The vibes were resonating at the Théâtre Ste. Catherine with the now third annual presentation of Jesus Christ Superband, the improv-related spoof of cult hit Jesus Christ Superstar.
Mot/town: Kathleen Winter
Apples and pumpkins were plentiful, everything bursting ripe as Kathleen Winter read us the story of Kerry's burgeoning sexuality.
By Leila Marshy
Montréal’s Napoleon Dynamite
L’Ouragan Fuck You Tabarnak! is Jutra-nominated filmmaker Ara Ball’s profanity-laced riposte to Napoleon Dynamite, if the latter were a dark comedy set in 90s Montréal’s…
By Strahil Ovcharov
At home in your skin
At first glance, they are hard-looking men. Then you see the scars under the pectorals, and read the stories on the cards. These are post-operative transgender individuals.
By Jack Ruttan
With Bear, Bo can be the champion he’s always wanted to be, and his life seems to take on a magical quality. But the magic ends when Gerry’s boss gets wind of Bo’s sister, and wants to put her in his carnival freak show.
Madeleine Thien met Elise and me in a Mile End alley. There always seemed to be barking in the distance. Fitting for the author of Dogs at the Perimeter.
We Animals takes us on a 15-year journey into dark, forlorn territory. From stillness and suffering, the subjects look on with disquieting human-like stares.
Albino children being abandoned and rounded up in prison-like shelters; sometimes, murdered for their body parts. They are supposed to bring luck.
It was a thrill to see this cast working together, playing the thousands who made up the warring Greeks and Trojans.
Peter Huang’s birth is his father’s dream come true – a son. Too bad for Peter and his father, this bliss is ignorance of Peter’s true gender. Peter is a woman inside.
Getting into the mood to vote Liberal doesn’t come naturally to me. It requires a rigorous programme of intellectual gymnastics. It’s not something I wake up and do willingly or naturally or with enthusiasm.
Looking elegant, Karina Gauvin set the mood with the opening section, comprising one line and delivered with implosive force: “J’ai seul la clef de cette parade sauvage.”
As the snow stubbornly clings to grey sidewalks, it is easy to forget that just two years ago the Maple Spring was in full force. Tenir tête and Les femmes changent la lutte offer two very different versions of the student strike.
So I have this Muslim friend, and he’s rich like most Muslims are and, like all rich Muslims in Montreal, he’s a student at McGill. He hates swimming, never goes near a pool if he can help it. “It’s the Catholics,” he says, “they let their children pee in the pool!”
Some actors carry an entire movie on their shoulders. Irrfan Khan carries The Lunchbox on his face. His beautiful, supple, gentle, forlorn, intelligent, bereft face.
Michael Paryla was found locked in his own apartment comatose from a mixture of milk, whiskey and sleeping pills. Now his distant cousin, Montreal-born Andrew Steinmetz, is trying to reconstruct his life.
The story is very simple and direct and the writing is clear and delightful, but the big bonus is getting to see Clare Coulter strut her stuff in a role that fits like a glove.
Montreal vocal ensemble VivaVoce is nothing if not adaptable. Unusually, they seem equally adept at everything from John Cage to the Renaissance, which is the focus of this sumptuous new recording, their sixth.