My Dear Enemy

Opening this weekend in Vancouver at Tinseltown. You should go.

MY DEAR ENEMY

Starring Do-yeon Jeon, Jung-woo Ha
Directed by Yoon-ki Lee
On the surface, My Dear Enemy, a Korean indie, is an extended dialogue between two characters sorting through the wreckage of their shared past. What elevates it beyond most other relationship dramas is a fresh spin on a familiar premise: the road trip between two people with unfinished business.

Enemy’s unfinished business hinges on a quest for payback. Hee-su (Do-yeon Jeon), frustrated and tightly wound, tracks down her light-hearted, charming ex-boyfriend, Byeong-woon (Jung-woo Ha), to collect on an IOU for $3,500 that he wrote her three years prior. Desperate (why is never made clear), she demands he fork over the cash, resulting in a day-long treasure hunt as she drives him around to rustle up the money from the various women in his life.

The writers resist the temptation to indulge in road-trip staples like over-the-top pit stops and detours fraught with manufactured drama. Instead the couple encounter fully-realized supporting characters who serve to reveal more about the leads. Whether it’s a tense confrontation between Hee-su and a pampered girl with a sugar daddy, or a visit with the divorced single mom Byeong-woon once helped through hard times, each segment adds more pieces to character studies so vibrant and complex, they transcend the bounds of fiction to take on a near-tangibility. We feel like we know these people and we can’t help but care.

Making it easy to be drawn in are utterly fantastic performances by Jeon and Ha, a perfect odd couple who have an easy chemistry and enough skill to know that what’s left unsaid can speak volumes. The result is a film that’s beautifully restrained without sacrificing heart. —Andrea Warner

The Wedding Singer: The Musical

I reviewed Fighting Chance's The Wedding Singer for WE this week. The company is great, but they don't have much to work with in this film-to-stage adaptation.

Enthusiasm and camp almost make up for a lacklustre score and book in Fighting Chance Production’s The Wedding Singer: The Musical.

Credit: Supplied

‘Wedding Singer’ hits too many false notes

Posted By: Andrea Warner

05/05/2010 12:00 AM

Impressed or not by ‘80s-send-up comedy The Wedding Singer, no one walked away from the 1998 Adam Sandler-Drew Barrymore flick thinking, “You know, that movie would make an awesome musical!” No one, that is, except Matthew Sklar, Chad Beguelin, and Tim Herlihy, the misguided minds behind the too-faithful, too-literal stage adaptation that opened and closed on Broadway in 2006, after a six-month run.

The premise has promise. But unlike the sweetly inoffensive film, the musical doesn’t deliver, no matter how heavily it borrows from the source. The Wedding Singer: The Musical, like the movie, is a romantic comedy steeped in the stereotypes, fashion, and frivolity of the 1980s. And it, too, focuses on titular wedding singer Robbie Hart, a romantic who’s left a broken, seething mess after his girlfriend leaves him at the altar. At the banquet hall where his band performs, Robbie soon realizes Julia, a waitress, is a kindred spirit, albeit one with the misfortune of being engaged to Glen Guglia, a stockbroker with a secret penchant for coke and strippers. Of course, Robbie and Julia should be together.

In the movie, the lovebirds wind their way toward a sweet, Billy Idol-aided happy ending in a smooth 90 minutes. Unfortunately, the two-hours-plus musical odyssey unwisely expands supporting roles, fleshes out Robbie’s walk on the Wall Street side, and pushes the final curtain back at least 10 minutes too far.

Even when working with lesser material such as this, though (and battling mic problems that will hopefully be addressed in subsequent performances), the young, vibrant minds at Fighting Chance Productions — so good with last year’s Rent and Forbidden Broadway — infuse the cramped stage with genuine, joyful energy. The enthusiasm and talent of the company is undeniable, as evinced by the production’s male lead, the delightful Andrew Halliwell. Lexy Campbell has a more difficult job with Julia (written as one-dimensional and too sickly sweet), but her voice blends beautifully with Halliwell’s on the romance-denouncing “It’s Not that Kind of Thing.”

Two of the best songs in the show, “Grow Old with You” and “Somebody Kill Me,” appeared in the original film, and were co-written by Sandler himself. But even an avowed Sandler fan (yep, I’m one) doesn’t necessarily want an entire musical hinging on those compositions. Had the writers taken the charm of those two songs and created a book and lyrics equally as engaging, then Fighting Chance Productions would have really had something to sing about.

The Wedding Singer: The Musical runs to May 22 at Jericho Arts Centre (1675 Discovery), 8pm. Tickets $25-$30 from 604-224-8007 and FightingChanceProductions.ca

I'm really pleased with how my WE cover story worked out this week!

A Better ‘Fit’

Posted By: Andrea Warner

04/28/2010 12:00 AM

Some people seem to have exited the womb running marathons for pleasure. But a great many more of us have never had a natural inclination toward sport and fitness. To those who are emphatically convinced exercise sucks, every form of workout has its own built-in reasons for our rejection: soccer looks stupid, boxing is bloody, and mall-walking is just sad. When you’ve built up a lifetime’s worth of excuses to not do something, it’s hard to face the fact that, eventually, everyone must make peace with physical fitness. Luckily, no one ever said it has to be boring.

For those of us requiring something a little more engaging than grunting our way through a spin class, Vancouver offers plenty of workouts to trick your body and mind into thinking exercise can be fun, simultaneously getting the heart pumping and the party started.

TASSELS OPTIONAL

After a rehearsal with burlesque group Screaming Chicken Theatrical Society left her huffing and puffing but still smiling, Melody Mangler had an “A-ha!” moment, and Burlesque Aerobics was born.

A form of entertainment that dates back to the 14th century, the current incarnation of burlesque more closely resembles early-20th-century music and comedy revues in which striptease was the highlight. Screaming Chicken Theatrical Society, of which Mangler is a founder and the current artistic director, has been at the forefront of Vancouver’s burlesque revival.

Going well beyond the basic art of bump ’n’ grind, Burlesque Aerobics focuses on strength training, cardio, and stretching, using the sexy and saucy moves perfected in classic stripteases. “It’s quite dance oriented, so everyone comes out learning certain choreography sequences, but we also embrace silliness — [like making] cat noises,” Mangler says.

The class is typically attended by women, though Mangler says exceptions have been made for men in the past. Add to that its focus on creating a body-positive environment and incorporating fun props (boas!), and Mangler promises an hour of empowerment, fun, and fitness. Burlesque Aerobics takes place Mondays from 7-8pm at Screaming Chicken Theatrical Society’s East Vancouver rehearsal studio, called the Chicken Coop. Screaming Chicken also offers other burlesque-inspired classes, courses, and workshops, with subjects ranging from costuming to dance. More info: ScreamingChicken.net

JUST JOUST

It’s really not a surprise that Devon Boorman was a Renaissance Faire guy in high school. After all, he did go on to co-found Academie Duello, birthplace of Vancouver’s modern swordplay and home to the city’s own Medieval museum. But think twice before teasing him about a codpiece or a cup of mead — he could probably cut a bitch into 20 pieces with just four moves.

Not that he would, of course. After all, in the Academie’s six years, there has never been a serious injury, even though students are training with actual slice-and-dice-capable swords. The key is the Academie’s focus on safety and fun — which, incidentally, lends itself to some pretty firm muscles and kick-ass cardio. There are numerous classes for fledgling swordsmen (and women), including martial arts, stage combat, Olympics-style fencing, umbrella defense, and an innovative program called SwordFit, which combines technical sword (sparring, swinging, and handling) and circuit training.

“Swordplay is a full-body workout,” Boorman promises. “It’s both inherently fun and inherently physical. Just connecting with the history and the fantastical element of it is fun, and when you connect that to the process of learning and mastering the use of a sword, you can keep yourself mentally engaged for years. I know I have.” The next beginners’ sessions happen May 3, 4, and 8. For information, classes, and schedules, visit AcademieDuello.com.

CLOWNIN’ AROUND

Ever since Cirque du Soleil contorted its way into the mainstream and blew the lid off previous notions of Big Top entertainment, the word “circus” has acquired infinitely cooler connotations. Images of pratfalling clowns and bearded fat ladies have given way to lean, graceful, bendy bodies performing seemingly impossible feats that are both fantastical and inspirational.

Travis Johnson, co-founder of the Vancouver Circus School, has spent his entire life melding athleticism, entertainment, and art, and sees circus training as the perfect alternative to a gym. “My dad says, ‘The fun is in the fitness and the fitness is in the fun,’” Travis says. “Which is so true for all of our classes. They’re a fun way to get a workout... and learn some really cool tricks.”

Travis and his parents are championship trampolinists and coaches, heavily involved in acrobatics and circus arts. In fact, his father, Aaron, who’s also his business partner, coached Cirque’s own acrobats. That experience was what led the men to open their first location in North Vancouver in 2004. This summer, they’re set to open a second location in New Westminster in order to keep up with demand, which sees classes fill up within three hours of opening registration.

Travis guarantees a workout unlike any other, but the actual classes sound like the key to unlocking your inner child: trampoline, acrobatics, aerial silks, swinging trapeze, juggling, unicycle, tight-wire, and aerial hoop classes. The New West location promises circus boot camp and circus core conditioning (red clown noses optional). For classes, schedule, and information, visit VancouverCircusSchool.ca.

GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN

The Dance Dance Party Party phenomenon has been making its way west since crowded rooms full of women rocking leg warmers and off-the-shoulder sweaters got together in New York City in 2006, based on the belief that ladies-only dance parties were the workouts of the future.

Sarah Bynoe, a local actress and event organizer, is Vancouver’s DDPP “Den Mother,” a term that would mean leader in any other outfit, but is indicative of the deliberate casualness of the DDPP ethos. “The set-up is simple,” Bynoe says. “An hour and a half of booty-busting tunes, a dance studio or other room with the lights turned low, and women willing to let go.”

Bynoe became a fan of DDPP founders Glennis McMurray and Marcy Girt after discovering their online comedy videos. She contacted the duo, and DDPP Vancouver was born. There are no real rules to the dance party, which might be one of the reasons it’s so readily appealing to those who are apprehensive about starting a more formalized workout.

“It suits all fitness levels, as you are your own teacher,” Bynoe says. “Some ladies come and just step-touch or do other simple low-energy dance moves; other ladies are busting out breakdance moves. Because one of the main rules is ‘no judgment,’ especially of yourself, it’s an ideal place for someone to come who’s just starting out exercising. It’s the best cardio session I’ve had in a long time, and I work out at a gym fairly regularly.” For classes, schedule, and information, visit DDPPVancouver.wordpress.com.

BARE IT ALL

Exercise isn’t boring if you’re naked — that’s just a fact. Fortunately, there’s a long-established home for those looking to experience the soothing sensation of chlorinated liquid on buck-naked skin whilst enjoying a riveting game of water polo.

Since 1998, Templeton Pool has been home to NIFTY (Naked Iconoclasts Fighting the Yoke), a monthly, family-friendly swim night, which offers lane swimming (best for building up cardio endurance and muscle tone) and water games (similar health benefits, but disguised as fun). Kimberley DePaco joined in 2004, and though she had always been comfortable with the concept of nudity, she admits she had plenty of reservations attending her first in-the-flesh swim. “The newness of being around others who were nude put my fear of the unknown in high gear,” she says. “I mean, how do I act? What do you talk about? Where the heck do you put your eyes? All these were going around my brain.”

DePaco empathizes with those afraid of taking that initial leap. “It’s a hard thing, going through your entire life learning how to dress yourself to ‘complement’ your body,” she says. “Going from that to, ‘Here’s my body — just me!’ can be a great mind-fuck. The key thing to know is that the people who go to these swims are not judging your body, they’re interacting with the person. The swims are full of real people, of all sizes and ages and nationalities. They’re just a lot happier, ’cause they don’t have to stuff themselves into a constricting swimsuit.” For a list of NIFTY naked swims and other events and information, visit NIFTYNude.org.

The Pack a.d. feature

My more in-depth feature on The Pack A.D. is in this month's Exclaim!

The Challenges of Pack A.D. By Andrea Warner "This is the first album we've recorded that we're kind of happy with, which is either a good thing, or could be the worst sign ever. We don't know yet." Maya Miller, drummer for the East Vancouver-based garage rock duo the Pack A.D., laughs a little, but she's not entirely joking. We Kill Computers is Miller's and singer-guitarist Becky Black's third record in four years, and the pair have made a name for themselves as badass, blues-loving, rock hellions. Critics, bloggers, and fans wax poetic about the pair's unique ability to harken back to a time decidedly cooler and yank it by the chest hairs into the future. And, while it's true that in the past the Pack A.D.'s blues-drenched sound evoked a stylized imagery — raw and raucous, new yet familiar — the duo are taking deliberate steps away from what's defined them. Over the phone in a car in the middle of a mall parking lot in London, ON, Miller is candid about the band's mini-evolution. The whole reason we were even playing in this blues vein, to be honest, is because it came easier," Miller admits. "And over the last few years, we've just started moving away from that naturally." We Kill Computers packs plenty of evidence to support the duo's musical exploration, from the incendiary tribal beats of "B.C. Is On Fire" to the verging-on-indie-pop "Crazy," which has become the album's first radio single. ("It actually has a chorus," Miller points out. "None of our other songs do.") Computers also treads familiar territory, with classic blues and rock numbers like openers "Deer" and "Everyone Looks Like Everyone," but even these bear signs of blurring the lines between soundscapes. Computers itself is a little bit strange to me, because it touches on a few different genres and sounds so separate from each other," Miller says. "If you put 'BC Is On Fire' next to 'Big Anvil' or 'Cobra Matte' it's a little bit strange, like it's kind of a different band, but I like it." Computers also indicates a bit of a shift in the way the Pack A.D. do business. After essentially shrugging themselves into existence — their reactions to being asked to play their first show and record their first album, Tintype, two months later: "Sure, why not?" — Miller acknowledges it has been a massive learning curve. We spent maybe $200 on Tintype," Miller laughs. "And it's totally rough and in our opinion, kind of awful, but apparently has an awful sort-of charm to it, so that's fine. We recorded it and we didn't know what we were doing and that's why it's 17 songs long. We were like, well, we don't know if we'll ever record another album, so let's just put every song on it even if we don't like it." Now, just four years later, they've recently hired a manager, Aaron Schubert, who helped resurrect Vancouver's Biltmore Cabaret, whom they initiated trial-by-fire style during one of their five South by Southwest shows in March. "One of the shows was a terrible technical disaster and nothing was working, and we did manage to play some songs, but we were also very drunk," Miller recalls, almost giddily. "For the first time ever after a show we got wrist-slapped to lay off the booze, which we found secretly kind of awesome, because we don't actually get drunk that often. And we have a reputation of being drinkers, but we're not really drinkers, so the one time we get wasted and he has to see it, and we're the bad kids now. It was kind of gratifying to have someone play dad." Even with a dad figure to keep them in line, the pair's reputation as "bad kids" has been years in the making. Miller admits that when she and Black scrap, it's mostly the silent treatment for a couple hours until one of them cracks the other up, usually by reading something stupid on a signpost. When prompted to reveal their most badass behaviour, Miller stumbles momentarily, first revealing they played Magic the Gathering in the bar before a show recently, then recalling when Black drunkenly punched a fan in the face during a gig, before confessing that she herself likes to drink wine and take sleeping pills when flying. But, even with all that under their belts, it might just be that the most badass things about them are their reproductive systems. Because they like to play loud music, rock out, and sometimes start shit in mosh pits, plenty of concert-goers and reviewers have seemed stupidly stunned that Miller and Black are — gasp— girls. They write that we play like we have 'balls' like it's some sort of credit," Miller sighs audibly. "At first we weren't really aware of [the sexism], but we've noticed it a lot more lately. Or people coming up to us after shows and saying, 'Wow, you really rock out for girls!' And, what does that have to do with it? Our approach is that we're human beings playing music and we play it the way we like to play. Maybe it seems strange to play so loud. I guess women are supposed to just be sluts. I say sluts, because women are often marketed in a Shakira fashion. And I think it's really unfortunate, because it just makes the music irrelevant, and it's a time-old tradition of how women are supposed to sell themselves based on how they look instead of what they're doing, and I think it's really shitty and I think it comes up a lot. I wish it didn't, and it's nice when it doesn't. Ughh, you know neither of us is on stage thinking, 'I am a woman playing music.' If you think about it, it's like, you're not walking to a bus stop thinking I am a woman walking to a bus stop, or I am a woman going to dinner. Men don't think about it like that. And it's frustrating, because we're not just a duo, we're a lady duo. It's weird. And hopefully it will start going away at some point."

The Pack a.d.

My news story on The Pack a.d. appears online at Exclaim.ca

The Pack A.D. Lose Their Blues for We Kill Computers 4/27/2010 By Andrea Warner Vancouver garage-rock duo the Pack A.D.’s third full-length album, We Kill Computers, officially hits stores today (April 27) via Mint Records, and longtime fans need to steel themselves for something different than the blues-rock foundation on which drummer Maya Miller and guitarist/singer Becky Black built their sound. "The whole reason we were even playing in this blues vein, to be honest, is because it came easier," Miller explained in a recent Exclaim! interview. "And over the last few years, we've just started moving away from that naturally... For this album, we've definitely gone in a more rock, indie, almost verging on pop. And we played a lot of shows with blues bands and punk-blues bands, and it all sort of sounded the same, and even though we weren't necessarily sure what we wanted to sound like, it just kind of evolved into this album. Which, is the first album we've recorded that we're kind of happy with, which is either a good thing, or could be the worst sign ever. We don't know yet." It's easy to visualize Miller's casual shrug as she anticipates the possible fallout of the band's new direction. But the laid-back attitude is perfectly in step with the Pack A.D.'s origins, from their first show playing a friend's backyard barbeque to making their first record for $200 in just a couple weeks. Now, four years later, their sound may have evolved, but much of their existence is still just taking advantage of what lands in their laps, such as the record's matter-of-fact title, inspired by Miller and Black's common hatred: social networking. "We Kill Computers is kind of a fuck-you [to the digital age]," Miller laughs. "Because we're together all the time, which is a little psychotic, we have a couple moods we operate in. One is we have a few conversations we love rehashing, right down to saying the exact same things again and again, and we never get bored of it. And one of our favourite rehashings is about social networking online and how we hate it. It just feels like eventually years from now we'll live a place where no one knows how to interact with each other in person. “We got chastised the other day because don't have a Twitter account, and someone was like, 'Well don't you wanna connect with your fans?' And we're like, 'Yeah, that's why we have MySpace and we have Facebook.' And we personally answer every single thing, but it's just like, can we have one thing we don't do? Like, I would get Twitter Tourette’s and post things like, 'Becky took a shit today' and does anyone really need that?" The Pack A.D. kick off a lengthy European tour today, returning for a pile of Canadian dates in late May with the Sadies. You can see all the band’s dates here.

Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs concert review

My review of Holly Golightly & the Brokeoffs, with photo by Carlos Hernandez Fisher, for Exclaim!

Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs The Media Club, Vancouver BC April 21 By Andrea Warner There's something genuinely magical about the rockabilly pairing of the baby-voiced Brit Holly Golightly and the southern drawl of one-man-band, Lawyer Dave. As soon as the duo, known as Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs, hit the Vancouver's Media Club stage, their charming banter was a ceaseless volley of hilarious observations and stories, one-off complaints, and jokes that stumbled back and forth on the line of good taste. It was a perfect complement to their set: 16 songs, most oil-well deep with a rich narrative structure, many of which make you smile as often as they make you want to dance. Lawyer Dave braced the crowd in advance of the second song, half-joking, "We love guns," before launching into the catchy-but-country-crazy domestic violence ditty, "My 45," a call-and-answer riff on each of them threatening to kill the other. Staying true to that theme, they moved on to "You Can't Buy a Gun When You're Crying" before Lawyer Dave asked, "Y'all got goth kids here? We're trying to break into the goth wedding cruise market." A brief story about the true origins of their goth friends' wedding on a cruise preceded "Devil Do," a tongue-in-cheek lament about how nobody's love can match Satan's devotion. Throughout the evening, Holly played guitar and sang, her trademark voice continuing to channel a 1930s recording, never more effective than on the lovely encore, "Black Night," or when revealing she has a baby goat at home. The audience stopped laughing and dancing long enough to actually respond with a collective, "Awww." And she gamely served as straight-man to Lawyer Dave throughout, creating a perfect living definition of partnership before the crowd's eyes. Incidentally, Lawyer Dave might possess Guinness World Records multitasking skills, rigging up a partial drum kit, complete with plastic milk crate, to be played entirely by his feet while he plays guitar, sings and cracks wise. About halfway through the show, as he struggled for a few minutes with his guitar, he casually offered, "It's about this point in the set people realize we're not DJs... no such thing as smooth transitions between songs, not when this guitar's kinda an asshole."

The Eclipse

The fantastic Irish flick, The Eclipse, probably won't hang around long in theatres. See it while you can. My review is in this week's WE.

THE ECLIPSE

Starring Ciarán Hinds, Iben Hjejle, Aidan Quinn
Directed by Conor McPherson
Of late, international indie films have ignored traditional movie classifications (i.e. action, romance, fantasy), opting instead for genre cross-pollination. Nuanced fare like Sweden’s Let the Right One In (coming-of-age vampire horror) and Mexico’s Silent Light (art-house drama with a dash of fantasy) were part of the first wave. The Eclipse, an Irish offering, is a remarkable addition to the emerging trend.

Michael (character actor Ciarán Hinds filling every inch of his new leading-man status) is a woodshop teacher struggling to raise his two young children following his wife’s death from cancer. His mundane life is turned upside down by recurrent ghostly apparitions of his father-in-law who, curiously, is very much alive and tucked away in a local rest home.

Tormented, Michael decides to escape and live out his frustrated author dreams by volunteering for his town’s writers festival. He meets Lena (Iben Hjejle), a horror author who writes about ghosts, and the two fumble towards a tentative relationship, much to the chagrin of Nicholas (Aidan Quinn), a married, arrogant, best-selling author who fell in love with Lena following a one-night stand.

Everyone in The Eclipse is coping with some form of loss, fear, or grief, and the film’s subtle genius is the ways in which those emotions manifest themselves: a terrifying nightmare; a rambling phone message; old, sad, pink eyes brimming with tears. The film flits nicely between character study and thriller, with enough dashes of horror to elicit a steady tension. The film’s emotional, tear-jerking climax — and resulting catharsis — prove reality is sometimes what haunts us most. —Andrea Warner

Death at a Funeral

My review of Death at a Funeral appears online at westender.com

DEATH AT A FUNERAL

Starring Chris Rock, Martin Lawrence
Directed by Neil Labute
It’s been three years since the British comedy Death at a Funeral brought family dysfunction and farce across the pond. Apparently, the movie’s short run whet the appetites of American movie honchos, who pushed it to the top of their “let’s remake it so we don’t have to come up with new shit” pile.

Hence, 2010’s Death at a Funeral, which stays somewhat faithful to its source material (same plot, script, and little person provocateur in the form of actor Peter Dinklage), but forsakes the original’s dry humour in favour of dialing up the sass. The action now focuses on a middle-class African-American family in L.A. reunited by the death of the family patriarch. The deceased’s sons, Aaron (Chris Rock) and Ryan (Martin Lawrence), are trying to host the funeral amidst a severe case of sibling rivalry. Ryan’s been living the high life as a best-selling author in New York, while Aaron’s been living at home with his parents and wife, working as a tax accountant and writing a book he won’t show anyone.

But the family dysfunction doesn’t end there. Cousin Elaine (Zoe Saldana) accidentally gives her nervous boyfriend, Oscar (James Marsden), acid instead of Valium. Crotchety Uncle Russell (Danny Glover) verbally abuses everyone, particularly stray family friends like the paranoid Norman (Tracey Morgan) and Derek (Luke Wilson), who once dated Elaine and wants her back. Finally, interloper Frank (Dinklage, who returns to the role he played in the original 2007 film) arrives and threatens to reveal a huge secret about the dead man unless his sons cough up $30,000.

Morgan does his somewhat enjoyable manic-rant thing, Lawrence sleazes and smarms appropriately, but Wilson, looking bloated and bored, is woefully miscast. Marsden has the most fun, and gets the most laughs, but the one surprise here is Rock, who delivers a performance that hints at a previously unexplored vulnerable side.

Director Neil LaBute, famed for writing and directing mostly caustic character studies (The Shape of Things, Your Friends and Neighbours), seems an odd choice to be at the helm, and sadly he doesn’t do much to distinguish this Funeral from its predecessor. Instead, he settles for (and we’re stuck with) yet another pointless-but-not-unpleasant remake. — Andrea Warner

Bat Boy: the Musical

My review of the camptastic Bat Boy: the Musical is in WE this week.

Scott Perrie as the titular freak in Bat Boy: The Musical.

STAGE: Tabloid-inspired Bat Boy good, trashy fun

Posted By: Andrea Warner

04/14/2010 12:00 AM

The lonely freak-show is a beloved pop-culture and literary staple. Be it Frankenstein, Quasimodo, or Edward Scissorhands, these stories often double as social commentary, offering plenty to mock in the masses’ obsession with maintaining status quo. But none goes for society’s jugular with quite so much gusto as the ultimate outsider satire, Bat Boy: The Musical.

Funny and heartfelt, Bat Boy boasts all the campy, kooky, crazy zeal one might expect from an Off-Broadway show torn from the actual front-page headline of a 1992 Weekly World News story about a half-bat, half-human cave dweller. Writers Keythe Farley and Brian Flemming expand on the story (with music and lyrics by Laurence O’Keefe) placing the action inside a small-minded redneck town.

After the Bat Boy (Scott Perrie) bites a young girl who stumbles into his cave, the town rustles him off to the home of the local vet, Dr. Parker (Scott Bellis). There, Mrs. Parker (Katey Wright) and their teenage daughter, Shelley (Bree Greig), bond with the young man, rename him Edgar, and transform him from feral wildling to summa cum laude faster than you can say Eliza Doolittle.

Dr. Parker, though, is soon dangling by a shred of sanity as he watches Edgar grow closer to his wife and daughter. He decides to take advantage of the town’s Bat Boy panic and frame Edgar for a variety of nefarious deeds, including murder. The action culminates with the arrival of a travelling tent-revival minister, which results in a crazy showdown after Edgar and Shelley declare their mutual love, and Dr. and Mrs. Parker face off over some long-buried secrets that have devastating consequences.

Not every musical number is fantastic (due in part to the Norman Rothstein Theatre’s ongoing battle with sound and microphone glitches), but the cast goes out of its way to make each of them sparkle. The supporting actors are tasked with numerous characters, sometimes even changing costume mid-song (!). Perrie, Wright, and Grieg shine, and every combination of their voices blends beautifully, particularly during Perrie and Wright’s sweet sort-of duet, “A Home for You.” Bellis, though utterly believable as a mad man, has a looser grip on his vocal duties, and falls decidedly flat much of the time. Bat Boy’s best number, “Children, Children”, comes in the second act, as Edgar and Shelley, on the verge of making love, encounter the mythic half-horse, half-human Pan, who oversees a rollicking inter-species orgy. It’s audacious, hilarious, and hints at just how bizarre Bat Boy could have been if the writers had truly succumbed to the story’s inherent WTF? spirit.

This is Patrick Street Productions’ third offering in as many years, and Bat Boy thankfully feels more the equal of the company’s memorable debut, Into the Woods, than last year’s uneven attempt at The Full Monty. From the cast to the costumes, Bat Boy is quirky, remarkable fun that stretches well beyond its initial kitsch factor, and marks a triumphant return to form for PSP.

Bat Boy: The Musical runs to Apr. 18 at Norman Rothstein Theatre (950 W. 41st), 8pm. Tickets $25-$44 from TicketsTonight.ca.

Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs

My interview with Holly Golightly appears in this week's WE.

Holly Golightly and Lawyer Dave.

Holly Golightly happy to live in the past

Posted By: Andrea Warner

04/14/2010 12:00 AM

Given her stage name, it’s no surprise that Holly Golightly’s musical tastes tend toward the retro. After joining all-girl garage band Thee Headcotees (a sort of offshoot to garage-rock maven Billy Childish’s Thee Headcoats) in the early ’90s, the U.K.-based singer-songwriter released her first solo album in 1995, leading off a steady stream of country- and blues-tinged releases through to 2005.

Then, in 2007, she teamed with Texas musician Lawyer Dave to form Holly Golightly and the Brokeoffs, a lo-fi rockabilly duo that sounds more old-time Nashville than Swinging London. Their third album, this year’s Medicine County, continues along the road paved by their previous efforts, still focused on a time when voices — not Auto-Tune — made real music. From bluegrass and gospel to rockabilly and soul, Golightly and Dave share the microphone on the majority of their songs, infusing the album with a splendidly out-of-time charm and intimacy.

Proving she’s not entirely focused on living an analog lifestyle, Golightly spoke with WE via Skype, checking in from an Atlanta hotel room on her current tour.

There’s a stronger country tinge in the Brokeoffs than in your solo material. Did you have a desire to explore that more thoroughly?
Golightly: No. Everything I’ve ever done, there’s always been country songs. Well, they might not have ended up on the album as a country song, due to the treatment as a production, but they started out as a 12-bar country song or a blues song, and were then just elaborated on during the recording process. Whereas with the two of us, we have to be more sparse, and it’s also our common reference point.

What are some of the uncommon reference points?
Dave likes the rock, and I don’t. I lean far more to old R&B;and soul music. I would certainly not sit home and listen to metal...and Dave would. (Laughs)

The two albums before Medicine County took just four and five days to record, respectively. Did you go for broke and do six days this time?
Well, we didn’t record it all in one go this time. We borrowed a church and recorded some there, and brought it back to our studio at home. It took longer just by virtue of the fact that there were a lot of logistical things we had to factor in. (Laughs) It took about two weeks, so it’s an opus, you might say.

You’ve toured North America a number of times. What are some of the main differences here versus the U.K.?
Well, in the U.K., it’s certainly not the music-maker it once was, unless it’s a certain kind of music. They like... well, they like whatever they like. I don’t even know what it is, actually. In mainland Europe, the main difference is they have a very healthy network of clubs and a long-standing record of hospitality — they make you feel you’re welcome wherever you go. In North America, there’s that network, and we go back to certain clubs and are friends with the promoters. But I think geographically, because everything’s so far apart, bands go round and round all year. Because it’s so vast, people get a bit spoiled for choice. You know that if you don’t get to see a band one time, they’re going to be around again, so it affects numbers.

You’ve been in the music business almost 20 years. Have you always felt supported by the industry, regardless of gender politics?
I’ve never felt that I’ve had any advantage or disadvantage because of my gender. I think I probably get away with being more pissy sometimes with promoters — like, you know, if a band did that, they would probably get in a fist fight. I don’t really feel like I’m part of any machine or industry where that really should figure. Do you know what I mean? Like, I know that it does — of course it does — because the people who are pulling the strings are fat bankers in skyscrapers, and they’re not women, for the most part, and I’m well aware of that. I just plow on because I don’t give a shit what people think of me, which would be the case whether I was male or female. I don’t care whether they like me or not... You know, anyone who plays music is up their own arse. (Laughs)

Holly Golightly & the Brokeoffs play Wednesday, Apr. 21, at the Media Club (695 Cambie), 8pm. Tickets $20 from Ticketmaster, Zulu, Red Cat, and Highlife.

Manchester Orchestra

My interview with Manchester Orchestra appears in the Charleston City Paper.

Manchester Orchestra talks about Zac Efron

Chris Freman: Stumbling into Adulthood

Chris Freeman, the keyboardist for Atlanta indie-rockers Manchester Orchestra, doesn't answer the phone on the first ring for his interview with the City Paper, but he groggily picks up on the second, only to politely excuse himself for a few moments. There's fumbling in the background, and a small banging sound. Only later in the conversation does he confess the truth.

"I stayed up really late playing basketball on the PlayStation, and when you called, I had to roll out of my bunk on the bus and find something to cover up my bottom half," Freeman says.

It's 2 p.m. in the middle of the week. This is the life of a young, but seasoned, rock star.

Freeman is only in his early 20s, as are most of his bandmates, including singer-songwriter Andy Hull, bass player Jonathan Corley, and guitarist Robert Mcdowell. Most of them met just barely out of puberty, playing together in different musical incarnations before forming Manchester Orchestra in 2005.

Together, the group has released two full-length albums, 2006's I'm Like a Virgin Losing a Child and Mean Everything to Nothing in 2009, through their own label, Favourite Gentlemen. They've also churned out numerous EPs, which have proven popular as epic, teasing tastes for their rabid fan base, who have racked up more than 12 million plays on the band's MySpace page.

Freeman still sounds appropriately awed by the band's success, but he balances his words like any young Southern man who spends a lot of time in a tricked-out tour bus and has a Billboard-charting album: One foot firmly planted in humble maturity, the other kicking up a cloud of lingering teenage rebellion.

"We actually did well at music, which is good, because I failed a lot of classes in high school," Freeman laughs. "I didn't really care, because I just wanted to play music. We're happy it worked out. Every time something good happens to the band, I send it to my mom immediately, and I'm like, 'Look mom, it's okay I didn't go to college. It's fine. I promise.'"

When asked if he and the other members knew they had something special with their first album, he grows thoughtful.

"No, I don't think we ever really had a feeling of being special," he says. "It's just what we do. It just happened. It was very natural. Of course, we liked it. It's why we recorded it."

He adds, "It's just crazy. I think we're all living in this notion that one day everyone's going to figure out that we're all just faking and we're not actually very good."

Freeman may laugh when he says this, but there's some awareness to what he's saying. After all, bridging the gap from being a teenage band to surviving your 20s takes a lot of work.

After five years together, Manchester Orchestra is just starting to feel some of the growing pains of getting older. Len Clark came on board, replacing longtime drummer Jeremiah Edmond, who left the group a few months ago to spend more time with his family. Most of the band members have side projects that they work on, including Hull's Right Away, Great Captain!, and Freeman's Alaska Him Nicely. But if any band can survive growing up, Manchester Orchestra might be it. The group is ridiculously tight knit. Freeman admits that they all live within a few miles of each other in Atlanta, and even when they come home from touring, they hang out, either at home or in their studio.

"We're like a bunch of idiot little kids hanging out who drive cars, and we can smoke cigarettes now legally," Freeman says. "We just sit around and play video games, and make stupid funny voices, and watch movies in HD. We love 17 Again with Zac Efron. We've seen it, like, 20 times."

A film about a 40-year-old clinging, wrongly, to his youth? In a silly way, it makes perfect sense for a rock band teetering toward growing up, but who are never far removed from the memory of being teenagers together. For the band's next big leap, Freeman sees a long future in store for Manchester Orchestra and anticipates they'll be recording their third full-length, possibly a live record, in June.

"We're just kind of stumbling into [adulthood], I think," Freeman says. "We keep trying to grow together. We've played with the same people for so long. We just kind of get really good playing together, and we want to do everything we possibly can to keep going."

Captain Abu Raed

My review appears in WE this week.

Nadeem Sawalha plays a widower who learns to live again, thanks to a series of tall tales, in the Jordanian film Captain Abu Raed.

Credit: supplied

CAPTAIN ABU RAED
Starring Nadim Sawalha, Rana Sultan
Directed by Amin Matalqa
Captain Abu Raed, Jordan’s first feature film in over 50 years, hints at a veritable unearthed treasure trove of movie-making talent and untold stories.

Raed (the magnificently expressive Nadim Sawalha) is an elderly janitor at the airport, only half-living out the remainder of his life in a shabby walk-up apartment. He comforts himself by talking to his dead wife (still indulging in their everyday rituals, like tea for two, though she’s been gone five years) and escaping into books for the global adventures he never experienced firsthand.

When Raed finds a captain’s hat in the trash at work, he wears it home, attracting the attention of a group of neighbourhood children who beg to hear about his travels as a pilot. Hoping to inspire them, and feeling engaged for the first time in years, Raed spins tall tales for a captivated audience, save for one reluctant hold-out, Murad (Hussein Al-Sous). A boy abused by his father at home, Murad is determined to unmask Raed as a lowly janitor. Raed also develops a friendship with Nour (Rana Sultan), a pilot being pressured to get married and settle down as she approaches her thirties.

Writer-director Amin Matalqa weaves the intertwining narratives capably. Captain is a film so full of heart, however, that it can’t help but spill over periodically into the saccharine and sentimental. (Particularly pervasive is the overly emotive, crescendo-filled score.)

Despite an occasional indulgence in the overwrought, Captain is beautifully and vividly full of life, with nuanced performances that prove haunting — never more so than in its final 30 minutes, when things take a dark, tense turn as Raed faces his own limitations and risks a violent confrontation. This cements an ending that’s both a foregone conclusion and a blow to the heart. ★★★—Andrea Warner

One-Week Job Project

My interview with blogger-turned-author Sean Aiken is in this week's WE.

Blogger Sean Aiken, seen here at the controls of an Air Force helicopter, tried out 52 jobs in 52 weeks, and leveraged his online chronicle into his first book, The One-Week Job Project.

Credit: supplied

Blogger becomes a Jack of all trades

Posted By: Andrea Warner

03/24/2010 12:00 AM

Like a lot of recent college graduates, Sean Aiken was completely clueless about how to translate 20 years of schooling into a meaningful career. The drought of regimented daily rituals — classes, homework, deadlines, repeat — had an almost paralyzing effect on the then 25-year-old Capilano College Business Administration major. Living in his parents’ basement, he faced the question every post-grad dreads: What are you going to do with your life?

Five years later, it seems, “Write a book!” was the long-awaited answer to that query. Aiken is the author of The One-Week Job Project, a book based on his 2006-2007 blog of the same name, detailing his year-long adventure trying out 52 different jobs over 52 weeks. The often-humorous collection details Aiken’s career smorgasbord (exterminator, tattoo artist, cowboy), falling in love on the road, and a few offers he flat-out refused (gay porn). In an interview with WE, Aiken talks about finding a career and the future of the One-Week Job Project.

WE: You graduated with a degree in business administration, but you ended up with a book deal. Had you always been interested in writing?
Aiken: Growing up, I wasn’t too interested in formal writing, but I always enjoyed putting my thoughts on paper. Most often it would transpire into short poems or rants about life.

How did you arrive at the idea for a series of one-week jobs?
When I was looking for a job, I saw all of these important-sounding job titles, but I had no idea what the job would actually be like. I was scared at the thought of committing to one, not liking it, and then feeling trapped in the position. I think a mistake that many people make when deciding on a career is to focus on the title and ignore the characteristics of the particular career and its associated lifestyle.

The fiscal feasibility of something like the One-Week Job Project seems daunting, particularly since you donated your work earnings to charity. Did you have savings to help you embark on a year of constant travel?
I had a few hundred dollars in savings to get me started, but I had no clue how I was going to keep it up for a year. For the first five weeks I stayed in the Vancouver area, so I was able to live at home [in my parents’ basement]. Once the project started, I wrote a post on my website, OneWeekJob.com, to try and find a sponsor to help with travel expenses. Luckily, NiceJob.ca contacted me in Week 5 and agreed to give me $1,000 a month. If that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have been able to continue. During the entire year, I didn’t have to pay for accommodations once. I stayed with my employers, with people who contacted me through the website, or used [home-stay website] CouchSurfing.org. I also kept costs down by taking the bus, hitchhiking, or using Craigslist ride-share whenever possible.

How did the project impact you?
I learned that I don’t necessarily need to have my “dream job” in order to be happy at work. There are many other factors that contribute to job satisfaction. When I asked my coworkers what they liked most about their job, the common answer I heard was the people they worked with. I also recognized that those who were most passionate about their jobs were the ones who had a vision of how they were contributing to something greater than themselves. For example, I worked on an organic dairy farm with a guy named George. The job demands long hours, very hard work, and early mornings. After a couple of days I thought, “How can anyone enjoy this?” But George seemed to love it. To George, he was providing food for thousands of people while contributing to the environment with his organic farming practices. He understood the significance of his job, and that’s where he derived his job satisfaction.

What are your next steps?
Currently, we’re finishing post-production on the documentary that will be available at the same time as the book. Also, I just started the One-Week Job Program, which will allow others to have a similar experience. We’re providing three individuals $3,000 each over the course of two months. They’ll perform eight different one-week jobs and blog from the website. Anyone interested can apply at OneWeekJob.com.

The One-Week Job Project will be available across Canada beginning April 17 from Penguin Books.

Atom Egoyan

My interview with Atom Egoyan appears in this week's WE.

Acclaimed Canadian director Atom Egoyan on the set of his latest film, Chloe, with stars Amanda Seyfried (left) and Julianne Moore.

Credit: supplied

Atom Egoyan lets ‘Chloe’ put words in his mouth

Posted By: Andrea Warner

03/24/2010 12:00 AM

When Atom Egoyan watched the sexy French thriller Nathalie in 2005, he had no idea that three years later he’d be at the helm of Chloe, its North American adaptation, and knee-deep in A-list actors, rising stars, and unthinkable tragedy.

Now, on the other side of directing his most star-studded, Hollywood-friendly fare to date, the director spoke with WE by phone while relaxing at his parents’ home in Victoria, shortly before embarking on several weeks of non-stop publicity for the film. (It opens in select cities, including Vancouver, on March 26.)

For Egoyan fans, the film’s premise — a middle-aged woman (Julianne Moore) hires a young, unstable escort (Amanda Seyfried) to test her husband’s (Liam Neeson) fidelity, only to find herself seduced as well — echoes elements of his previous work. Drama, deceit, and the darkest aspects of sexuality can be found in previous Egoyan works such as The Sweet Hereafter and Where the Truth Lies. The difference with Chloe, he says, was freedom from his own words.

“It was an opportunity to work outside my normal comfort zone,” Egoyan laughs, alluding to his first time directing a feature script that he didn’t pen himself. “In terms of my own scripts, I was getting more and more complicated, so this was a really good opportunity. It’s subject matter that was close enough to my own sensibility, [but] it offered me the option to sort of simplify my own work.”

The script highlights sex, obsession, and insecurity, and offers a particularly steamy scene in which Moore and Seyfried crank up the heat. (Egoyan’s own rule to ensure a natural performance between his co-stars: “Make sure they understand how they’re being photographed, that they’re going to look great!”) But it was the script’s underlying theme — a long-married couple trying to find a way back to each other — that proved particularly close to the director’s heart.

“I think there’s this point at which you take certain things for granted, and you forget that a relationship involves a lot of work,” Egoyan says. “Even though things become more comfortable, that very comfort creates a strange paralysis sometimes, and people can kind of drift into a strange place where they lose an erotic excitement. It takes a lot of work; you have to find space and ways to reignite things.”

Somewhat surprisingly, writer-director-producer Ivan Reitman, best known for big-budget comedies like Ghostbusters, was the initial mastermind behind Chloe. He handpicked Egoyan after deciding to adapt writer-director Anne Fontaine’s Nathalie for North American audiences. Egoyan was flattered by Reitman’s selection, but acknowledges there was some give and take throughout filming.

“I had heard that he’s a tough producer, but it’s all about communication,” Egoyan says. “We spent a lot of time together beforehand. He was very clear with me: He’d loved my movies, but there were certain things he didn’t want this to be and certain things he wanted me to focus on. And I listened to him, because this was a film that he wanted to direct at one point, but he realized he wouldn’t be able to get the performers he wanted because he’s used to doing comedy... and so he was very honest with me and I was very honest with him.”

Convincing Reitman to let him set Chloe in Toronto (instead of its scripted location, San Francisco) required some effort on Egoyan’s part. He attributes this, in part, to a generational shift between the two of them.

“Ivan, James Cameron, Norman Jewison — these are directors that had to leave the country [to achieve success],” Egoyan says. “I came from a different formation. I was really happy making my films here, because these are films that couldn’t be made in the States. I never had that fantasy of moving to the States for my career.”

And yet, for all of Chloe’s remarkable firsts, one tragic accident almost stalled the entire film. Neeson’s wife, Natasha Richardson, died during filming after falling and hitting her head at a Quebec ski resort. Over a year has passed, but Egoyan still sounds awed when he remembers Neeson returning to the set and his role as a philandering husband (depicted in graphic sex scenes) after taking just a week off to bury his wife and console his two children.

“He was a hero,” Egoyan says. “When he came back, he wanted to finish the film as quickly as possible, and we just had to contain our emotions. It was amazing. It was a miracle. But, given what this film was about, and what he had to play, it was really monumental what he was able to pull off.”

With the emotional and mental toll of Chloe nearly behind him, Egoyan is pragmatic about whether his future plans include directing more scripts written by other people.

“You have to be really honest with yourself,” he says. “This script was close enough to me that I felt I could do something unique with it. You can read a script and enjoy it, but are you the best person to direct it? If there are people you think would do a better job, you shouldn’t be directing it.”

Hot Tub Time Machine

My review of Hot Tub Time Machine appears in WE this week.

HOT TUB TIME MACHINE

Starring John Cusack, Rob Corddry

Directed by Steve Pink

Hot Tub Time Machine pretty much plays its cards in its title, so if those four words don’t make you smile, just stay home. This is a comedy that laughs at itself, its stars, and everything ’80s, including Cold War paranoia, affirmative action, cocaine use, gay panic, and, of course, that decade’s Day-Glo parade of neon fashion travesties.

Half of the film’s winking brilliance is in the casting: ’80s poster boy John Cusack is Adam, a corporate schmuck who’s grown apart from his old buddies, Lou (Rob Corddry) and Nick (Craig Robinson), and whose mid-twenties computer-nerd nephew, Jacob (Clark Duke), lives in his basement. After an accident nearly claims Lou’s life, the four men embark on a weekend road-trip to revisit the ski-lodge hangout of the original trio’s youthful glory days.

Too bad it’s now a shuttered ghost town. The bellhop (an excellent Crispin Glover) is surly and one-armed, and the hot tub’s on the fritz. But then, suddenly, the hot tub’s bubbling invitingly, and the men jump in for some drunken, hilarious debauchery. They wake up and — bam!— it’s 1986. Oh, and Chevy Chase is the mystical, cryptic repairman who instructs the group to do exactly as they did the first time around, over two decades ago (even though Jacob wasn’t even alive then), so that they don’t alter the future and other time-travel mumbo jumbo. Of course, the older trio can’t resist trying to do things better the second time around, since their current lives are such messes.

The script, co-written by Josh Heald and Sean Anderson (She’s Out of My League, Sex Drive), offers a clever hijacking on the typical bromance genre of raunchy guy comedies, but it sags a few times under the weight of a handful of predictable moments. Luckily, these stumbles are offset by many awesome WTF scenes (such as an oft-referenced, never explained “Great White Buffalo” chant) and a cast seemingly game for anything. What might have turned out to be another tepid dip into bathroom and locker-room humour is instead one of the year’s funniest films so far. ★★★ —Andrea Warner

HIVE3

My review of HIVE3 is in this week's WE.

Theatre Replacement’s S.P.A.M.

Credit: supplied

STAGE: HIVE returns with eclecticism intact

Posted By: Andrea Warner

It might seem like something as cool and fun as HIVE, the annual independent-theatre showcase now in its third year, belongs in a larger and more cosmopolitan city, like Montreal or Berlin. What Vancouver has done to deserve it, who knows? But I, for one, am appropriately grateful. HIVE3, which launched March 11 and continues through to the 20th, offers the same ambitious set-up as in previous years: a continuous rotation of site-specific theatre installations, all under 10 minutes, from 12 different local, independent companies. The individual productions never fail to surprise, with bursts of creativity on display no matter which way you turn. Here are some highlights from my first go-round.

THE INTERVIEW
Boca del Lupo’s sobering and sad meditation about a journalist who struggles with survivor’s guilt after a tour of duty as a foreign correspondent. It’s wisely crafted, intimate, and offers food for thought on the experiences most of us take for granted.

S.P.A.M.
An audience-participation fest that needed better microphones on the night I saw it, but that features a fun twist on the act of drunk-dialing. Two members from Theatre Replacement sit at small desks with martinis and a list of phone numbers from audience members, each of whom have agreed to be phoned and asked live questions (which cover a range of embarrassing topics, like first kisses). It’s lighter fare than some of the other pieces, but it’s damn fun.

NAPathy
Easily the strangest experience I had at HIVE3 was witnessing the collaboration between Theatre Conspiracy and Gasheart Theatre. Its three actors — loosely representing father, mother, and child — were given the hardest task of the night, tackling a squirrely script, laden with subtext and metaphor, that alternately lambastes and celebrates Canadian icons and nationalistic fervour, and also finds time to address subjects such as cupcakes, sexism, and physical abuse.

ANA
November Theatre presented one of the loveliest moments of the evening with a nostalgic trip down memory lane that romanticizes the vinyl LP over digital music. A solo performance that commands the audience’s attention.

HOUSE/HOME
Pi Theatre accomplishes something incredible, crafting one of the rawest, most compellingly emotional pieces of theatre to grace any Vancouver stage this year. That it lasts a mere 10 minutes, at most, is the icing on the cake. Wearing headphones, the audience is entirely immersed in a push-pull war of words between a married couple, and a third party who sings the soundtrack to their possibly unravelling existence.

HIVE virgins should note that the evening, which features the theatre components from 7-10:30 p.m., and various indie bands every evening starting at 11 p.m., is an exercise in organized chaos. Planning to see every event? Schedule your attendance to spread out over the remaining three nights, because gaining entrance to the show of your choice isn’t really your choice at all. (For example, Electric Company holds draws about every 30 to 60 minutes to determine which people get to view their work — one person at a time.) Gaining entrance to many of the spectacles is a crapshoot, but almost everything you hit is worthwhile.

HIVE3 continues to March 20 at the Centre for Digital Media (577 Great Northern Way). Tickets $20-$25 from 604-629-8849. Cover for bands only (after 10 p.m.), $5. Info: BuzzBuzzBuzz.ca

Indigo Girls

My interview with the Indigo Girls appears in the current issue of Xtra West.

OUT IN FRONT. "It was scary to be gay - we didn't want that to be our identifier at first," the Indigo Girls' Amy Ray (back, with Emily Saliers) admits. "We had mentors who were women artists and had seen them be so pigeonholed."

The Indigo Girls on how they stay relevant
By Andrea Warner

Their image might be as fashionable as socks and sandals, but the Indigo Girls’ Amy Ray and Emily Saliers don’t care.

In fact, the lesbian folk-rock duo has made a career ignoring the naysayers and bulldozing the barriers of convention. How else could they have survived more than 20 years in the music industry, navigating a male-dominated, heterosexual hierarchy?

Ray admits it hasn’t been easy. The Indigo Girls released their first major label album in 1988 and earned a Grammy Award in 1990. They continued to generate Billboard-charting albums, building a large fan base even before joining the women-only Lilith Fair festival, which may have marked the height of their popularity.

“I feel like women are still stuck in that cycle where for a while it’s really trendy to have more strong women and more women played on the radio, and then there’ll be a backlash against it,” Ray says.

She and Saliers agree that rock music is the biggest hurdle for women in music.

“Rock is still really male and really white,” Ray says. “Folk music, that’s where women are either kind of trendy or they’re not.

“When we started, we were coming on the heels of our mentors who had to struggle to have a word in the studio,” she continues. “The producer would run things and take the instruments out of the women’s hands and put them in some studio guy’s hands, and that was the story we were told by our older friends in the corporate major label world. Then Heart came along, and other groups, that made it obvious that women can do it themselves.”

But the Indigo Girls weren’t just women being self-sufficient. They were also lesbians, publicly out in virtually untested waters.

“It was scary to be gay — we didn’t want that to be our identifier at first,” Ray admits. “We had mentors who were women artists and had seen them be so pigeonholed and were so bitter about it. You know, ‘Don’t just play to a gay audience, it will be your doom.’ After our second CD, I started talking more about it in the press, and Emily was coming around to talking about it. We definitely came out through a time when fear was a big part of it.”

Being openly gay allowed the Indigo Girls to mine a built-in audience, but it’s proven to be a double-edged sword. For better or for worse, their music has been described as “political lesbian folk music.”

“We might sing to an audience of political lesbians, and we might be political lesbians, but I don’t know if you can categorize our music that way,” Rays says. “I understand why people use that. I think we’re still in a queer movement in music where we’re trying to be part of an infrastructure where the gatekeepers are still straight white men. But I don’t really pay attention to it anymore. In my opinion, it’s not really a way to define music.... It’s like when they say, ‘That guy plays white hip hop.’ You know they don’t mean anything good,” Ray laughs.

“I can see why we’re labelled as such,” Saliers says. “There’s not a lot of open-mindedness. Once you’re gay, you’re gay and you’re pegged. My first fear was that we would be pigeonholed and we were, but that’s just short-mindedness. It’s just life. Not all of our songs have political content, and they’re not all about lesbian reality, though that’s the lens with which we view life, obviously. Can’t get around that.”

It’s also impossible to ignore the fact that plenty of other rock and pop acts have surpassed the Indigo Girls in popularity. Lady Gaga (Ray is a huge fan), Katy Perry and a host of others have recently claimed the spotlight, but neither Saliers or Ray is concerned about fading into obscurity just yet.

“The proof is in young people experiencing our music in a positive way. If you can speak to young people, then I think your music is still relevant. We’ve been around so long that our first generation of fans all have kids now, practically, so we get their kids, thank God,” Saliers laughs.

“Amy and I write songs about what’s happening in the world, and we’re deeply troubled by war and injustice and inspired by nature, and that subject matter will always be relevant. It’s a human concern; it doesn’t matter if you’re a lesbian, an artist or a postal worker.”

The recently remounted Lilith Fair will likely broaden the Indigo Girls’ audience, and the timing couldn’t be better. They’ve recently given the middle finger to conventional record labels, successfully going independent again and reclaiming their roots with their most recent album, Poseidon and the Bitter Bug. Their last independent release was 25 years ago.

“It’s so liberating,” Saliers says. “There’s nothing a label can do for us that we can’t do on our own. We have the same management and the same agent, and we’ve had the same touring people for a long time, so we can do it ourselves. There’s nothing a label does for us except get in our way, slow down the process of getting stuff out and take a chunk of our money.”

“We’re older, we’ve been around for a long time, we’re queer, we’re political, all those things that record labels don’t know how to deal with,” Ray adds. “It’s funny. It’s like they were better about it in the late ‘80s, early ‘90s, dealing with that strident artist personality that’s doing something against the grain.

“Major labels are for people who can be part of the mainstream and that’s fine, but we don’t fit in there,” Ray says. “It feels good to be doing what we want. That’s how we started and it’s always been where my heart’s at.”

Hey Ocean!

My interview with Hey Ocean! appears in this week's WE: Best of the City issue.

Hey Ocean! respond with varying degrees of enthusiasm to their Best Local Band win.

Credit: supplied

Sea of possibilities

Posted By: Andrea Warner

03/10/2010 12:00 AM

Five years ago, Vancouver’s Hey Ocean! were just dipping their toes into Vancouver’s seemingly bottomless indie music scene. Nowadays, the pop-funk quartet (singer-flautist Ashleigh Ball, singer-guitarist David Beckingham, singer-bassist Dave Vertesi, and drummer Adam Cormier) are seasoned pros who have built up such a substantial following, they took the top spot in the Best Local Band category of this year’s Best of the City readers’ poll.

WE interviewed Beckingham about Hey Ocean!’s success, and the group’s unlikely connection to Gene Simmons of KISS.

What are some of the biggest challenges for up-and-coming bands in Vancouver, and how can you get past them?
Beckingham: We started off just playing locally, in Vancouver and in Victoria, and with the odd Whistler show. And then, about three years ago, we started touring coast to coast in Canada. About two years ago, we played our first show in the States, and since then have toured there a few times, and our visits there are ever-increasing in length and response. To up-and-coming bands in Vancouver, I would say the biggest challenge can be our own misconceptions of the music industry. A lot of bands think that someone will discover them, sign them to a major label, and create a career for them that makes them rich and famous. They’re wrong. This happens rarely, but more and more bands these days are finding success — or at least making a living — being heavily involved in doing their own dirty work. If you believe in the music you’re making and people dig it, then go with it: make a record, and tour as much and as far as it makes sense and you can afford, then make another record and tour even further. It’s hard work sometimes and rewarding other times, but as long as you have a good team and you’re constantly creating and showing people what you do, you’ll be fine.

The band has a pretty strong DIY ethic. How important is creative control to the group’s success?
That depends on one’s idea of success. People have tried to persuade us to make changes to our songwriting and band dynamic that they thought would make us more commercially viable, and we’re always open to listen to people’s advice. If we completely disagree with it, then it goes in the can, and if it seems to make us all go, “Hmmm, interesting,” then it gets talked about. We’ve been a DIY and a LAYG — learn-as-you-go — band from the start.

Gene Simmons came to check you guys out back in July. What’s the best piece of wisdom he offered you?
I think that Gene saw us as a Canadian DIY act that really didn’t know too much about this biz — compared to him, the veteran, anyway — and that wouldn’t be doing anything really significant in the future without his resources. I think he was quite taken aback when we didn’t jump at the offer to open for the likes of U2 within a year if we signed all of our creative power over to him. He did have some good songwriting advice for us to brew over; he was very adamant that we focus on personal pronouns, giving the listener an immediate person with whom to relate. What a guy!

She's Out of My League review

My review of She's Out of My League is online at WestEnder.com

SHE’S OUT OF MY LEAGUE
Starring Jay Baruchel, Alice Eve
Directed by Jim Field Smith

Molly is a hard 10 and Kirk is barely a five, so how could the beautiful girl with the great rack, cool job, and all that hockey knowledge want to bump bits with an awkward, lanky loser who works in airport security? Because She’s Out of My League is the quintessential male fantasy flick, wherein geeks inherit the earth and nail the babes, but with a tidy After-School Special self-esteem hug thrown in for good measure.

Kirk (Jay Baruchel) is invited to meet up with Molly (Alice Eve) after he finds her lost cellphone, and, much to his buddies’ shock, she asks him out on a date. As his friends and family talk incessantly — and often stupidly — about how impossibly hot Molly is, and how the “chasm” on the hotness scale is too wide for Kirk to make the leap, our gawky hero suffers numerous embarrassments and setbacks that culminate in a predictable climax.

The film’s premise, while very 1980s, doesn’t feel completely stale, thanks to some reasonably funny one-liners, a memorable testicles-shaving scene, and the two likeable leads. Eve’s not just a typical pretty face; she has a solid grasp on making Molly feel three-dimensional, no matter how hard the script attempts to reduce her to merely the sum of her body parts. Meanwhile, Baruchel conjures an enjoyable combination of Christian Slater, John Cusack, and Patrick Dempsey, with enough of his own wit added in to make Kirk empathetic even when he’s at his most irritating. She’s Out of My League scores two points for casting, but loses five for predictability, rendering it a victim of its own “Hot or Not?” scoring system. Mostly, it’s just lukewarm. ★★—Andrea Warner

Remember me review

My review of Remember Me appears in Fast Forward Weekly in Calgary.

Remember Me memorably awful

Romance aims for deep meaning, falls far short of the mark

Published March 11, 2010 by Andrea Warner in Film Reviews

Twilight’s Robert Pattinson is a different kind of brooding in the banal romantic drama, Remember Me.

Remember Me

In the indulgent and banal romantic drama Remember Me, Robert Pattinson (Twilight's pretty, pale and brooding vampire heartthrob) proves he's not looking to stretch much beyond his comfort zone. He trades fangs for bleached teeth as Tyler, a young New Yorker with a pulse (barely), who's also pretty, pale and brooding, but for good reason. He's still grieving his brother's suicide, which has essentially turned him into one of those sensitive, tortured douches who quotes Gandhi, writes poetry, creates "funny" and complex filing methods at his bookstore job and audits university classes for no good reason. Well, one good reason: He meets Ally (Emilie de Ravin), a girl with her own demons from witnessing her mother's murder on a subway platform 10 years earlier.

Tyler's grief has manifested itself in numerous clichéd ways: chain-smoking, sleeping late and an inability to abide authority. He's indignantly angry with his workaholic father (a miscast Pierce Brosnan) for not being more loving towards his sister, Caroline (the film's sole bright spot, played by Ruby Jenirs), a 12-year-old wise-child being bullied at school. His short fuse leads to a scuffle with a hardened cop (Chris Cooper), who also happens to be Ally's dad. Tyler allows himself to be coerced into trying to hook up with her as revenge, but ends up falling for her instead.

The script, from first-time writer Will Fetters, is annoying and clunky, repeatedly congratulating itself on its own perceived cleverness. But be assured, it's never clever, not once, to anyone over the age of 12. The dialogue thinks it’s layered with subtext and philosophical grandeur, but is ultimately laughable. Sample exchange: Ally: "I don't date sociology majors." Tyler: "Lucky for you I'm undecided." Ally: "'Bout what?" Tyler: (pause and meaningful stare) "Everything."

The dialogue, though, isn't even the worst part. Nor is having to listen to Pattinson (English), de Ravin (Australian) and Brosnan (Irish) rock-climb the slippery surfaces of their American accents. It's the slow-motion wreck that happens within the last 30 minutes of the film as you realize for sure, without a shadow of a doubt, where this is all heading. The climax aims for deep meaning and subtle contemplation, but settles for grossly obvious and emotionally ineffective, appealing only to Twihards and young girls who cut themselves. Remember Me proves impossible to forget, but for all the wrong reasons.

Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt

Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt! is the best name ever for whatever it is these folks do.

Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt! couldn't be more ecstatic

Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'

by Andrea Warner

• provided
• The lovable Neil Fridd, in full bliss with the Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt!

The Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt!

Just when it seems bands with punctuation marks had gone the way of the Aughts, Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt! comes barreling into pop consciousness. The assembly of hipsters — the brainchild of de facto leader, 22-year-old Neil Fridd — aren't reinvigorating synth-pop or indie-rock, but rather marrying the two with avant garde, open-arm party spectacles.

The N.Y.C.-based collective doesn't even have an album to its credit yet, but they've already been profiled in The New York Times, thanks to a reputation for hosting body-shaking, beat-breaking throw-downs. It's elevated by their "just fucking do it!" joie de vivre and a propensity for flamboyant costumes that seem to come straight from the world's most awesome tickle-trunk.

"We show up with a billion lights, bags of costumes, 60 or more light sabers, and really good songs," Fridd says. "We grab mics and say, 'We're going to throw an awesome dance party, run around, and scream about how fucking cool it is to finally kiss that person you've been crushing on for months.' There is nothing better than partying until five in the morning when you have to be up for work at seven, and how your friends are so fucking great."

The group's hard-partying, love everyone, dance 'n' thrash vibe doesn't necessarily translate on their upcoming debut LP, I Love You. I Love You. I Love You And I'm In Love With You. Have An Awesome Day! Have The Best Day Of Your Life!. The loose vibe of most of the tracks calls to mind a drug-fueled campfire singalong, particularly the casually catchy and nostalgic "Snowday," which boasts some nifty banjo playing and periodic vocal bursts from the backing singers.

While it makes sense to release an LP so people who can't go to shows have something other than grainy YouTube videos to capture some aspect of Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt!, the point of this group is to bring together hundreds of young and old bodies, squeezing, sweating, and congealing into one giant, gyrating fire hazard. If someone is dressed like a disco unicorn, all the better.

Basia Bulat

My interview with Basia Bulat is online at WestEnder.com

Basia Bulat. Autoharp not pictured.

Credit: supplied

By Andrea Warner

Basia Bulat wasn’t looking to become the face of the autoharp when she released her debut disc in 2005. Made mostly for friends, the self-titled EP featured a variety of stringed instruments, but most people seemed to immediately latch onto her affection for the archaic, seldom-seem zither, thanks in large part to her tendency to pose with one in photographs. The EP caught the attention of legendary U.K. indie label Rough Trade, which, in 2007, released Bulat’s critically acclaimed (and Polaris-nominated) full-length album, Oh My Darling.

Three years later, Bulat’s just released her much-anticipated follow-up, Heart of My Own, another sweetly charming strum-fest that showcases the Ontario native’s strong vocals (reminiscent of Natalie Merchant), and also features subtle detours into rock and roots territory, with plenty of drums, banjo, and violin. And, of course, there’s still the autoharp, which is never far from any conversation about Bulat.

Bulat spoke to WE over the phone last week, while the 2010 Winter Games were still in full swing.

How’s your day going?
I was watching the Olympics. It was great.

Do you have a favourite event?
I’m a little bit partial to watching snowboarding and half-pipe events, just because I used to snowboard. I actually used to teach snowboarding. (Laughs) Yeah, little known fact. I haven’t been in three or four years — it’s shameful, really. It was in high school when I was teaching.

So, it was snowboard and then autoharp.
(Laughs) Yeah. It was a logical progression.

Were you surprised by how well your album was received in this world of Nickelback appreciation, considering it features a lot of ukulele and autoharp?
I wasn’t really surprised because of the instruments I was playing, because I was also playing guitar and piano. I think my first record — I don’t think you can plan for people or expect people to like your music. You just have to be really grateful if they do. It’s not necessarily something where I was going, “Oh, I’m so shocked.” I was just really humbled by it. And for it to mean something to people, that’s a really big thing; that’s not something I would take for granted. I’ve had people come up to me after a show and tell me Oh My Darling has helped them through a really tough time, or different songs have helped them through this or that, and so that’s incredibly moving for me, because that’s what music does for me. To be able to do that for someone else is really incredible.

What’s been the steepest learning curve for you between Oh My Darling and Heart of My Own?
Oh, there are so many learning curves! (Laughs) I don’t think I’ve had it harder than anyone else. I think I work really hard, and I know a lot of artists and musicians who do, and I think a lot of people — it’s also the kind of thing you go through in any career, in a lot of ways. You try to make sure that what you’re doing is being true to yourself and feeling confident in your work. There were certain things for me: for example, I hadn’t played solo until my record had come out. I had this opportunity and it was necessary that I played solo; I was opening for Wintersleep on the East Coast, and I had a band for me for all these gigs, but I had to play this one solo show in Newfoundland. I was terrified because it was 1,000 people! (Laughs) But it’s a testament to how kind and generous the people of Newfoundland are; they made it seem like we were all in a living room together — it was so much fun.

What are the biggest differences between creating music on the road versus a space you call your home?
I still kind of feel like I’m making songs for my friends and myself, so, in some ways, that hasn’t changed. I think a lot of touring — it’s not at home, but just writing songs and performing feels like I’m at home. (Laughs) If that makes any sense. I’m just always writing, so I’m really lucky that I just keep having ideas for songs. I’m the kind of writer that, as soon as an idea comes into my head, I have to try and find a way to get it out, regardless of wherever I am.

Basia Bulat plays St. James Hall (3214 W. 10th), 7 pm. Tickets $16 from TicketWeb.ca