and a certain avant-garde sensibility, look no further than the MainLine Theatre itself, where Tragic Queens will be performed. “The MainLine has a rich history, it has a personality. We are embracing the space, one of the characters in the show is the MainLine, and we’re having things happen in a variety of spaces, and drawing attention to it,” Anthony says. The theatrical piece being played onstage will be accompanied by a live feed from other performances occurring simultaneously in MainLine’s other spaces. Anthony remarks on the contrast of the two mediums, “To be able to have that ability to reflect immediately, seeing flesh and blood in front of you and seeing a projection, how it changes your perception of a scene. You see it onstage and then forty-five minutes later the same scene happens but on camera in a different space,” he pauses, “and it can force one to reflect on how one’s agency is taken away by cinema, the camera guiding your perspective.”

One last tidbit to entice you – every night the show features a guest performer who adds something of their own expertise and lived experience to the Tragic Queens piece. Anthony wouldn’t give away any names, but he did indicate that there would be and an opera singer one night and many of the biggest names of Montreal’s main stages. You won’t know what to expect – except the rebellious and provocative.

Tragic Queens will be playing at the MainLine Theatre from August 17 -27. For more information and for tickets please click here.


Behind the Curtain: Warona Setshwaelo of Black Theatre Workshop’s Artist Mentorship Program


by Caleigh Crow

So, you’ve decided to go for it. You want to be a theatre practitioner. Maybe you discover you’re compelled to perform; to tell stories. Or maybe you’ve got a discerning eye for design and you’re great at building models. Maybe directing is your soul-food. You may have attended a post-secondary theatre training program and you’ve been learning about lighting plots. You step out into the theatre world, with all your training and techniques, take a look around for some easy opportunities and one question comes to mind: now what?

Having questions is one thing, getting answers is another. If you haven’t had the networking opportunities to make connections with people already working in the field, it’s hard to know who to ask. This is where mentorship programs can help bridge the gap between emerging artists and where they want to be in their professional careers. Black Theatre Workshop recognized the need for mentorship in the theatre community, and established the Artist Mentorship Program. The program prioritizes black artists and artists of color and is also geared towards pairing artists with mentors of color. As Warona Setshwaelo, Artist Mentorship Program Coordinator, tells me during our interview, “The fact that almost every racialized artist that has approached me about the program has said they never had an artist mentor of color is a reason off the bat to create a program like this.”

The Artist Mentorship Program is currently accepting applications from emerging actors, directors, stage managers, designers, and playwrights. After the submission deadline on May 26th, selected applicants will be invited to attend an interview at Black Theatre Workshop. From this group of interviewees, twelve are selected as participants. From October to the end of April, the chosen twelve are paired with a mentor in their field and attend workshops, hear guest speakers, see around 10-15 plays, and hold discussions – the perfect place to ask now what? The program is capped off with an Industry Showcase where participants display their skill sets for artistic directors, agents, and other industry professionals. This is a unique opportunity for some face time with some of the industry’s key players.

The program is tailored to the participant in every aspect. Emerging stage managers, directors, and designers take part in an apprenticeship on a professional show. Actors attend workshops on audition skills. Playwrights meet with dramaturgs and editors to support their writing. There’s a workshop on taxes for artists, on grant writing. Everything – even things that seem like details until you’re faced with them is covered by the program. “We’re not here to teach you one way of doing things,” Warona explains, “we’re here to support what’s happening and show you a bunch of different ways to do it, and you can piece something together out of that.” Given that artists are, shall we say, free-spirited, a one-size fits all approach does not work.

It also goes without saying that in arts, the professional and the personal are very close. The Artist Mentorship Program embraces this. “We deal with you as a person, you as an artist, you as a working artist, and what all that is,” Warona says. “We keep our work very close to our hearts and it all blends into the same thing.” The program not only answers professional now what questions, but also personal questions. A participant may not have the support of their family or friends. Now what? I don’t know when to say ‘no’ and when to say ‘yes’. Do I have to do everything? Now what? I’ve auditioned three times this week. Now what? As Warona says, “There’s a lot to talk about in this business, and there are lot of questions to be asked.”

There are even more questions if you are an artist of color. It’s important that the participants have a place to talk freely about being racialized in the arts. Warona specifically mentions being tokenised on a production. “If you’ve ever been tokenised you know how lonely and scary that can be,” Warona says. “Most of the time you don’t speak up because you don’t know what’s going to happen, especially if you’re emerging. It’s a strange place to be, and you’re going to have specific problems that people who aren’t marginalized aren’t going to have.”
One of these problems is the lack of representation among racialized groups in theatre generally, and especially in the off-stage realms of directing, stage management, and design. “People don’t enter a profession where it looks they aren’t considered. If you don’t see anything of you, especially when it’s an artistic job it can be extremely intimidating and like I said, nobody wants to be tokenized,” Warona says frankly.

The participants have a sensible and caring set of hands at the helm. When asked about this group of participants, her first as program coordinator, she turns very tender. “It’s my first group so I think there’s going to be some fondness,” she says with a laugh, “but they’re all so talented, generous, hardworking, and all of them are awesome members of the theatre community and the community at large.”

For Warona, one of the best things about coordinating the program is “being able to reach out to these racialized artists who felt like there might not be room for them.” Make no mistake – there is room for these artists, and Warona and Black Theatre Workshop are committed to doing their part to make sure everyone in the community is supported, and Warona’s pride in her work is palpable. “My belief is that you must create the programs that are going to show them that there is a place for them,” she says. “I’m not trying to convince people to do it, I’m trying to make the space that was already theirs, and show it to them.”

If you are interested in applying for Black Theatre Workshop’s Artist Mentorship Program please click here. The deadline is May 26th.

Behind the Curtain: In Front of the Lights with Itai Erdal and His ‘How to Disappear Completely’

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By Max Mehran

The Segal Centre for Performing Arts presents The Chop Theatre’s award-winning production of How to Disappear Completely from April 30th to May 21st at the Segal Studio. QDF had the pleasure to meet with the co-writer and performer in the show, internationally-known lighting designer Itai Erdal. In this emotionally charged interview, Itai answers our questions with sincerity and humour. While the play deals with the passing of Itai’s mother through the beauty and metaphoric use of lighting designs, it is an affirming ode to a mother’s life.

I want to know why he decided to tell this story in the first place. “I thought my mother was really great, and I miss her,” he says sincerely. Even as a teenager, he knew his mother was the ‘cool mom’, and the show helps keep her alive. Someone mentioned to him that he should have called the show How Not to Disappear Completely because “as long as I do the show, my mother doesn’t disappear,” he says. “It helps me keep in touch with my mother and I am proud of her, her personality really shines through the show. She said some profound things and I want everybody to know how great she was.” He also tells me that every time after he finishes a presentation, a line up of people are waiting to talk to him with tears in their eyes. He heard stories of people’s loved ones who passed away, about finding love, about working in palliative care and how the show touched them. “I hear wonderful stories, and every time I meet someone who was touched by the show, I tell them ‘I did the show for you.’”  He discusses how the topic of dying and cancer is very taboo and difficult subject that is often not addressed on stage, but he reminds me that How to Disappear Completely, while dealing with these themes, is not a depressing show, but quite funny. “My mother was a hedonist, she enjoyed life and it would be a sin to make a depressing show about her,” he emphasizes.  “A lot of people say it’s a life affirming show,” he continues, “so it’s a way into a topic that is very difficult to make way in any other way, and I really believe that it is really good to feel things.”

It all started in the year 2000 when Itai received a phone call from Israel telling him the difficult news that his mother was diagnosed with cancer and only had 9 months left to live. Itai was in film school at the time, and decided to fly back to Israel to spend every minute she had left by her side. Being a filmmaker compelled him to bring his video camera on the plane, and his first idea was to use his filmmaking skills freshly learned in school to interview his mother and capture her talking about childhood stories and recipes amongst other things. She suggested that he should do a documentary film that he could call “Towards My Mother’s Death”, which he agreed to work on. Itai became the main caregiver for the last months of her life, filming as his mother was passing in the comfort of her own home. Some people did ask him how he could have filmed some of the very difficult passages, but, as he says, “it was my way of dealing with the situation, of coping by trying to make something creative and beautiful out of a difficult situation.”

After she passed, he flew back to Vancouver and made a trailer of the documentary hoping to attract the interest of producers, but for various personal reasons, he ended up not making the film. A few years later, Itai found himself working in theatre and this is when he decided to use the footage of the passing of his mother and create a theatre piece. Not being an actor but already a successful lighting designer, he and his creative team came up with the idea of doing a lighting demonstration. Teaching about the technicalities of lighting designs and talking about this art form is one of Itai’s passions. Therefore, creating this piece around lights was an easy task for the performer. His team and himself workshopped the piece and presented it in various places. The audience responded well to the work, and he explains that “lighting suddenly became a metaphor for many things about my mother’s life that I would have never imagined possible.” He tells us that the show “became something between a lecture about lighting and telling stories about my mother while covering many aspects of my life.” A real catharsis, the show was premiered in Vancouver in 2010 and was a critically acclaimed success.

Itai and his team started pitching the show and selling it internationally. How to Disappear Completely went through 23 remounts and was presented over 250 times in many cities in the United Kingdom, the United States, and Canada. Itai remembers when his mother was telling him how filming the footage “was her contribution to my future.” He adds, “if only she could have known how much she contributed because this show changed my life, made me start my own theatre company, made me create more shows since, made me realize that I can perform and opened me up to another direction in the creative arts.” While Itai still is a professional lighting designer, he has the freedom to develop his creative skills and create more work for himself and his company.

When asked if along the years performing the show if he could recall major changes it underwent, he stops for a second and tells me, “the show hasn’t changed much, but what changed is that I am much more relaxed as a performer.” Itai, while not being a trained actor, became more and more comfortable being himself on stage, being real. “I realized something about acting,” he points out, “the more that I do, the less the audience feels and the less I do, the more they feel.”

Itai was trained in film which piqued my curiosity about the bridge from film to theatre and what motivated this passage. He reveals that he worked in theatre before even starting working on film. He started as a teenager working on the technical side for a puppet show in Jerusalem, doing just lights. As he accepted more and more work on the lighting design side, he quickly picked up on the responsibilities and creative aspect of this work by looking at good designers’ work. “I’ve never went to school for lighting design, I am completely self-taught,” he confesses. However, he always knew he was a storyteller and felt comfortable about speaking in public, so transitioning to the stage wasn’t difficult. He became more and more excited about working in the theatre industry and he found his passion in the lights and through his work, became a well established lighting designer. He was particularly fascinated by how lighting can affect the mood of a scene in a very subliminal way and evoke a certain emotion to an audience member. “I think once I started realizing that,” he says, “I loved the subtle ways I could influence a piece and sometimes without the audience noticing it.” Itai is obviously very passionate about lighting designs, and he conveys that passion through his work and discourse. The transition between film and theatre was, therefore, not difficult, and he even adds that How to Disappear Completely being a verbatim theatre piece resembles documentary filmmaking. “It’s not that different,” he explains.

I asked Itai, why does he continue touring the show and sharing his story with audience members, and he tells me without an ounce of hesitation that “it’s because it is the most exciting and rewarding thing I have done in my life and because I don’t think there is anything else I would rather do.” The show has universal themes and every audience member can connect with the story because we all have or had a mother. “I think you can expect to see nothing you’ve ever seen before” he confidently states.

Itai will be very busy once his show closes as he will be traveling to Stratford, Ontario and Florida to work on productions as a lighting designer before flying back to Vancouver to work on original works produced by his own theatre company, The Elbow. You can follow more of his future works on QDF thanks Itai for his sincere answers and for sharing his stories with us. You can find out more about the show and ticket information by following the link.

Behind the Curtain: Dwellings


By Caleigh Crow

“I feel like I’m wrangling a carriage of ten horses and they’re all going in different speeds and directions!” Ulla Neuerburg-Denzer says affectionately. She is Associate Professor at the Department of Theatre at Concordia University. She’s referring to Dwellings, the multi-department, multi-disciplinary, multi-venue, multi-everything performance piece Concordia is presenting this weekend. “The piece itself is co-directed; directed or co-advised by the visiting artists, partially student created, with undergraduate and graduate students as supervisors, directors, or choreographers, partially collaboratively worked on,” she explains, “each of the roughly 10 pieces is put together in a different way and uses a different theatrical medium and is in a different space. The idea that the audience member journeys through a variety of environments and settings to broaden this idea of what is a dwelling and what is encompassed by that idea.” During our interview, Ulla referred to herself as a facilitator, organizer, sometimes director, checker and balancer, overseer, and joker; a scope as far-reaching as the project itself, which connects undergraduate and graduate students alike with local indigenous artists, speakers, and storytellers; and research laboratories like the Centre for Oral History and Digital Storytelling, Matralab, and SenseLab. That is a lot for anyone to wrangle, but the way Ulla speaks about the project, gently and fondly, it’s laborious and worthy work, and not just for Ulla, but also for the numerous collaborators involved in the project.

The undergraduate course presenting Dwellings is worth twice as many credits as most undergraduate classes and has a bigger time commitment to match. The term was divided into three four-week long phases; beginning with research, moving into four weeks of creation, and another four weeks to refine the performance. What they ended up creating was an immersive performance tour sojourning at several venues from the library to Guy-Concordia metro station, comprised of several theatrical pieces. “I like these types of immersive travelling shows,” Ulla remarks, “because it’s a different type of focus, you’re not sitting in a regular theatre space and in a sense, I think it heightens the sensual capacity of an audience member, you become more alert to small details and small changes, and I hope we are – and I believe we are – giving different tastes and flavors that people can pick up on and different levels of intensity.”

The intensity Ulla refers to is linked to the issues considered in Dwellings. The project was initiated in response to the alarming and dangerous housing situation on the Attawapiskat reserve, which has seen it’s fair share of media attention – for better or worse – since the issues were first brought to public attention in 2012. Since then, Floyd Favel, Cree theatre practitioner, writer, and Ulla have developed the project further. The title Dwellings reflecting this evolution. “We chose this open term to include all kinds of dwellings, not just houses or tipis, or traditional homes,” Ulla says, “but also the idea of the earth as a dwelling, our natural habitat as a dwelling. One of the pieces is called the womb,” she continues, “We know there are many issues about indigenous housing, not just in the country and up north but also in urban areas, including homelessness, incarceration, lack of housing on reserves, insufficient housing on reserves. It has contributed in its own way to the ongoing colonial structures in Canada that put indigenous people on the less supported side.”

Indigenous issues in Canada have seen more and more coverage not just in newsrooms or on the political campaign trail, but in the artistic world. “We chose housing as a lens to look at the Indigenous-Canadian relationship,” Ulla considers, “It’s not the only lens, there are many others, but perhaps because the Truth and Reconciliation Commission drew a lot of attention to the residential school issue, the current National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women is drawing attention to that particular issue, it seems like housing is connected to all of these issues in a way.”

I feel compelled to ask the question of the suitability of Concordia for a piece like this. When Ulla mentioned ongoing colonial structures in Canada and the harm they cause to Indigenous communities, you can count Universities among them. “Different pieces look at it in different ways, with the very conscious knowledge of where we are, who we are, what we’re doing here, how we acknowledge where we are,” Ulla continues, “Many of the students are very concerned about these questions and have found different means of responding to them. Some of them have been proactive in learning some indigenous languages; we have been looking very hard for someone to do a traditional Mohawk opening, which is becoming more of a custom to have a traditional honoring of the land and the hosts. That is an attempt to acknowledge where we are.” The way this project has gone about mitigating some of the exclusionary aspects of a University theatre class producing an Indigenous themed performance piece is to put the effort into prioritizing collaboration with Indigenous people in the Montreal area. Ulla speaks of the contributions of this community with great respect and admiration. “The key is to be able to work with indigenous collaborators.” Ulla explains, “Having [Anishinaabe/French artist] Emilie Monnet and Floyd Favel is key to getting this to work. To have their generosity and openness and inclusiveness be a guide to us has been invaluable,” she pauses, and opens her palms in offering, “All my thanks go to them.”

Rather than brush off questions about authenticity and good faith, Ulla embraces the ambiguity of gray areas, and doesn’t fight against her material circumstances, for better or worse. “The play starts in the library which in and of itself is, if you want, a very colonial institution,” Ulla gives as an example, “On the other hand, nowadays libraries have a very different function, especially in remote communities, they allow access to computers, printers, and certain services that aren’t readily available on reserves, for example,” she continues, “So, the library seemed like a good place to start, both in its problematic and its positive function,” she says frankly, “There are pieces that are clearly evoking this tension between colonial institutions and Indigenous perspective, and other places where it isn’t as prominent.” The purpose is not to create a politically pure piece of theatre, I get the sense Ulla doesn’t believe that exists, instead the purpose is to make the attempt, and perhaps share some well-sourced stories that might not have a chance to be heard, especially by the audience at Concordia University, and settler audiences generally. “It’s always hard to say what theatre does in terms of actually changing anything,” she acknowledges, “I think it’s more making room for a story and making room for people’s awareness to broaden.”

Dwellings runs from April 20th-23rd at Concordia University. For more information on the venue and where to get tickets,  click here.