(Actually, not that cheap, but when has the truth stopped me from making an obscure pop culture reference?)
Read "Day One, Part One" here.
Read "Day One, Part Two" here.
Read "Day Two" here.
10. "I'M A MAN"
When we last left our hero, he had crashed on the bed after a four hour improvised performance, followed by a two hour dinner he doesn't really remember. As our hero crawled underneath the sheets and tried to fall asleep, he realized that he had not one, not two, not even three, but four doses of caffeine that day. (Mountain Dew Red, a vanilla latté, a Diet Coke, and a piping-hot tall cup of green tea with milk.)
Sleep was going to be a bitch.
I turned on the TV, because that sometimes helps me sleep. It must've helped a little, because I remember passing out and waking up every hour for the next nine hours or so. But I didn't have any dreams, which is odd for me. Just periods of complete nothingness followed by the light of the TV flickering on me.
At one point, I woke up because something on the TV, some kind of compelling music, managed to work its way through my unconscious state and grab my attention. I turned over. On the TV was, to my addled mind, the strangest cartoon I'd ever seen. I missed the beginning, but it appeared to be about a bank robber on a train who shares a compartment with a tiny Droopy-esque man who's actually a giant monster. What made it strange was the style -- imagine Kricfalusian characters in a Samurai Jack-style world, complete with quiet atmospheric moments. The mise-en-scene of the thing was remarkably sophisticated, at least for a cartoon that was being broadcast at four in the morning. I half-wondered if I was dreaming. When the cartoon was over, I rolled back over and started to fall back to sleep. Then there was oddly familiar music from the TV, and I reluctantly looked up to see what it was.
The cartoon was playing again. And again, I missed the beginning.
When I finally got up in the morning, first thing I did was try and find the name of the cartoon on the internet. I suspect if you Google the plot points of any movie, you can find the title, because it didn't take long to locate Gruesomestein's Monsters: Dr. Heckyl and Mr. Jerk. Give it a look, and watch for the Fight Club homage.
11. SEE POST TITLE
I felt like shit for pretty much the rest of the day. The caffeine hangover was like a concrete block on my head, and I was beginning to translate my sense of failure about my performance from a feeling into words. This, naturally, leads to a bout of mini-depression.
(Anyone who knows me knows that I can get into a bit of a funk fairly easily. I usually come out of them within a day or so, but it also usually means I'm not getting out of bed for the duration. So in some ways, I was lucky I had a hotel room to myself.)
So I spent most of the day in bed, not even getting up to get food. I didn't feel like doing anything, but at the same time, I didn't feel like not doing anything. So I split the difference and watched The Break-Up on my laptop.
Wow, that really cheered me up. Although I have to give Vince Vaughn props for spearheading such an unlikely concept (I can't imagine this getting bought and produced as a spec), it doesn't really work and ends up leaving a bad taste in the mouth.
I considered putting in The Death of Mr. Lazarescu right after, but decided against it -- something with "death" in the title wasn't likely to be a big pick-me-upper. (Just as well I didn't -- see above.)
Mid-evening, I got dressed and went and got pierogies from the Public Market. (Good, but how could they not be? They're pierogies.) The other Forced Entertainment show, Exquisite Pain, was going to start, and so I got ready for that.
12. ON A PEDESTAL
I forget what time Exquisite Pain starts and so I head over to the theater, thinking I'm plenty early. Well, no, I'm only about fifteen minutes early -- there's already a line to get in. Since I'm with the band, as it were, I'd like to think they'd let me in for free, but I'm not taking any chances. I head for backstage and ask Sherri Sadler, our supercool artist liason person, the bearer of hot-green-tea-just-when-it's-needed, if Cath or Rob have arrived yet. They have, so she lets me into the theater. Yay, I'm in! Francis the Tech Guy is there, and offers me the seat at the top of the auditorium, next to the sound board. Well, kind of next to the sound board. It's actually about eight feet away, by itself, so I sit down and feel like both the guest of honor and the dunce in the corner.
The show's great. Cathy reads a series of variations and repetitions on artist Sophie Calle's greatest heartbreak, which alternates with Rob's reading of true stories of other people's moments of great sadness. These stories are accompanied by images on video screens behind them. It's surprising how funny it is, actually, despite how most of the stories are about loved ones dying. It's very different from the Forced Entertainment shows that I grew up with, but pretty representative of the stripped-down, just-the-basics kind of show they've been doing lately -- just two people, two desks, two scripts, two video screens, and a neon sign that says "Exquisite Pain". Some people probably wouldn't even call it theater, which is why I like it.
When the show's done, we all go out to dinner again with Norman, along with Sherri, Christine Evans, and Sean Arden. Christine's a playwright and currently studying Forced Entertainment's work (lucky!), and you can see her site here and her review of Quizoola! here. Sean is a media artist studying at the Emily Carr Institute, and you can see his work here.
By now, after the great show and sitting down for dinner, I'm in a much better mood. The conversation is flowing and the food is passed around from person to person, the way I like it. Sean's a cool guy, a film and TV buff as suits a media artist, and we talk about Veronica Mars and Jacques Tati. Sherri tells us about a interactive theater piece she went to that sounds pretty amazing and awfully creepy at the same time. (I've totally forgotten the name of the theater groups -- it was a team-up -- that put it together, else I'd link.)
Later, a guy comes to our table. He obviously knows Norman, and I think there's some introductions, but it's too loud, as always, to make anything out. Ever meet someone who was really, really successful? Successful people have this aura about them that you can spot a mile away. I don't know if it's the success that gives them confindence and charisma, or if their charisma and confidence that made them successful, or what, but whatever the Bruce Campbellian "it" is, this guy had it. Turns out his name is Sid Katz, and he's the managing director of the University of British Columbia's Chan Centre for the Performing Arts. In other words, a wig who's pretty big.
I don't talk to him much, but at some point I hear the topic turn to movies, and Sean and I talk to him about all things cinema. And this guy knows his stuff. Then we hear more about him, and it's pretty amazing. Dude's had quite a life; if I recall correctly, he started out as a scientist, moved onto journalism, and now is involved in the arts. All I can think is, daaaaamn -- alls I got is a blog. And a cat.
Where we saw it: | We deign to rate it: outta 100