My first email to Peter McAuslan asking for an interview for my monthly Gazette column met with a rebuff. “No thanks, I’ve had enough publicity lately,” he said. When I insisted the story wasn’t about him, it was about the Empress Theatre (a.k.a. Cinema V, on Sherbrooke St. West), he asked for my phone number.
The ensuing conversation resulted in one of the most trenchant stories I’ve ever had the pleasure of writing in all my years as a journalist (The Gazette, May 14). At last, a leading member of the Anglo Montreal cultural community was prepared to speak up on what ails us: “Bureaucrats and backbiters,” he said, summarizing a painful analysis of why, after a decade of hard work, he and fellow members of the Empress board of directors have been unable to get the 82-year-old monument transformed into a cultural centre.
In Mr. McAuslan’s opinion, bureaucracies are sucking up all the money, doling the remnants out in dribs and drabs according to strange, impenetrable criteria. And instead of banding together to fight for their cause, Anglo artists are quietly fighting each other. Three different groups have distinct visions of the kind of performing space they need, so various levels of government are able to play them off against each other. It’s a competitive race. The players themselves seem to accept that only one new theatre will be created for Montreal’s itinerant English-language theatre scene. If that.
Ouch. The very subject brings back painful memories.
It must have been spring, the weather was warm. Clare Schapiro and I were busy launching THEATRE 1774, a bold venture committed publically to putting on plays involving Anglo and Francophone artists. At the time, nobody else was doing it (that much has changed!). It soon became clear that only a designated performance space could enable us to build an audience. So I brought together a handful of my peers and dragged them, one by one, to see an empty space at 3700 Saint-Dominique St., just off the Main. Interest was strong, a lot of beer consumed at La Cabane over conversations about our imminent salvation.
Then one afternoon I went back for a further chat with the landlord. He gave me a strange look. “The lease has been signed,” he said, “by your friends.”
My what?!
Richard Simas and Andres Hausmann of Imago Theatre had moved in behind my back. I phoned Hausmann immediately to demand an explanation. He told me not to worry, Richard was a great administrator, he would work on behalf of all. Indeed, THEATRE 1774 could stand in line behind Richard’s girlfriend (a dancer), Imago, and whoever else came along. Théâtre La Chapelle is still running today, a multi-disciplinary space that books mainly francophone and touring shows, and of course Richard’s dancing partner.
A few years later, Hausmann fled the city and Clare Schapiro ended up taking over what remained of his company. She’s still holding and attending endless meetings and filling out forms in search of that elusive performance space . . . 17 years later.
I feel for Peter McAuslan.
In 1997, after nine years of hard, low-paying labour, I left THEATRE 1774, passing on a grant base of $100,000, a small surplus, one major theatre award and two nominations, four published plays and a thick binder of press clippings. I was exhausted, and over the winter of 1997-98 processed the psychic damage by writing a novel in which the main character is a plateau rat with an uncanny resemblance to self. My favourite scene in Jump takes place at La Chapelle, where a struggling theatre company performs Waiting for Godot to an audience of one mysterious old man. He loves it.
By the time the novel came out, I was living in the south of France, convinced I would never return to the scene of such disappointment. My new friends who knew nothing of the city told me Jump read like a love letter to Montreal.
On that note, I think I’ll pour myself a pastis, for old time’s sake, and, when I’m feeling better, give some thought as to why the more things change the more they stay the same. Or get worse.
Marianne Ackerman’s 3rd novel, Piers’ Desire, is set in the South of France. Rover offers $10 off the retail price at the Mile End launch. Actress Marthe Turgeon (star of Céleste, a THEATRE 1774 production), will read from the novel.
Casa del Popolo, 4873 blvd. St Laurent. Wednesday, May 19, 5 – 7 pm.
link to The Gazette, May 14.
link to La Chapelle
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
Marianne, you might have had quite a different take on "what went wrong" with the Empress had you spoken to Board Members, all of them. That would have been quite a story!
Abagail, I'm sure you are right. This is a story I would LOVE to read. I send a detailed memo to Gazette editors months ago, advising them to put an investigative reporter on the entire subject of theatre space for Anglo artists. It's a mess, a sorry state. Very political and very important to this community. Dialtone. They just don't have the will to take cultural/political stories seriously. No doubt, had I offered to write it myself, they would have fretted, dredged up a ridiculously tiny sum of money and let me do it. Frankly, I don't have the time. I just published a novel and am struggling with getting the word out; I'm overdue on a long piece for Walrus Magazine (Toronto), I'm supposed to be writing a biography of Marie-Claire Blais, and I'm running Rover!!! Every time I touch a story such as Peter's bad mood, I feel I'm getting the tip of a volcano, to twist a cliche. But I couldn't resist. Please, write to Catherine Wallace and convince her to put one of her award-winning blood hounds on the case. I will tell her what I know for free. cwallace@thegazette.canwest.com Marianne
Old friend, a quibble – "At the time, nobody else was doing it." Now with all due respect, Imago 'was doing it' which is one of the reasons we became friends, n'est pas? And yes, I did flee the city eventually, presciently exhausted you could say. But hey, there were great times as well, and perhaps one day I'll return and we'll work together on another lost cause, 'the only ones worth fighting for.'
All the best,
Andres