CHICAGO: SHOW BIZ IS MURDER

The women are beautiful, the women are sexy, the women have spunk and humour and they can sing and strut and dance. They want to be stars, for a period of their lives they are stars and their desire to remain stars drives their every action. Their personality and talent and sexiness means that we want them to be stars as well, we follow their journies and we root for them

Oh yeh. One more thing.

The women are murderers

This is the world of Chicago, the Tony award winning musical currently running in Toronto at the Princess of Wales Theatre.

This play has been around a long time, it has been to Toronto before, but Collette and I have never before seen it. I did see the screen version many years ago; I enjoyed the movie very much and vowed that if ever returned here, we'd see it

Est voila

Chicago is the story of Roxy Hart and Velma Kelly, two showgirls during Prohibition era Chicago who gain fame not for their gams or their voices, but for the murders that land them in the Cook County jail. Velma is the elder "stateswoman" riding her tabloid fame to an acquittal and vaudeville tour .. both elements highly hopeful. Her reign as Chicago's most darling murderess is spoiled by the arrival of Roxy; younger fresher and with the blood of her lover fresh on her hands

Both women are represented by snake oil salesman (they call him a lawyer) Billy Flynn, who promises to get the women off their charges and on their way to fame. As he sings in his first solo, Billy does everything for love ... love here defined as 5,000 dollars

The play follows the two women in their quest for an innocent verdict and fame .. whichever comes first.

I remember Chicago the movie as being sexy and the stage version definitely does not shy back from that. The dancer's outfits seemed to have been designed by the strip club outlet of Victoria's Secret and the choreography is by Bob Fosse .. don't really need to say anything more

The play is way funnier than I remember the movie being; the film went for more pathos, there is some of that here, particularly in the character of Roxy's cuckoled husband and a Portugese showgirl/prisoner, but mostly the show goes for laughs and it gets them easily.

Bianca Marroquin as Roxy is a revelation; the woman can sing and she can dance but she is also an incredibly gifted physical commediene. Her facial expressions and body gestures are hilarious, she's like Lucille Ball in heels and stockings ... but with a better singing voice.

Equally effective and physically gifted is Terra MacLeod as Velma. She knows how to play to the back of the house, she has legs that go on for a month or two and her timing is impeccable. When the two women perform together you understand what the term "showstopper" means

The real surprise here is Elvis Stojko as Billy Flynn .. yes that Elvis. The figure skating Canadian dude.  His Billy is oily and arrogant, he wears his vintage suits with aplomb and there is an awful lot of strut in his walk. His singing voice is perfectly stage worthy and he uses it with a lot of confidence

C. Newcomer takes the small yet important supporting role of gossip columnist Mary Sunshine and turns it into something .. memorable. Trust me on this. One of the most surprising soprano's you've ever seen

As I noted this a Fosse choreographed show so the dancers are an important part of the production. They play multiple roles, are almost constantly on stage, and provide laughs, vocal support and sex appeal with such aplomb I swear the stage was melting

If the skilled and sexy dancers melt the floor, Carol Woods, as the jail's matron, blows the roof off with the most powerful voice in the cast. She also holds her own quite well in the comedy department.

The two performers who bring a touch of pathos to the show are Thomas Bevan as Roxy's sad sack husband a character so unremarkable he refers to himself as Mr Celophane and Naomi Kakuk as Hunyak, the one showgirl/murderer who does not live long enough to be a star and who's only command of English is the phrase "not guilty" and that, and not enough funds to hire Billy Flynn, does not bring you justice in Chicago

There is some social commentary here, about the pay for play legal system, about fame, about what our culture sees as important but that's all in the background; in the foreground is a hilarious, beautifully danced, well acted musical with a lot of moments and numbers that had the audience belly laughing and  cheering.

Chicago has come to Toronto. And it shows us that in the Carl Sandburg's city of the big shoulders, show biz really is murder

YOUR TRAGEDY HAS BEEN SCRIPTED

So today, as I'm puttering in my office, I'm flipping through the channels on my TV as I'm looking for something inane to watch, to have on as sort of background noise

Well, inane I found

It was one of those satirical mock news shows, like Stephen Colbert or John Stewart. Like those shows, they were using an actual well known news story as the jumping off point to poke fun at modern journalism

The stor was the missing Malaysian airplane. The one about which we know little: Someone on board deliberately (they think) shut off communications and diverted the plane from its original course. Beyond that there a few salient facts

But here on this satire show the hosts were mulling over theory after theory, flinging all kinds of speculative crap against the walls and not caring if any of it stuck. The "experts" they assemble are just journalists with no background or credentials and generally just yelling and wildly gesticulating over one another not to make a point, but to just gain face time on TV.

Chuckle chuckle

The "host" of the show is an actress and she does a great job of playing the role of what a female news anchor should not be; emotional, weepy, responding to tape of a mother crying and wailing by pressing her hand to her chest and staring out at the audience to say "It just breaks my heart" As if any journalist, of any gender, would make such a proclamation

Guffaw guffaw

The scene with the mother is real; she is at a press conference, surrounded by what appears to be hundreds of camermen as she is encouraged to ramp up her grief; this is TV mother, your words are not enough, could you possibly throw your hands up and toss your head back and maybe scream for us? The woman does indeed do this and the camearmen crush around her, enveloping her, literally knocking her off balance. As the poor woman is pushed to the floor the cameras follow her down so that she completely disappears

Back to the set of the fake news show the anchorwoman does not take this opportunity to critisize the media for not only ramping up the emotion but disregarding the mother's emotional and physical safety. Instead, sticking to her script, the actress presses both hands to her face, readies herself for her close up by biting her cheeks to get the tears welling and proclaims "Oh the tragedy of it all, that woman's scream will haunt our viewers for a generation to come"

Holy shit, some venomous, acid blooded satirical master penned that scream. Chortle chortle

I admired this show. By taking everything to a ridiculous level, by presenting journalists as profit whores who's only interest is to keep eyeballs on the screen with wild speculation, by outright lies and by doing what a journalist should never do .. by telling us how to feel about a story instead of us giving us data so that we can sort our our own response, and by encouraging real journalists (ie the cameramen and reporters at the conference) to influence the course of the story .. this brilliant satire shows us how a news program can go terribly terribly wrong

Golf claps all round

And the title of this clearly fake, satirical, made up TV news program? CNN

Ashes Linger

Ashes fall. Sparks rise upwards

I walk here where I have always walked. The place is always the same. It always changes

Dry pavement under my feet; rain slicked with street light calligraphy captured within; carpeted with brown leaves; hemmed by dirty snow

The place is always the same as it changes

I am changed as I remain the same

I walk forward into the wind; it pushes against me as I move into it. It pushes me back as I move forward

Time rushes towards me. I move into it. It pushes me back

I duck my head, hook my thumbs into the pockets of my jeans. I don't close my eyes, I want to feel the wind against my face, cold and sharp and filled with the scents of rain and snow and ash

Ashes fall

Wind skirls the ash around my legs. I walk through it. As I walk through the ash it is light and alive and it moves around me it swirls around me it touches me it embraces me it brushes against my face

As I move on I leave the ash behind. It settles behind me. Quiet. Still. With time it will show no evidence of my passing

Time rushes towards me, I feel it against me, it touches my face. It lays silent behind me

I hunch my shoulders and brush the hair out of my face

Sparks rise upward

Bright and sharp and twisting I smell the fire and the heat but it does not touch me, I do not feel it. It surrounds me. Swirls around me. Barbs of lambent light that etches shadows across my face.

I do not close my eyes

I pull my collar up around my throat. I walk on

This place is changing, it will always be here. Time pushes against me, it flows around me, it pushes past me

Behind me it is still and quiet with ash

I wait for the rain to come. To wash away the ash, sparks falling and dying in the rain.

I pull up my hood and turn my head slightly. Cold rain stings my face. The rain smells of ash

I walk on.

This place is always the same as it changes

TORONTO COMIC CON 2014: SUPERHEROES AND DALEKS AND COSPLAYERS, OH MY!

It's been a while since I've fallen down the rabbit hole

And by that I mean I have missed the last Toronto Comic Con in March and the last Fan Expo in August. So armed with my new video cam and my new iPod Touch and a back pack soon to be filled with graphic novels, away I scurry down the nerd rabbit hole

Not much has changed in my absence, thousands of comics, hundreds of collectables, dozens of promotions and superheroes and Daleks and cosplayers, oh my!

More and more these conventions are becoming family events, especially this one, held at the beginning of the March Break. Some families travelled from as far away as Middle Earth ...

and in at least one case I think a DNA test may be in order ..

Every comic con has its share of heroes, some with nationalistic appeal ...

some with appeal for my honey ...

and some .. well .. let's just call it appeal ...

It's not all fun and games and .. er .. costumes at Comic Con though. Oh no, sometimes it is very serious down the rabbit hole. Such as when (as you'll see in the video) the three Spidermen joined up for a photo op, only to be assaulted by The Riddler .. gasp .. Marvel and DC, together! Some people actually did gasp while others broke into an ardent debate about the two universes and any instances of merging and .. Yeh. Only at Comic Con

Our heroes will always keep us safe from interdimensional conundrums

My first comic con with my Sony NX cam. I shot at 1080p/60fps, a frame too high to actually upload but good if I needed to do slo mo and just, I think, pretty kick ass quality. Still in a nice handy little package

You be the judge. And remember, if you don't approve, I will sick Lego Batman on your ass

Toronto Comic Con 2014 from Victor Kellar on Vimeo.

WORKING LIKE A DOG

It's a tough life, led by the dogs of Dogtown

Everyday they have to get up, convene, sniff some things we don't like to think about, then drag my ass out of bed to exercise me

It's a bit exhausting for them. Apparently I have to be exercised every day

It's an effort that takes about eight dogs to properly perform

Still, they are a dedicated bunch

Just don't forget the cookies

In tribute to Bach Turner Overdrive's induction into the Juno Hall of Fame

Taking Care of Business .. Dogtown Style from Victor Kellar on Vimeo.

DRIFTING IN THE RIVER OF COFFEE

What is wrong with people?

OK that's not quite the right question, a bit too general

Same as asking: What's wrong with doofusses who write blogs asking what's wrong with people. No right answer there .. or so I shall tell myself

Let's narrow it down a tad more. Nicer weather has returned to Ontario so more people are out enjoying it and by doing so are reinforcing an observation I've made in the past. When people in Toronto go out, like outside, like walking, like not in their cars, no matter the reason why and really no matter the season, in this big multi cultural multi national city they seem to have one thing in common ...

They. Just. Can't. Get. Enough. Coffee.

Downtown with the shoppers, in the dog parks, at the outdoor (and indoor) rinks, there they are, the Toronto elite, toddling about (with their toddlers) transporting paper or styrofoam cups the size of old school Buick Regals

Those of you who know me (and everyday do you shed a tear of joy that you do so) may be screaming "Hypocrite!" and gesturing to the full sized cutout you have of me in your living room .. and if you don't have one of those, contact my people, we'll send you one out Xpress Post, only 139.99 but act now, we can't do this all day ...

Ahem

But here's the deal: I enjoy my coffee in the morning. I get up at the crack of noon ... ok at 8 am but a boy can dream can't he ... and I slug down maybe three or four cups before I start scooping up my dogs for the day. I don't take a coffee with me in the car. Driving around the city really doesn't lend itself to sipping a hot beverage. If I'm taking a hiway trip I may start out with a cup of coffee but it rarely gets finished in a two or three hour trip

But I never never ever seem to need to have a container of coffee with me when I'm out and about in the city. If I'm downtown with Collette or walking dogs, be the ones I'm paid for or Terra, I just never think of grabbing a coffee first, even in cold weather

If I'm out with Collette and we want a coffee we may take one out then we would go someplace and sit down to enjoy it. Maybe that's just age, one is always looking for an excuse to sit down. But having a coffee in my hand while I'm walking around seems .. awkward. When I'm with Collette one of my hands is always occupied with her ..

Now wait a minute, cool down, this is a family blog (no it isn't, your kids may never want to read this blog) so clean your mind. I'm talking about holding hands. We hold hands. Hey, I'm old, I need to be guided.

Certainly when I'm out with Terra I need free hands. Sometimes I have one hand on the leash. Being Terra, one hand almost always is occupied with a ball or a frisbee or a stick or Rubik's cube for the dog ... yes, a Rubik's cube. She's a border collie after all

Mind you, many of these coffee swillers who I meet in public dog parks have no problem with having a free hand while their other is clenched, claw like, around their paper cup. Hell, they use that free hand to clutch their cell phone, an incredibly essential piece of dog walking equipment .. apparently. God know they don't need a free hand to actually interact with their dogs. That's why they bring their dogs to these parks, so the owner can sit on a bench sipping a coffee and texting while screaming at their dog "PLAY!" Yeh, that works

The dogs should have coffee too, to keep them awake as they stand around, bored out of their brains

So, beyond the physical awkwardness involved with only have one hand free to play with your dog, hold hands with your Booboo (yes I said Booboo, just making sure you're paying attention) or to beat the crap out of those people on the street who invade your personal space with their too-white teeth and that freshly tazered gleam in their eyes to ask you "Have you heard the truth today" the other point is .. why do they need all this caffeine

I ask that last question because, even with these Jacuzzi sized containers of coffee in their hands, these people seem as alert as a dung beetle buried in a pile of poop

You try to talk to them and they just stare at you .. then of course they need to dig the ear buds out of their skull but even when they are now in a position to actually relate to another human being, they seem completely unable to do so

Maybe it isn't always coffee that they are swilling. But it's something hot, so tea or hot chocolate or a semialfredosoylattemochaespresso with extra foam and a dollop of Oxycodon.

Yeh, that may not keep you exactly alert

So what is the point. Well, in some cases, I do notice the artful placement of the coffee cup to show the logo of the brand and/or coffee shop even while being grasped in heavily manicured and glitter painted finger nails .. and the women do this too

That is, of course, a very Toronto thing. They aren't buying the coffee for the coffee, they are buying a brand. After you all, you are what you purchase

Then there are those who are actually drinking the coffee. It's cold outside, perhaps they are trying to keep warm but here's a clue for way too many people I see outside right now .. WEAR A FUCKING HAT, YOUR HAIR AIN'T THAT GORGEOUS ANYWAY

See, that's why your kids can't read this blog

It is an odd site, downtown on a sunny morning or a Friday night, sitting off to the side, watching the river of people flowing along, encaged in their "portable devices", the white containers in their hands bobbing around like boat bumpers as they careen off of each other, isolated and caffeinated, just flotsam, just debris, hands full, never touching

ARRABAL: DANCING AWAY THE PAIN

The women walk in a circle in the city square, they walk quietly heads wrapped in white scarves photographs hung around their necks, they are there every day, have been there for years, their sorrow hangs around their necks as do the photos and that sorrow that pain fills the air, rubbing up against the windows of the Presidential Palace and further up, out of the country of Argentina, into the world, where the pain of the women, the mothers of the Plaza de Mayo would eventually change everything ...

This is the world of Arrabal, a dance show currently running at the Panasonic Theatre in Toronto

Essentially this play is a ballet; there is no dialogue and there are no lyrics. The story is expressed through music, some audio visual aides and dance. The story takes place in Argentina so the dance, is of course, the tango. Or primarily the tango and versions thereof

The story opens during the regime of brutal dictator Rafael Videla who "disappeared" over 30,000 of his own citizens, anyone who protested his government, men and women, most of whom were kidnapped and tortured them murdered. So yeh ... this ain't Disney.

Arrabal is a young woman whose father is one of the Disappeared, taken by police 18 years earlier and his mother, Arrabal's grandmother, is one of the women of the Plaza de Mayo. Arrabal knows little of her father and neither women know of his exact fate; we the audience do, in a harrowing sequence we watch the man's arrest and torture and murder

The story is one of discovery, of Arrabal discovering her father's story, of the country discovering its new sense of self after the regime, of a young woman discovering her self in the bright lights of Buenos Ares ... and Tango is the medium through which all change is realized

The dancing and the staging is spectacular ranging from humorous (Arrabal is enticed to a tango palace run by her father's friend by a boneless, fluid, magical character) to poignant (the father's friend flashes back to an innocent time when he and his friend played soccer only to watch the man walk off to his doom) to sexy (Arrabal is emotionally and physically seduced by the dancers of the tango palace). Oh yeh, sexy in a way that only tango can deliver

The last two shows we've seen, Once and Heartbeat of Home featured bands that played on stage and interacted to some degree with the show. Arrabal was the same. The band fuses traditional tango instruments like the accordian with electric guitars and synths.

In addition to dance and music, the show uses a wide range of audio visual techniques to tell its story. Heartbeat of Home also used projections but they only added to the puzzlement of what that show was all about. In Arrabal, projections and lighting effects and audio serve to deepen and explain the story. In a sequence where the Mothers of the Plaza dream of dancing with their Disappeared sons, the back of stage is filled with pictures of those who were lost, one by one winking out into darkness; at the end of the number the grandmother is alone on the stage in her white scarf, holding the picture of her son when suddenly the theatre is filled with the pictures of those who were murdered, leaving the woman looking very small and very alone

Across the board the cast was incredibly strong, acting and dancing in a way that gave us every nuance of the story with no need for words. I don't much about the tango, I certainly don't know enough to understand whether or not this was a perfectly executed dance

But I do now that this is dance not just for the sake of dancing but dancing used as an expression, a wide range of expressions and that were moments of performance that made me catch my breath

The period of time described in Arrabal was one of pain for the people of Argentina. Through it all they had each other and had the tango. When the world is against you, when it seems all you can do is suffer and grieve, perhaps the best thing you can do is to dance away the pain