Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sample: Promotional Copy
Don't wear spandex to a wedding and don't wear a tuxedo to the gym.
COMMUNICATION: Know the rules.
(Come to think of it, just skip the spandex.)
COMMUNICATION: Know the rules.
(Come to think of it, just skip the spandex.)
Sample: CanLit Essay
“More Than an Outline and Music”:
Identity as Fractured in Michael Ondaatje’s Coming Through Slaughter
In the novel Coming Through Slaughter, Michael Ondaatje illustrates fractured identity through the lives and interactions of the characters. We glimpse small parts of their lives at a time, occasionally from the slightly skewed viewpoint of the primary character Buddy Bolden. We learn of his descent into madness at the beginning of the novel, and this piece of information notifies us that his perception of the world may be fallible and/or inaccurate at times. As he is the central focus of the novel, Bolden is the main example of a fractured identity but this concept is equally exemplified in the lives of those around him such as secondary characters like Tom Pickett, The Brewitts, and Webb. Concerning Slaughter, to view anyone’s identity as intact is an impossible desire: the novel itself is fragmented and reveals only small pieces of information at a time. One’s identity is comprised by whom they know and people’s opinions of them, and is portrayed as fractured in Coming Through Slaughter through the format of the prose as well at through the characters’ affects on and interactions with one another.
The format in which Slaughter is written--with its temporal leaps and narrative shifts that often change the reader’s perspective quickly--aids its portrayal of identity as fractured. The beginning of the novel is set years after Bolden’s death, but soon leaps back to the height of his career, then to his disappearance, before sliding back to when he married Nora (Ondaatje Coming Through Slaughter 2, 6, 13, 19). Within seventeen pages, time elapses over many years, during which Bolden reverts from being long buried to healthy and alive, changing from a successful barber and musician to a shadow on the brink of insanity. The history of Tom Pickett is revealed in a similarly abstract fashion, as the reader learns that he is physically and mentally scarred before glimpsing him as he was before Bolden’s attack. Pickett’s identity of the moment retrogrades as the story progresses, giving us a fragment of the man he once was before narrating how his persona was drastically altered in that brief expanse of time (68-72). There is no linearity on which to build concrete concepts of identity because of the temporal leaps that alter given facts along with the reader’s perception. What may be true at an instant may be rendered false or seen as inconceivable on the previous or next page. Thus it is impossible to shape finalized concepts of any character’s identity, because the temporal changes from scene to scene are apt to bring with them corresponding changes in the characters. There are also frequent changes in the narrative voice, creating gaps and possible incongruities in the history relayed. Each character offers a different perspective on events that occur. One example of a conflict in narrative personas is shown when Bolden goes crazy in the parade. Cornish is horrified, while Bolden seems relieved and welcomes his collapse (132). The reader is left to interpret which view of Bolden’s mentality is more correct and how his identity may have changed at that point. It is due to the frequent shifts in narrative voice and time that identity is shown as relative to an instant and therefore fractured, like a snapshot capturing the light of a single moment.
Identity is also shown to be dependent on the people one keeps company with, causing it to be fractured because different masks are presented to different crowds. Webb comments that Bolden “had lived a different life with every one of them [his family and friends]” (60). No one person or group, not his band, his clients, his wife or his children had ever seen every aspect of Buddy Bolden’s identity. This is equally applicable for those that surround him, as shown by reflections on their lives. When Bolden lives with the Brewitts, the three of them progress through “Jaelin and Robin. Jaelin and Robin and Bolden. Robin and Bolden” (62). They each get parts of one another but those parts change hands, disappear, or are replaced. In this respect, identity is illustrated as fractured - it alters because the nature of relationships dictates what facets of one’s identity are revealed. Bolden never sees the extent of Jaelin’s sexual side as it is reserved for Robin, just as Will Cornish never personally witnesses the extent of Bolden’s violent nature. Bellocq portrays another example of a fractured identity, as other characters’ opinions of him vary because of his different relationships with each of them. He and Bolden are intimate friends who “talked for hours” (61) and share a private world. However, Nora sees Bellocq as physically resembling “something squashed or run over by a horse” (124) and she “hated him” (127) for a number of reasons. Consequently those two characters do not associate intimately, nor do they present their qualities reserved for cherished relationships to the other. Different sides of the same character’s identity are observed in different situations, causing others to form their opinions of them based on the events they witness.
Experiences with the other characters--or occurrences in the plot--maintain the idea of identity as fractured because experiences alter and can even shatter a person’s psyche. “Nora’s Song” (11) can be viewed as a haunting illustration of the changes that Nora’s identity undergoes between her first meeting of Bolden and when he returns home from his absence. The long break between “over town/and then/dragging his bone home” (11) shows the fracturing of her identity between his disappearance and return. In a more positive change, when young Bolden and Webb get their apartment in Pontchartrain they “gradually paste their characters onto each other” (30). Both Webb and Bolden’s identities are rearranged because of their encounter and subsequent habitation with the other. Their individual identities quickly grow to be so blended that they become the other person, with Webb becoming introverted while Bolden becomes the well known public figure. In a more negative occurrence, Tom Pickett is psychologically altered for the worse when Bolden attacks him with the razor (70-72). This incident illustrates a definitive break, or separation, in identity: Pickett was widely admired and very sociable before the attack but presently gains a derogatory reputation because of its effects, as it causes a completely opposite character to form. After the attack he is reclusive, disfigured, and living a life of filth, for which people mockingly call him the “Fly King” (114). This is a sharp contrast to his past, as he was previously regarded as “one of the great hustlers, one of the most beautiful men in the District” (68). Here we see a drastically fractured identity, where it is not only cracked and shifted because of experience but some pieces are broken clean away and destroyed due to an overwhelmingly traumatic event.
Different degrees of this fracturing of identity are found throughout Coming Through Slaughter, with some examples being more extreme than others. Bolden is the most apparent archetype of such, as he is the focal point of the novel. However, the secondary characters also exhibit types of and reasons for fractured identity; we observe pieces of their characters coming “down to us in fragments” (2) as their identities undergo various changes throughout the progression of the narrative. Identity is shown as fractured in several ways, most frequently through the prose’s shifting narrators and its sometimes vast temporal leaps. Equally telling are the varying interactions and relationships between the characters, along with the experiences that significantly alter their lives. This semi-biographical fiction written about a relatively unknown man (who goes insane) is a good setting for Michael Ondaatje to illustrate the concept that people who are considered normal have identities that are equally fragmented as those who are mentally unstable.
Works Cited:
Ondaatje, Michael. Coming Through Slaughter. 1976. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 1998.
Identity as Fractured in Michael Ondaatje’s Coming Through Slaughter
In the novel Coming Through Slaughter, Michael Ondaatje illustrates fractured identity through the lives and interactions of the characters. We glimpse small parts of their lives at a time, occasionally from the slightly skewed viewpoint of the primary character Buddy Bolden. We learn of his descent into madness at the beginning of the novel, and this piece of information notifies us that his perception of the world may be fallible and/or inaccurate at times. As he is the central focus of the novel, Bolden is the main example of a fractured identity but this concept is equally exemplified in the lives of those around him such as secondary characters like Tom Pickett, The Brewitts, and Webb. Concerning Slaughter, to view anyone’s identity as intact is an impossible desire: the novel itself is fragmented and reveals only small pieces of information at a time. One’s identity is comprised by whom they know and people’s opinions of them, and is portrayed as fractured in Coming Through Slaughter through the format of the prose as well at through the characters’ affects on and interactions with one another.
The format in which Slaughter is written--with its temporal leaps and narrative shifts that often change the reader’s perspective quickly--aids its portrayal of identity as fractured. The beginning of the novel is set years after Bolden’s death, but soon leaps back to the height of his career, then to his disappearance, before sliding back to when he married Nora (Ondaatje Coming Through Slaughter 2, 6, 13, 19). Within seventeen pages, time elapses over many years, during which Bolden reverts from being long buried to healthy and alive, changing from a successful barber and musician to a shadow on the brink of insanity. The history of Tom Pickett is revealed in a similarly abstract fashion, as the reader learns that he is physically and mentally scarred before glimpsing him as he was before Bolden’s attack. Pickett’s identity of the moment retrogrades as the story progresses, giving us a fragment of the man he once was before narrating how his persona was drastically altered in that brief expanse of time (68-72). There is no linearity on which to build concrete concepts of identity because of the temporal leaps that alter given facts along with the reader’s perception. What may be true at an instant may be rendered false or seen as inconceivable on the previous or next page. Thus it is impossible to shape finalized concepts of any character’s identity, because the temporal changes from scene to scene are apt to bring with them corresponding changes in the characters. There are also frequent changes in the narrative voice, creating gaps and possible incongruities in the history relayed. Each character offers a different perspective on events that occur. One example of a conflict in narrative personas is shown when Bolden goes crazy in the parade. Cornish is horrified, while Bolden seems relieved and welcomes his collapse (132). The reader is left to interpret which view of Bolden’s mentality is more correct and how his identity may have changed at that point. It is due to the frequent shifts in narrative voice and time that identity is shown as relative to an instant and therefore fractured, like a snapshot capturing the light of a single moment.
Identity is also shown to be dependent on the people one keeps company with, causing it to be fractured because different masks are presented to different crowds. Webb comments that Bolden “had lived a different life with every one of them [his family and friends]” (60). No one person or group, not his band, his clients, his wife or his children had ever seen every aspect of Buddy Bolden’s identity. This is equally applicable for those that surround him, as shown by reflections on their lives. When Bolden lives with the Brewitts, the three of them progress through “Jaelin and Robin. Jaelin and Robin and Bolden. Robin and Bolden” (62). They each get parts of one another but those parts change hands, disappear, or are replaced. In this respect, identity is illustrated as fractured - it alters because the nature of relationships dictates what facets of one’s identity are revealed. Bolden never sees the extent of Jaelin’s sexual side as it is reserved for Robin, just as Will Cornish never personally witnesses the extent of Bolden’s violent nature. Bellocq portrays another example of a fractured identity, as other characters’ opinions of him vary because of his different relationships with each of them. He and Bolden are intimate friends who “talked for hours” (61) and share a private world. However, Nora sees Bellocq as physically resembling “something squashed or run over by a horse” (124) and she “hated him” (127) for a number of reasons. Consequently those two characters do not associate intimately, nor do they present their qualities reserved for cherished relationships to the other. Different sides of the same character’s identity are observed in different situations, causing others to form their opinions of them based on the events they witness.
Experiences with the other characters--or occurrences in the plot--maintain the idea of identity as fractured because experiences alter and can even shatter a person’s psyche. “Nora’s Song” (11) can be viewed as a haunting illustration of the changes that Nora’s identity undergoes between her first meeting of Bolden and when he returns home from his absence. The long break between “over town/and then/dragging his bone home” (11) shows the fracturing of her identity between his disappearance and return. In a more positive change, when young Bolden and Webb get their apartment in Pontchartrain they “gradually paste their characters onto each other” (30). Both Webb and Bolden’s identities are rearranged because of their encounter and subsequent habitation with the other. Their individual identities quickly grow to be so blended that they become the other person, with Webb becoming introverted while Bolden becomes the well known public figure. In a more negative occurrence, Tom Pickett is psychologically altered for the worse when Bolden attacks him with the razor (70-72). This incident illustrates a definitive break, or separation, in identity: Pickett was widely admired and very sociable before the attack but presently gains a derogatory reputation because of its effects, as it causes a completely opposite character to form. After the attack he is reclusive, disfigured, and living a life of filth, for which people mockingly call him the “Fly King” (114). This is a sharp contrast to his past, as he was previously regarded as “one of the great hustlers, one of the most beautiful men in the District” (68). Here we see a drastically fractured identity, where it is not only cracked and shifted because of experience but some pieces are broken clean away and destroyed due to an overwhelmingly traumatic event.
Different degrees of this fracturing of identity are found throughout Coming Through Slaughter, with some examples being more extreme than others. Bolden is the most apparent archetype of such, as he is the focal point of the novel. However, the secondary characters also exhibit types of and reasons for fractured identity; we observe pieces of their characters coming “down to us in fragments” (2) as their identities undergo various changes throughout the progression of the narrative. Identity is shown as fractured in several ways, most frequently through the prose’s shifting narrators and its sometimes vast temporal leaps. Equally telling are the varying interactions and relationships between the characters, along with the experiences that significantly alter their lives. This semi-biographical fiction written about a relatively unknown man (who goes insane) is a good setting for Michael Ondaatje to illustrate the concept that people who are considered normal have identities that are equally fragmented as those who are mentally unstable.
Works Cited:
Ondaatje, Michael. Coming Through Slaughter. 1976. Toronto: Vintage Canada, 1998.
Sample: F.A.Q.
(F.A.Q. created for an imaginary product.)
Q: What is Spider-B-Gone?
Spider-B-Gone is the most effective tool to eliminate insects, arachnids, and other many-legged pests in your home, business, cottage, vehicle... if you're bugged by bugs, Spider-B-Gone is there to help!
Q: How does it work?
When squeezed, the device emits a special sonar frequency designed to quickly overwhelm the insects' nervous systems. They die quickly, painlessly, and most importantly without any mess for you to clean up. The insects and arachnids will just curl up as they die - no more bug guts splattered on the wall or on the bottom of your favourite pair of shoes!
Q: How large of an area does it cover?
Spider-B-Gone works most effectively up to a range of 25'. (That covers the distance of an average-sized living room.)
Q: What about humans? Doesn't it affect them?
Not at all! Spider-B-Gone was designed and extensively tested by a large group of electrochemical engineers to be the best and safest product available to consumers. The size of the sonar waves emitted are not even large enough to harm small mammals - like mice - and the pitch is only perceptible to insects and arachnids. Spider-B-Gone also has special built-in features designed to inform it when the device is being pointed directly at a human (or other mammal, like the family pet.) Unless it is being pointed at an arachnid or insect, it won't release any sonar waves.
Q: Are there any adverse effects to using Spider-B-Gone?
Absolutely not! Unlike all those pesky sprays and poisons, there are no harmful chemicals to breathe in or ingest. Spider-B-Gone is more efficient, more accurate, and you'll see results instantly.
Q: How fast do the sonar waves travel?
At the speed of sound, of course! No spider can outrun that, though many have tried.
Q: Who can use it?
Spider-B-Gone is recommended for ages 12 to adult, though younger children and adolescents can use it with parental supervision as there are no harmful effects. (It should be made clear that the device is not a toy.)
Q: How was the product developed?
Over a three year period, electrochemical engineers spent countless hours in the laboratory drawing initial blueprints and determining the sonar frequency that was "just right" for killing insects and arachnids while not affecting anything else in the home environment. Prototypes were designed and tested on a wide variety of household pests, and after being FDA approved, Spider-B-Gone was made available to the general public.
Q: How long has it been on the market?
Spider-B-Gone was released in January of this year, and has already received nationwide attention. Our product specialists have appeared at trade shows, product demonstrations, and even on national television!
Q: Where can Spider-B-Gone be purchased?
All models in the Spider-B-Gone insect elimination family can be purchased at major department stores, including Zellers, Sears, The Bay, K-Mart, and Target.
Q: What is Spider-B-Gone?
Spider-B-Gone is the most effective tool to eliminate insects, arachnids, and other many-legged pests in your home, business, cottage, vehicle... if you're bugged by bugs, Spider-B-Gone is there to help!
Q: How does it work?
When squeezed, the device emits a special sonar frequency designed to quickly overwhelm the insects' nervous systems. They die quickly, painlessly, and most importantly without any mess for you to clean up. The insects and arachnids will just curl up as they die - no more bug guts splattered on the wall or on the bottom of your favourite pair of shoes!
Q: How large of an area does it cover?
Spider-B-Gone works most effectively up to a range of 25'. (That covers the distance of an average-sized living room.)
Q: What about humans? Doesn't it affect them?
Not at all! Spider-B-Gone was designed and extensively tested by a large group of electrochemical engineers to be the best and safest product available to consumers. The size of the sonar waves emitted are not even large enough to harm small mammals - like mice - and the pitch is only perceptible to insects and arachnids. Spider-B-Gone also has special built-in features designed to inform it when the device is being pointed directly at a human (or other mammal, like the family pet.) Unless it is being pointed at an arachnid or insect, it won't release any sonar waves.
Q: Are there any adverse effects to using Spider-B-Gone?
Absolutely not! Unlike all those pesky sprays and poisons, there are no harmful chemicals to breathe in or ingest. Spider-B-Gone is more efficient, more accurate, and you'll see results instantly.
Q: How fast do the sonar waves travel?
At the speed of sound, of course! No spider can outrun that, though many have tried.
Q: Who can use it?
Spider-B-Gone is recommended for ages 12 to adult, though younger children and adolescents can use it with parental supervision as there are no harmful effects. (It should be made clear that the device is not a toy.)
Q: How was the product developed?
Over a three year period, electrochemical engineers spent countless hours in the laboratory drawing initial blueprints and determining the sonar frequency that was "just right" for killing insects and arachnids while not affecting anything else in the home environment. Prototypes were designed and tested on a wide variety of household pests, and after being FDA approved, Spider-B-Gone was made available to the general public.
Q: How long has it been on the market?
Spider-B-Gone was released in January of this year, and has already received nationwide attention. Our product specialists have appeared at trade shows, product demonstrations, and even on national television!
Q: Where can Spider-B-Gone be purchased?
All models in the Spider-B-Gone insect elimination family can be purchased at major department stores, including Zellers, Sears, The Bay, K-Mart, and Target.
Sample: Remembrance Article
(Written while in high school, for school newsletter. Later revised for local paper.)
Life is precious...
By: Emily Schooley
On November 9, 1999, the students and staff of Port High lost someone who was very dear to many of them. Chad Simon had his life tragically cut short when he was involved in a fatal car accident. Chad had graduated from Port High several years ago, but was planning on returning next semester to be a student teacher in Mrs. Kramer's class. He had been studying at Brock University, and was on his way there when the accident happened. Chad was also a great athlete, with both excellent skills and sportsmanship. He played minor hockey in Port Colborne and Welland, as well as playing lacrosse with the Pelham Raiders, and he also played baseball with the Port Colborne Recreational Slo-Pitch Association. Chad also had just been appointed to serve on the Youth Judicial Committee, which is a community agency that attempts to reform first-time offenders. Mayor Vance Badaway said of Chad: "He comes from a great family and was a really great guy. This is a great loss to the community." Truly it is a great loss, and Chad will be sadly missed and remembered by family and friends. His funeral took place on November 13th, and he was buried at Oakwood Cemetery. There is a memorial fund set up in is honor, and all proceeds from it go to our school's library.
Life is precious...
By: Emily Schooley
On November 9, 1999, the students and staff of Port High lost someone who was very dear to many of them. Chad Simon had his life tragically cut short when he was involved in a fatal car accident. Chad had graduated from Port High several years ago, but was planning on returning next semester to be a student teacher in Mrs. Kramer's class. He had been studying at Brock University, and was on his way there when the accident happened. Chad was also a great athlete, with both excellent skills and sportsmanship. He played minor hockey in Port Colborne and Welland, as well as playing lacrosse with the Pelham Raiders, and he also played baseball with the Port Colborne Recreational Slo-Pitch Association. Chad also had just been appointed to serve on the Youth Judicial Committee, which is a community agency that attempts to reform first-time offenders. Mayor Vance Badaway said of Chad: "He comes from a great family and was a really great guy. This is a great loss to the community." Truly it is a great loss, and Chad will be sadly missed and remembered by family and friends. His funeral took place on November 13th, and he was buried at Oakwood Cemetery. There is a memorial fund set up in is honor, and all proceeds from it go to our school's library.
Sample: Newspaper Column
(I wrote for the local paper under a pseudonym when I was in high school.)
Serena Says...
By Serena Anderson
Hello Everyone!
Welcome to the first installment of my weekly column in the InPort. I'm Serena Anderson. I'm your typical high school student, with average grades, average looks, an average family, and a few average extra-curricular activities. I have (some of) the same likes and dislikes as you, and a lot of the same problems. I'm here to entertain you, help you with your problems, and to keep you up to date on what's going on here in Port. This is my first column, and hopefully, I'll have many more to write. I'd love to know what you think. You can send me any love/hate mail, any problems you need help with, any art/comics, or anything else you'd like to see in print. I can't promise to publish everything, but I'll try. Now, to get on to the fun stuff!
Say What?!
(This is my quote of the week. It's usually some funky little phrase that catches my eye (or ear.))
"Follow your bliss."~Joeseph Campbell
Personally, this little quote has a lot of impact for me, mainly because I'm following my bliss right now.
Check This Out!
(This is my CD/book/movie review.)
This week, I chose my (new) favourite CD: Sarah McLachlan's Mirrorball. It's been constantly repeating in my CD player for about a week. (Yep, my mother is starting to go nuts!) Mirrorball is a live compilation of Sarah's greatest hits. I love all of her songs, but these are the cream of the crop. Mirrorball includes 'Building A Mystery,' 'I Will Remember You,' 'Posession,' 'Ice Cream,' and 'Angel', plus all of her other chart-toppers. As if the songs themselves weren't reason enough to get it, the album also has the lyrics to all the songs, so you can finally learn the right words to sing. If you're like me, you'll be singing these songs a lot! The CD itself looks like a disco ball, which I thought was pretty cool too. In total, I give Mirrorball 5 out of 5 stars. I say run out and buy it!
Your Opinions:
(This is my monthly poll.)
This month's topic is: What is your favourite thing to order when you go to Tim Horton's?
a cappuchino, a donut, an iced cappuchino, Timbits, a Swiss Mocha, a muffin, or something else (be sure to tell me what that something else is.) Send in your answers right away, so I can count them! The results will be published in December.
What's (Coming) Up:
(this is my list of movies, CDs, books, and anything else interesting that's coming out soon.)
Movies:
Pokemon: The First Movie-November 12 (okay, so Pokemon is a little cheesy, but they're so cute!)
The Messenger-November 12
CDs:
Cher: Greatest Hits-November 16
Well, I guess that's about it for this week. Remember to send me your responses for the poll, as well as any problems you'd like me to help solve. See ya next week!
Mail for Serena can be sent to:
Serena Anderson c/o The Tribune,
149 King St., Port Colborne, Ont.
L3K 4G3
Serena Says...
By Serena Anderson
Hello Everyone!
Welcome to the first installment of my weekly column in the InPort. I'm Serena Anderson. I'm your typical high school student, with average grades, average looks, an average family, and a few average extra-curricular activities. I have (some of) the same likes and dislikes as you, and a lot of the same problems. I'm here to entertain you, help you with your problems, and to keep you up to date on what's going on here in Port. This is my first column, and hopefully, I'll have many more to write. I'd love to know what you think. You can send me any love/hate mail, any problems you need help with, any art/comics, or anything else you'd like to see in print. I can't promise to publish everything, but I'll try. Now, to get on to the fun stuff!
Say What?!
(This is my quote of the week. It's usually some funky little phrase that catches my eye (or ear.))
"Follow your bliss."~Joeseph Campbell
Personally, this little quote has a lot of impact for me, mainly because I'm following my bliss right now.
Check This Out!
(This is my CD/book/movie review.)
This week, I chose my (new) favourite CD: Sarah McLachlan's Mirrorball. It's been constantly repeating in my CD player for about a week. (Yep, my mother is starting to go nuts!) Mirrorball is a live compilation of Sarah's greatest hits. I love all of her songs, but these are the cream of the crop. Mirrorball includes 'Building A Mystery,' 'I Will Remember You,' 'Posession,' 'Ice Cream,' and 'Angel', plus all of her other chart-toppers. As if the songs themselves weren't reason enough to get it, the album also has the lyrics to all the songs, so you can finally learn the right words to sing. If you're like me, you'll be singing these songs a lot! The CD itself looks like a disco ball, which I thought was pretty cool too. In total, I give Mirrorball 5 out of 5 stars. I say run out and buy it!
Your Opinions:
(This is my monthly poll.)
This month's topic is: What is your favourite thing to order when you go to Tim Horton's?
a cappuchino, a donut, an iced cappuchino, Timbits, a Swiss Mocha, a muffin, or something else (be sure to tell me what that something else is.) Send in your answers right away, so I can count them! The results will be published in December.
What's (Coming) Up:
(this is my list of movies, CDs, books, and anything else interesting that's coming out soon.)
Movies:
Pokemon: The First Movie-November 12 (okay, so Pokemon is a little cheesy, but they're so cute!)
The Messenger-November 12
CDs:
Cher: Greatest Hits-November 16
Well, I guess that's about it for this week. Remember to send me your responses for the poll, as well as any problems you'd like me to help solve. See ya next week!
Mail for Serena can be sent to:
Serena Anderson c/o The Tribune,
149 King St., Port Colborne, Ont.
L3K 4G3
Sample: Fiction, third person
When she met the saint she fell weeping at his feet.
Lesser Saint Peter, a man far too familiar to the original, was the one who caused the changes in her. His lips moved only to grant prayers, not to offer prayers of his own. And if there were sins on his lips, he did not speak of them or where they went. He would grant all prayers but one, and this is what frustrated her most.
A saint. A goddamn saint was testing her, pushing her, destroying her from the inside out. His was the purest, most potent love she had tasted; that knowledge, that feeling made her weep uncessantly, all the more so because the saint would not move to grant her prayer. Compounding that injury was the knowledge that she could not move to tempt a saint, and if she did, it would be her fault for corrupting him.
From the beginning, Mia remained in her cat form whenever he was around. She would sit in his lap, a sleek Siamese, or trot after him, a small black cat. When she was not human, it was easier to ignore the bands of pressure in her chest. He did not adore her as she did him - he merely loved her, as he loved all other living creatures. She ached for him, for contact with him. Being apart became agony, she lived for his gentle hand on her head. Lesser Saint Peter offered her the Garden of Eden, and she was content to stay far from the fruit.
Deep inside, she recognized that she could not stay beside him forever, and that tore at her more than her unrequited love. Lesser Saint Peter would be only a prayer's breath away whenever she needed him, but because he would not fulfil the one thing she needed most of him, she knew that she would have to go elsewhere. Being in his presence hurt because of this knowledge, but what pained her even more was the knowledge that she would have to go elsewhere.
She chose to walk away slowly, as a human. He did not call out to stop her.
Lesser Saint Peter, a man far too familiar to the original, was the one who caused the changes in her. His lips moved only to grant prayers, not to offer prayers of his own. And if there were sins on his lips, he did not speak of them or where they went. He would grant all prayers but one, and this is what frustrated her most.
A saint. A goddamn saint was testing her, pushing her, destroying her from the inside out. His was the purest, most potent love she had tasted; that knowledge, that feeling made her weep uncessantly, all the more so because the saint would not move to grant her prayer. Compounding that injury was the knowledge that she could not move to tempt a saint, and if she did, it would be her fault for corrupting him.
From the beginning, Mia remained in her cat form whenever he was around. She would sit in his lap, a sleek Siamese, or trot after him, a small black cat. When she was not human, it was easier to ignore the bands of pressure in her chest. He did not adore her as she did him - he merely loved her, as he loved all other living creatures. She ached for him, for contact with him. Being apart became agony, she lived for his gentle hand on her head. Lesser Saint Peter offered her the Garden of Eden, and she was content to stay far from the fruit.
Deep inside, she recognized that she could not stay beside him forever, and that tore at her more than her unrequited love. Lesser Saint Peter would be only a prayer's breath away whenever she needed him, but because he would not fulfil the one thing she needed most of him, she knew that she would have to go elsewhere. Being in his presence hurt because of this knowledge, but what pained her even more was the knowledge that she would have to go elsewhere.
She chose to walk away slowly, as a human. He did not call out to stop her.
Sample: Fiction, first person
When things are good, I am soaring at the top of the world. I know that the inevitable crash will come but choose to only look through the small, warm window that brings light and love to my dark corners.
In the middle of a summer heat, we are the eye of the storm. Kieren and I are lips and tongues and teeth and flesh, melding into one. Making love to him is like drinking a sweet ice wine - I cannot get enough, but each kiss and his hands on my back make me perpetually drunker. Finally we collapse together, fall asleep a tangled mess of limbs, and then wake as the sun is going down, only to make love again.
When the stars hang heavy and my eyelids droop, I know that in the morning it will seem only a dream. We will be business and he will inevitably hurt me somehow, as that is what we do. Some things are written in stone, and the only thing to be changed is one's reaction to them.
As long there is saccharine to numb the pain, I will stay.
In the middle of a summer heat, we are the eye of the storm. Kieren and I are lips and tongues and teeth and flesh, melding into one. Making love to him is like drinking a sweet ice wine - I cannot get enough, but each kiss and his hands on my back make me perpetually drunker. Finally we collapse together, fall asleep a tangled mess of limbs, and then wake as the sun is going down, only to make love again.
When the stars hang heavy and my eyelids droop, I know that in the morning it will seem only a dream. We will be business and he will inevitably hurt me somehow, as that is what we do. Some things are written in stone, and the only thing to be changed is one's reaction to them.
As long there is saccharine to numb the pain, I will stay.
Sample: Poetry (ii)
If they were in love, they would never admit it.
Silent grey buildings, with their peeling paint
and rusted railings, shutters hanging open
staring like half-dead Cyclops, were the sole
keepers of secrets.
He followed her at night, or so she was told later.
"When and why and for how long?"
Words never breathed and so never answered.
The morning mist curled around her lazily,
ghostly fingers lingering on bare ankles.
She was making her way
one foot at a time
toward the rushing water.
The dirty Detroit River -
no splendid sight at sunrise,
sunset,
or any time in between.
It wasn't much of anything, but she was swept away.
Silent grey buildings, with their peeling paint
and rusted railings, shutters hanging open
staring like half-dead Cyclops, were the sole
keepers of secrets.
He followed her at night, or so she was told later.
"When and why and for how long?"
Words never breathed and so never answered.
The morning mist curled around her lazily,
ghostly fingers lingering on bare ankles.
She was making her way
one foot at a time
toward the rushing water.
The dirty Detroit River -
no splendid sight at sunrise,
sunset,
or any time in between.
It wasn't much of anything, but she was swept away.
Sample: Poetry (i)
today is the steady resonance of summer rain on the roof
and the bittersweet taste of half-ruined harvest
wont but not wanting to remember you
(doing both anyway)
from the sleeve of a denim coat
just how your fingers emerged to take mine
on that day when the weather could not make up its mind
and neither could we
but we reached for each other with all the hopes
that our tongues later could never quite define
there was a sadness in you when you saw my adornments
you'd resigned yourself
to some unwritten belief that I was only temporary
but I reached for you that day too
and we laughed as the first snowfall surprised us
warm November night;
in coldest winter you drifted away
rescinding months is a great temptation
but
I refuse to spend September subtly holding hands
only to be lost by the winter again
and the bittersweet taste of half-ruined harvest
wont but not wanting to remember you
(doing both anyway)
from the sleeve of a denim coat
just how your fingers emerged to take mine
on that day when the weather could not make up its mind
and neither could we
but we reached for each other with all the hopes
that our tongues later could never quite define
there was a sadness in you when you saw my adornments
you'd resigned yourself
to some unwritten belief that I was only temporary
but I reached for you that day too
and we laughed as the first snowfall surprised us
warm November night;
in coldest winter you drifted away
rescinding months is a great temptation
but
I refuse to spend September subtly holding hands
only to be lost by the winter again
Sample: Television Script
(The characters in the following are agents in a government office.)
A SHADOW SHALL FALL - I SEE DEAD PEOPLE
TEASER: NORMAL AGAIN?
INT. STATION 15 INNER OFFICE - DAY
A ceiling fan drones overhead, spinning lazily as various shadows flicker across the ceiling. RICE sits at his desk, typing on several computers at once. O’BANNON twirls lazily in her chair, chewing on the end of a pencil and occasionally scribbling numbers into a Sudoku book. The room is silent, aside from these noises.
O’BANNON
What do you mean, you’re not a nine? You have to be a nine! What did I miss?
RICE
(in an Elmer Fudd voice)
Are those rascally numbers outsmarting you?
O’BANNON
Listen here, Marky Mark. Just because I’m sure you can also do these puzzles in hex and binary-
RICE
I love it when you talk nerdy to me.
O’BANNON
I’m going to ignore that, under the assumption that you’d like all your anatomy to remain where it currently is.
RICE
You are wise, young Padawan.
O’BANNON
Anyway. Do you want some coffee? I’m going to put some on.
RICE
(like a zombie)
Coffeeeeee.
O’BANNON
I’ll take that as a yes. With all the fun last night, I think I may’ve gotten an hour’s sleep at most.
O’BANNON goes to the coffee machine and begins to make coffee. A Nerf dart goes whizzing by her ear, just as an alarm sounds.
OPENING/COMMERCIAL
A SHADOW SHALL FALL - I SEE DEAD PEOPLE
TEASER: NORMAL AGAIN?
INT. STATION 15 INNER OFFICE - DAY
A ceiling fan drones overhead, spinning lazily as various shadows flicker across the ceiling. RICE sits at his desk, typing on several computers at once. O’BANNON twirls lazily in her chair, chewing on the end of a pencil and occasionally scribbling numbers into a Sudoku book. The room is silent, aside from these noises.
O’BANNON
What do you mean, you’re not a nine? You have to be a nine! What did I miss?
RICE
(in an Elmer Fudd voice)
Are those rascally numbers outsmarting you?
O’BANNON
Listen here, Marky Mark. Just because I’m sure you can also do these puzzles in hex and binary-
RICE
I love it when you talk nerdy to me.
O’BANNON
I’m going to ignore that, under the assumption that you’d like all your anatomy to remain where it currently is.
RICE
You are wise, young Padawan.
O’BANNON
Anyway. Do you want some coffee? I’m going to put some on.
RICE
(like a zombie)
Coffeeeeee.
O’BANNON
I’ll take that as a yes. With all the fun last night, I think I may’ve gotten an hour’s sleep at most.
O’BANNON goes to the coffee machine and begins to make coffee. A Nerf dart goes whizzing by her ear, just as an alarm sounds.
RICE
It wasn’t me, I swear!
O’BANNON
I guess a little peace and quiet was too much to hope for. Looks like we’re being called.
RICE
Time to suit up!
O’BANNON
Please tell me we can at least hit a drive-thru on the way?
It wasn’t me, I swear!
O’BANNON
I guess a little peace and quiet was too much to hope for. Looks like we’re being called.
RICE
Time to suit up!
O’BANNON
Please tell me we can at least hit a drive-thru on the way?
OPENING/COMMERCIAL
Sample: Travel Journal (Personal)
The Time Between Meeting
...and finally leaving is sometimes called falling in love.
My adventure here is more than half over now, and that makes me rather sad. Of course I still have a lot to do before I go, but knowing that the time to leave is coming... I really don`t have the words to express my true affection for Japan. Yet, I know I`ll be back again someday, and I have a lot to get back to in Canada that won`t wait forever.
I`m on a free period, and I know everyone has been dying to hear more about Japan, so here goes. ^-^
My weekend was amazing. Saturday night after I posted, I met one of Okaa-san`s friends, Ken-san. He was so excited to talk to me, told me I was beautiful, and other fun stuff. We talked for a bit, and his energy was really refreshing. He was just so...spirited.
After that, we went bowling. I did horribly, but had a blast anyway. At least there was no me flying down the lane with the ball attached to my fingers this time around. (Which has happened before, for the record.) I love Japan at night...the lights of the big city in the distance, the deep voices of the frogs, the stars and moon, the pure black shadows of the mountains. It`s just so alive. I know I`ve said it before, but my host family has been just simply amazing to me.
Anyway, Sunday morning, we headed off leisurely for Koya-san. While it is a mountain, the name Koya-san is usually used to refer to the alpine basin near the top of said mountain. We drove for a long time, but finally reached the gateway to said basin; we stopped to admire the view from the top...SO high up, and the air was just amazing. Fresh and crisp, but not cold. Got a few photos of the view from the edge, and of Daimon, the giant gate guarding the Western entrance. Oh, so ornate! The colour was a rich vermillion, with carvings of birds and flowers, as well as two large stone warrior guardians. Simply beautiful.
Koya-san was a lovely little town. We parked the car and got out and walked. Stopped at a few temples along the way (there were MANY), and walked through an amazing cemetery. There were stone mausoleums, effigies, shrines EVERYWHERE, nestled amongst ancient, amazing trees. These trees were probably 10 feet around, some of them, and hundreds of feet tall. It was just so peaceful in the cemetery...again, I don`t have words to properly, adquately describe the place. Beautiful is the only one that doesn`t sound cheap - I want to say "gorgeous" but I think that sounds superficial, just a few steps from idiotic Paris Hilton clones who exclaim "Oh, that`s hawt!" The latter has no place in Japan.
Anyway...at the end of the cemetery was a Buddhist retreat/temple. The only word I have for it is breathtaking. As soon as I set foot on the grounds, I felt a profound sense of being, the best I can describe it now was feeling everything at once. The energy of the place was amazing, and the smell of incense everywhere, along with the rhythmic chanting of monks. Again, I don`t have words to describe the beauty of their voices. I watched Minami offer libations of water to effigies of Japanese gods, and then we went to the temple itself. As this was a sacred area, I couldn`t take photographs - which, I wouldn`tve anyway, the essence of being there is not something that can be captured in a photograph. So amazing. Here, I found clues toward my next quest, which again will not be spoken of in a public forum.
After the temple was another onzen (hot spring), which I have also grown to love deeply and will miss when back home in Canada. It`s like a hot bath, only more wonderful...even sitting in a hot tub, while it is "onaji gurai" (around the same thing) is not the thing of being at an onzen itself. My head and heart, however, were still far away from the visit to the temple...
The past two days have been uneventful; there`s volleyball again tonight, and I`m going to Tokyo for the first time tomorrow. However, I`m apparently going to Tokyo not just once, but twice. Basically, my host family had asked me if Espe and I were going to go to Disneyworld in Tokyo. I told them no, as it was too expensive, etcetc. They replied "sou desu ne" ... and promptly started to plan to take me to Disneyworld! They told me not to worry about how expensive it is, blahblahblah. I owe these people my heart and soul. Seriously. This is beyond just being spoiled.
So long story short, I`m returning from Tokyo on Thursday night with Espe. Friday night, I`m departing again for Tokyo. We`re going to stay at the Disney Resort, and return on Sunday. Craziness. But it feels so wonderful, to be adored this much.
...and finally leaving is sometimes called falling in love.
My adventure here is more than half over now, and that makes me rather sad. Of course I still have a lot to do before I go, but knowing that the time to leave is coming... I really don`t have the words to express my true affection for Japan. Yet, I know I`ll be back again someday, and I have a lot to get back to in Canada that won`t wait forever.
I`m on a free period, and I know everyone has been dying to hear more about Japan, so here goes. ^-^
My weekend was amazing. Saturday night after I posted, I met one of Okaa-san`s friends, Ken-san. He was so excited to talk to me, told me I was beautiful, and other fun stuff. We talked for a bit, and his energy was really refreshing. He was just so...spirited.
After that, we went bowling. I did horribly, but had a blast anyway. At least there was no me flying down the lane with the ball attached to my fingers this time around. (Which has happened before, for the record.) I love Japan at night...the lights of the big city in the distance, the deep voices of the frogs, the stars and moon, the pure black shadows of the mountains. It`s just so alive. I know I`ve said it before, but my host family has been just simply amazing to me.
Anyway, Sunday morning, we headed off leisurely for Koya-san. While it is a mountain, the name Koya-san is usually used to refer to the alpine basin near the top of said mountain. We drove for a long time, but finally reached the gateway to said basin; we stopped to admire the view from the top...SO high up, and the air was just amazing. Fresh and crisp, but not cold. Got a few photos of the view from the edge, and of Daimon, the giant gate guarding the Western entrance. Oh, so ornate! The colour was a rich vermillion, with carvings of birds and flowers, as well as two large stone warrior guardians. Simply beautiful.
Koya-san was a lovely little town. We parked the car and got out and walked. Stopped at a few temples along the way (there were MANY), and walked through an amazing cemetery. There were stone mausoleums, effigies, shrines EVERYWHERE, nestled amongst ancient, amazing trees. These trees were probably 10 feet around, some of them, and hundreds of feet tall. It was just so peaceful in the cemetery...again, I don`t have words to properly, adquately describe the place. Beautiful is the only one that doesn`t sound cheap - I want to say "gorgeous" but I think that sounds superficial, just a few steps from idiotic Paris Hilton clones who exclaim "Oh, that`s hawt!" The latter has no place in Japan.
Anyway...at the end of the cemetery was a Buddhist retreat/temple. The only word I have for it is breathtaking. As soon as I set foot on the grounds, I felt a profound sense of being, the best I can describe it now was feeling everything at once. The energy of the place was amazing, and the smell of incense everywhere, along with the rhythmic chanting of monks. Again, I don`t have words to describe the beauty of their voices. I watched Minami offer libations of water to effigies of Japanese gods, and then we went to the temple itself. As this was a sacred area, I couldn`t take photographs - which, I wouldn`tve anyway, the essence of being there is not something that can be captured in a photograph. So amazing. Here, I found clues toward my next quest, which again will not be spoken of in a public forum.
After the temple was another onzen (hot spring), which I have also grown to love deeply and will miss when back home in Canada. It`s like a hot bath, only more wonderful...even sitting in a hot tub, while it is "onaji gurai" (around the same thing) is not the thing of being at an onzen itself. My head and heart, however, were still far away from the visit to the temple...
The past two days have been uneventful; there`s volleyball again tonight, and I`m going to Tokyo for the first time tomorrow. However, I`m apparently going to Tokyo not just once, but twice. Basically, my host family had asked me if Espe and I were going to go to Disneyworld in Tokyo. I told them no, as it was too expensive, etcetc. They replied "sou desu ne" ... and promptly started to plan to take me to Disneyworld! They told me not to worry about how expensive it is, blahblahblah. I owe these people my heart and soul. Seriously. This is beyond just being spoiled.
So long story short, I`m returning from Tokyo on Thursday night with Espe. Friday night, I`m departing again for Tokyo. We`re going to stay at the Disney Resort, and return on Sunday. Craziness. But it feels so wonderful, to be adored this much.
Sample: Personal Blog
Tonight, I have the smells of the city and of the day fully saturated in my skin. It's funny how smell triggers memory.
(& just what/who I am thinking of at any given second)
I love long drives, especially ones late into the night with a CD of good music at hand. I also love time to think alone in my car, and a highway stretching out before me. I love that I've finally figured out how to drive and get places without trying - there's a momentary panic that I am somehow lost, but somehow, I find my way.
I'm going to be very tired tomorrow - it's nearly 1:30 am and I still have dishes to do, and there's just an empty bed upstairs coz Tim is coming back tomorrow, now - but I wanted to write a bit, because I've had a totally awesome weekend and the good things need to be written down too.
I got to ride a horse on Saturday, for the first time in years and years. I found a local farm that wants volunteers... so I'm going to try and be out there whenever possible. I'm ridiculously happy to just be near horses again. They're such intelligent and magnificent creatures. I'm still (re-)learning how to do things like get them to take their bit, how to catch them in the pasture, how to lead them and get them to work co-operatively with me... but I'm getting there. Riding is a definite plus, and I'm getting into learning all the horses' personalities... but honestly? I'd be content just to groom them all day and love them. They're darn affectionate, and curious as anything. They're also like 2000 lb puppies, when it comes down to it. One day, I'll have my own horse...
Yesterday/this morning was also Tina's housewarming, and so I went and met a bunch of awesome new people, and have generally had a busy day of seeing as many people as possible.
Tina was kind enough to inflict breakfast upon us at 8 am this morning, and after such, Kimi and I went and surprised Megan by showing up at her work. We chatted while Megan got ready for the day, and then Megan's parents showed up randomly too, so I said hi to them.
When Megan actually had to work, Kimi and I left to head back into the city. Kimi went home, and I urgently called Trevor to see what he was up to. We met up, went to the park, had ice cream... generally, the good stuff, along with a lot of bitching about life, the universe, and everything. We also decided that should he and Sarah W. ever procreate, they would have musical genius children... but since he and Sarah are already far too alike, that would be a Bad Idea.
Later, I met up with Kael, coz we haven't had proper face-time in about half a year. As always, it was a good visit, and I got the joy of backing out of an extremely narrow driveway on my way home.
Now it's about quarter to 2, so I'm going to do dishes and go to bed. Love to you all. <3
(& just what/who I am thinking of at any given second)
I love long drives, especially ones late into the night with a CD of good music at hand. I also love time to think alone in my car, and a highway stretching out before me. I love that I've finally figured out how to drive and get places without trying - there's a momentary panic that I am somehow lost, but somehow, I find my way.
I'm going to be very tired tomorrow - it's nearly 1:30 am and I still have dishes to do, and there's just an empty bed upstairs coz Tim is coming back tomorrow, now - but I wanted to write a bit, because I've had a totally awesome weekend and the good things need to be written down too.
I got to ride a horse on Saturday, for the first time in years and years. I found a local farm that wants volunteers... so I'm going to try and be out there whenever possible. I'm ridiculously happy to just be near horses again. They're such intelligent and magnificent creatures. I'm still (re-)learning how to do things like get them to take their bit, how to catch them in the pasture, how to lead them and get them to work co-operatively with me... but I'm getting there. Riding is a definite plus, and I'm getting into learning all the horses' personalities... but honestly? I'd be content just to groom them all day and love them. They're darn affectionate, and curious as anything. They're also like 2000 lb puppies, when it comes down to it. One day, I'll have my own horse...
Yesterday/this morning was also Tina's housewarming, and so I went and met a bunch of awesome new people, and have generally had a busy day of seeing as many people as possible.
Tina was kind enough to inflict breakfast upon us at 8 am this morning, and after such, Kimi and I went and surprised Megan by showing up at her work. We chatted while Megan got ready for the day, and then Megan's parents showed up randomly too, so I said hi to them.
When Megan actually had to work, Kimi and I left to head back into the city. Kimi went home, and I urgently called Trevor to see what he was up to. We met up, went to the park, had ice cream... generally, the good stuff, along with a lot of bitching about life, the universe, and everything. We also decided that should he and Sarah W. ever procreate, they would have musical genius children... but since he and Sarah are already far too alike, that would be a Bad Idea.
Later, I met up with Kael, coz we haven't had proper face-time in about half a year. As always, it was a good visit, and I got the joy of backing out of an extremely narrow driveway on my way home.
Now it's about quarter to 2, so I'm going to do dishes and go to bed. Love to you all. <3
Sample: Theatre Review
There are some things that money just can't buy. Love, honest success, real adoration, and competency are but a few examples that come to mind.
Sadly, High Society, Shaw Festival's big-ticket (with several big names) production can’t claim to offer any of the above to theatre-goers, despite the small fortune sunk into the musical. There's the rub, and there's the irony - a production about the wonders of being rich can't buy its own success. (Despite the big names, it certainly isn’t going to win audiences any other way.)
If anything, the production is a reminder of everything a musical should not be or have: lazy actors, poor sound levels, off-pitch singing, dance numbers that are mediocre and unoriginal... the list of what goes wrong during the show is nearly as long as the dreadfully exhausting running time. Sampling a glass or two of delicious Niagara Region wine at intermission is a must - not because it’s renowned, but more so that you can make it through the second act without checking your watch every thirty seconds.
The beginning is deceptively promising: a spirited chorus of maids and butlers sing a peppy ditty about the joys of being “high society.” If you can ignore the one dancer that is noticeably behind everyone else, you may even enjoy the opening number. The tune is catchy, the costumes all match, and you’re lulled into thinking that this may be worth the money spent on tickets. But then the dizzying scene changes begin less than three minutes into the show, and you realize that the feeling you’re experiencing isn’t exhilaration - it’s seasickness.
The set pieces -- of which there are many -- whirl and twirl, often appearing for just one scene, never to be seen again. Don’t be fooled by the elaborate set changes - the only purpose they really serve is to distract from the principal actors skiving off their duties. Some set pieces have obviously been craftily designed, such as Tracy’s bureau that opens into a set of stairs. (It’s an omen: just like the story, the stairs go nowhere fast.) Other elements, like the cardboard frying pans that appear during a brief foray into the kitchen, are like supermodels: two-dimensional and somewhat aesthetically pleasing, but completely useless for any practical purpose.
What's worse than the flat set pieces are the actors and musical notes of the same calibre. The musical numbers get progressively worse as the show goes on, and everything after the opening becomes more and more of a disappointment as the actors wallow in a rut of mediocrity. They’re sort of in character, their singing isn’t completely out of tune, and there are glimmering moments when the characters almost connect to one another… but there’s very little emotion or enthusiasm in their words or actions. If director Kelly Robinson is trying to create a fluffy, saccharine, feel-good piece of theatre, he’s very far off the mark - most of the characters don’t appear to feel anything, and they certainly don’t inspire sentimentality in the audience. Camilla Scott (yes, that Camilla) struts and frets upon the stage like a dying fish trapped in a net. It's unclear as to why she was cast as the purportedly young female lead, Tracy Lord, and equally unclear if she had just drank too much at the last cast party, or if, even after all this time, she still hasn't learned her blocking or grasped her character. George (David Leyshon), Tracy’s working-class fiancée, is no better. There’s supposed to be some comedy in his humourlessness, but it’s nowhere to be found. The same rings true for the supposed affection between he and Tracey.
But, there is a bright spot in this murky mess - Tracy’s younger sister, Dinah. Melissa Peters is the only cast member who makes the show truly enjoyable, though only when she is onstage. Dinah is vivacious, sassy, and not afraid to tromp about in silly costumes; yet, she has more sense than any of the adults, and the audience loves her for it. Her duet with Dexter (Dan Chameroy) is certainly one of the better numbers: there is genuine affection between the two, and they’re both in key! However, in their defence, the chorus members also have some semblance of chemistry between them; it’s just hard to demonstrate when they have so many set pieces to move.
If the cast had all been as sharp as Dinah, the show would have been quirky and entertaining instead of dry and tedious. But Robinson fails both the actors and the audience by failing to adhere to a strong directorial vision from the beginning of the production onward.
High hopes dashed, Phillip Barry is certainly rolling in his grave.
Sadly, High Society, Shaw Festival's big-ticket (with several big names) production can’t claim to offer any of the above to theatre-goers, despite the small fortune sunk into the musical. There's the rub, and there's the irony - a production about the wonders of being rich can't buy its own success. (Despite the big names, it certainly isn’t going to win audiences any other way.)
If anything, the production is a reminder of everything a musical should not be or have: lazy actors, poor sound levels, off-pitch singing, dance numbers that are mediocre and unoriginal... the list of what goes wrong during the show is nearly as long as the dreadfully exhausting running time. Sampling a glass or two of delicious Niagara Region wine at intermission is a must - not because it’s renowned, but more so that you can make it through the second act without checking your watch every thirty seconds.
The beginning is deceptively promising: a spirited chorus of maids and butlers sing a peppy ditty about the joys of being “high society.” If you can ignore the one dancer that is noticeably behind everyone else, you may even enjoy the opening number. The tune is catchy, the costumes all match, and you’re lulled into thinking that this may be worth the money spent on tickets. But then the dizzying scene changes begin less than three minutes into the show, and you realize that the feeling you’re experiencing isn’t exhilaration - it’s seasickness.
The set pieces -- of which there are many -- whirl and twirl, often appearing for just one scene, never to be seen again. Don’t be fooled by the elaborate set changes - the only purpose they really serve is to distract from the principal actors skiving off their duties. Some set pieces have obviously been craftily designed, such as Tracy’s bureau that opens into a set of stairs. (It’s an omen: just like the story, the stairs go nowhere fast.) Other elements, like the cardboard frying pans that appear during a brief foray into the kitchen, are like supermodels: two-dimensional and somewhat aesthetically pleasing, but completely useless for any practical purpose.
What's worse than the flat set pieces are the actors and musical notes of the same calibre. The musical numbers get progressively worse as the show goes on, and everything after the opening becomes more and more of a disappointment as the actors wallow in a rut of mediocrity. They’re sort of in character, their singing isn’t completely out of tune, and there are glimmering moments when the characters almost connect to one another… but there’s very little emotion or enthusiasm in their words or actions. If director Kelly Robinson is trying to create a fluffy, saccharine, feel-good piece of theatre, he’s very far off the mark - most of the characters don’t appear to feel anything, and they certainly don’t inspire sentimentality in the audience. Camilla Scott (yes, that Camilla) struts and frets upon the stage like a dying fish trapped in a net. It's unclear as to why she was cast as the purportedly young female lead, Tracy Lord, and equally unclear if she had just drank too much at the last cast party, or if, even after all this time, she still hasn't learned her blocking or grasped her character. George (David Leyshon), Tracy’s working-class fiancée, is no better. There’s supposed to be some comedy in his humourlessness, but it’s nowhere to be found. The same rings true for the supposed affection between he and Tracey.
But, there is a bright spot in this murky mess - Tracy’s younger sister, Dinah. Melissa Peters is the only cast member who makes the show truly enjoyable, though only when she is onstage. Dinah is vivacious, sassy, and not afraid to tromp about in silly costumes; yet, she has more sense than any of the adults, and the audience loves her for it. Her duet with Dexter (Dan Chameroy) is certainly one of the better numbers: there is genuine affection between the two, and they’re both in key! However, in their defence, the chorus members also have some semblance of chemistry between them; it’s just hard to demonstrate when they have so many set pieces to move.
If the cast had all been as sharp as Dinah, the show would have been quirky and entertaining instead of dry and tedious. But Robinson fails both the actors and the audience by failing to adhere to a strong directorial vision from the beginning of the production onward.
High hopes dashed, Phillip Barry is certainly rolling in his grave.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)