“My favorite dance move, it really must be in “I Like to Move It” and shaking my thigh fat for four and a half minutes. It makes me crack up every time. I’m not fake laughing—I’m killing myself laughing on stage because I’m shaking my thigh fat for everyone.”

—Heather Lindsay, performer in The Show Must Go On

To listen to an interview with Lindsay click here.

The great strength of The Show Must Go On—other than the shaking of thigh fat—is the way it inspires audience interaction rather than demanding it. The show opens with the technician who sits in front of the audience, turning off the lights and inserting a CD from a large stack sitting to his left. The entirety of Tony and Maria’s duet “Tonight” from West Side Story. Nothing happens.

As the lights slowly rise, the tech ejects the CD, puts it in its case and inserts the next. This punctuation of changing CDs marks the passage of time through the show and seems to never fail to get a laugh. The song ends. The third CD goes in, “Come Together” by the Beatles, and the audience decides that it’s acceptable to sing along. There is no cue that this is what the audience should be doing, it’s just that there is nothing else to do, and The Show Must Go On takes the time it needs to allow the audience to figure it out.

The discomfort created by watching nearly ten minutes of nothing is palpable, as is the delight of the realization that you can sing along. I’m fairly certain I was the youngest audience member, and the crowd looked pretty sedate, but over the course of the show they hooted, hollered, clapped, stomped, sang and sighed. One man even stormed the stage, but was quickly ushered back into the audience. Clearly there was a line of what was and wasn’t acceptable regarding audience participation and it was exciting to see the show get the audience to tread that line with almost no direct communication.

Midway through the third song the actors finally entered and things really got weird with “I Like to Move It.” Thigh fat wasn’t the only thing these actors were moving, and the grotesque sexuality was hilarious and mesmerizing. The show meandered from bizarre humor to intellectual minimalism to sigh inducing pathos as the focus shifts between the dancers, the audience and the songs.

The publicity promises that “fans of last year’s That Night Follows Day will find in Jérôme Bel’s masterpiece a truly kindred spirit,” and like That Night Follows Day, almost nothing happens over the course of the performance, yet I found myself entirely captivated from beginning to end.

A man in a bunny suit. Puppets in a to-scale model of Auschwitz. Eating a slice of pizza as a dance theme. Edgar Allan Poe. Must be  the three-week theatre marathon that is the PuSh International Performing Arts Festival!

Founded by Norman Armour and Katrina Dunn in 2003, the annual festival has hosted some of the most confounding, unrelatable and provocative performances from around the world. Last year’s memorable shows included a comedian who handed out “cum cloths,” and hovering helium balloons which reflected lights onto a projector while the dramaturg spoke about her childhood in tones similar to Bobba Fett. Hey, there’s something for everyone!

All jokes aside, what is PuSh really about? What made Armour and Dunn say, ‘What Vancouver really needs is some freaky shit’? In an interview from New York, where he was making a last-minute pit stop before Wednesday’s opening night, Armour explained that, “At the root of live performance, for me, is the notion of witness. The idea of being in a room, something is happening, and you’re watching it happen…By what lens do you watch something? Do you watch the world around you?”

The festival has evolved, and gained enough respect in the performing arts community that Armour is now one of the voices leading the charge against BC arts funding cuts, and is considered by many to be a powerful spokesperson who can connect with local audiences. Armour spoke to that, saying, “There are things in the festival this year that really speak about values. What do you believe in? What are you willing to fight for?”

This year, far more than in years past, PuSh has to make a stand. The actors, stage managers, costume designers, producers, directors,  and audience all have the same thing at stake: the continued existence of a thriving, sustainable arts community in Vancouver.

The Cultural Olympiad is taking off some of the burn for the present year by funding hundreds of individual shows, but when the Games leave, what will be left? Armour hopes that young artists don’t flee to Toronto in the next few years with the potential arts cuts looming on the horizon.

“It’s a small irony, but not an insignificant one that great work is often created out of adverse conditions.” Thanks, Norman, I’ll remember that.

Daniel MacIvor is no stranger to the West Coast. He has toured one-man shows and even directed a two men show here in the West Coast. Just last year, he performed in the play His Greatness at the Arts Club.

“I like Vancouver,” MacIvor confesses. “I’m from the East Coast. People here call the East Coast Ontario, but there’s no coast in Ontario, so it really isn’t a coast!” MacIvor laughs. “I’m from the actual East Coast—I’m from Nova Scotia, but I’ve lived most of the time in Toronto.”

Ruby Slippers Theatre’s production of MacIvor’s A Beautiful View is, in short, a love story about friendship. “It’s two women, they meet, and kind of just randomly at this camping store in their 20s, and they sort of begin this weird sort of friendship that goes on for 20 years or something, and the play sort of follows that…Their friendship, it has a sexual component that surprises both of them, as neither of them identifies as lesbian.” The two women find themselves in this peculiar situation, which become an ongoing tension in their relationship.

The play was originally done as a commission for Ohio State University, and was written specifically for the actors. “I wrote the play three or four years ago. I directed it at that time with some actors in Toronto and we did a tour.”

The same cast toured the play to South Carolina, Montreal, Ottawa and New York. Soon, MacIvor got calls from Washington and Nova Scotia to direct that same play, only with different actors. “I never really thought of doing it with other people, so I went down, and I did the show with different actors, and I thought, oh, this is very interesting. I didn’t know that [my play] would translate to other actors, because I kind of make it for [the original] actors.”

“So this is now my fourth time directing with different cast, different designers.  It’s been really interesting for me because it started off as something I thought was a very specific thing…and it’s grown into being something quite different.”

“In a lot of ways, this play is about labeling,” MacIvor points out. “Why we label, why we feel like we have to label things, like why does someone have to be a lesbian, or gay man, or whatever, you know? We’re so into labels, hyphenating things. Why can’t we just be people? It does ask that question.” Thankfully, there will be humour that will pull you through these pondering questions.”It’s pretty whimsical in some ways in the play, so it’s got a lightness about it, even though it…asks some serious questions, it’s quite light. It’s funny. It has its humour about these questions.”

With a very specific text set to very specific lighting and sound design, fans may not really be able to tell the difference in the cross continental versions. “What changes in this mix, is the different designers and the actors, who are different, bringing themselves into it, altering things. It probably looks the same, but feels different.”

A Beautiful View is one of the five published in MacIvor’s Governer General’s Award-winning collection, I Still Love You. It runs December 4–13 at Performance Works on Granville Island and December 16–19 at the Shadbolt Centre for the Arts in Burnaby at 8pm. For more information, got to rubyslippers.ca.

It’s that time of year again: the bells are ringing, the lights are up, there’s more than a nip in the air and Vancouverites are eagerly awaiting the first snowfall of the season.  But there’s no shortage of snow onstage.

Our yuletide theatrical samplings from the Arts Club include the three-year revival of It’s A Wonderful Life, a play based directly on the 1946 Frank Capra film onstage on Granville Island until January 2.

Their holiday musical White Christmas, another show based directly on the movie of the same name, runs concurrently just up the street at the Stanley Industrial Alliance Stage until December 27.

It’s A Wonderful Life is the story of George Bailey and what happens when an angel shows him what life would be like had he never existed.  It features many established locals like Bob Frazer as George Bailey, Bernard Cuffling as Clarence the Angel, and a slew of other fine actors, including UBC alumna Sasa Brown.

But of course, it wouldn’t be a family-friendly show without a some kids to round out the cast.  Dean Paul Gibson’s direction really tried to incorporate the classic black-and-white film footage with real life people onstage creating a kind of visual echo.

The production was well done, but it is the story that keeps people coming back.  Despite a slow start, even the grumpiest of audience members felt a twinge of glee when George came back in the final scene.

White Christmas follows Broadway stars Wallace and Davis to Pinetree, Vermont where they put on a Christmas show at a local inn to help out an old army friend.

Despite the movie being over 50-years-old, this musical didn’t hit Broadway until 2008, where it flopped.  Arts Club is clearly having much greater success, with 45 shows sold out.  White Christmas is packed with 21 of Irving Berlin’s finest, including the rousing Act II opener “I Love A Piano” with some high-energy tap dancing choreographed by Valerie Easton (something every show could use more of) and the seasonal hit carol “White Christmas” that got the entire audience singing.

Director Bill Millerd managed to rope in the talent of locals Sara-Jeanne Hosie as Betty Haynes and Todd Talbot as Phil Davis, as well as eastern import Monique Lund as Judy Haynes, and Broadway veteran Jeffrey Victor as Bob Wallace.  It also features local Keri Minty, and another Broadway vet Kristie Marsden who has been placed in the hard (often, harder) working ensemble of 12.

Sure, the dialogue is hokey, and the plot is rather thin, but it is a nice change of pace to get to sit there and turn off your brain and simply marvel in the spectacle of the fine singing and dancing and costumes of this show.

One can’t help but notice a theme here: two shows produced by the same company simultaneously.  Both based on 50-plus-year-old movies.  Both set in the 1940s and 50s.  Both revolving around the holiday season.  Both with an abundance of fake snow.

I think, deep down, everyone feels the desire to connect with a simpler, wholesome time before computers, cell phones and carbon taxes. These two nostalgic gems are ingrained in modern culture, especially as the Christmas season roles around.

Though dated, and while there is no substitute for the black-and-white originals, a fire and a cup of hot cocoa, the stage versions of these stories allow viewers to experience the energy and the magic of the theatre, something no film could ever recreate.

So if you are looking for some good, wholesome entertainment to put you in the Christmas spirit, the Arts Club has two shows that will give you the works: caroling, mirth and fake snow.

Vancouver is the largest metropolitan area in Western Canada, and it is surrounded year round by breathtaking views of mountains, oceans, and green architecture. In addition, aside from the “for and against” comments on the Olympics, we are still going to have a ludicrous week of parties all around this multi-cultural city.

However, like any major city, we have our share of problems. Here are some facts that you cannot avoid: Between 1994 and 2006 the number of homeless people in Vancouver increased by 235 per cent. A report titled “Housing and Support for Adults with Severe Addictions and/or Mental Illness in British Columbia,” commissioned by the BC Health Ministry, estimates 8000 to 15,500 adults in the province with severe addictions or mental illness are homeless and almost 40,000 are inadequately housed.

So where do we go from here? It obvious that complaining about our citywide problem is not the answer.  There needs to be more of an attempt to come up with solutions.  One man, along with a team of upstanding individuals, is our best bet.  His name is David Diamond, and he has created the forum theatre-based production, After Homelessness.

Forum theatre was developed by the innovative and influential Augusto Boal as part of what he calls his “Theatre of the Oppressed.”  David Diamond uses the elements of this and creates theatre that can address problems and encourage participants to engage in coming up with safe, realistic solutions.

In Diamond’s words “The theatre can take statistics and transform them into personal stories; the theatre can be a true voice of people who are struggling with various aspects of the homelessness issue; the theatre can open up the irony of the creation of ‘the other’ in a world where in fact there is only ‘us’ and in doing so, re-personalize ‘the other’.”

After viewing Headlines Theatre’s performance on November 28, I can honestly admit that no one is doing what this production is doing. With a cast that has either experienced some, or all of the issues of homelessness, addiction and mental illness, the audience is given the gift of a genuine production.

Forum theatre encourages the audience to yell, “STOP!” and to enter the performance space, and along with the actors, try to create a safe alternative to the previous scene. The performance is rather quick; it is the inquiry afterwards that takes up most of the time.

For more information on the production, visit http://www.headlinestheatre.com/present_work/after_homelessness/index.htm

Vancouver is the fourth and final city, after Toronto, Montréal and Ottawa, to host a Wrecking Ball event this year, transforming current politics and headlines into topical theatre by acclaimed playwrights. While Wrecking Ball has a long tradition in Toronto, this is only its second year as a national even.

This year’s Vancouver Wrecking Ball commissioned four theatre pieces and three short videos to deal with the question: What would a world without art be like? The aim was to protest the BC arts cuts. Writers had just a few days for casting and only a few hours for rehearsing.

The tone of the night was set by host Denis Simpson’s incessant jokes and puns, and by the Carnival Band’s circus-like presence on stage. As Denis Simpson handed out cookies in the shape of Premier Gordon Campbell’s head to prominent guests, Catherine Shaw, founder of Studio 58, smashed her cookie on the podium, and a wave of hollers, applause and laughter immediately surged from the crowd. In fact, the audience remained boisterous throughout the whole night—but the performers’ grey dress code made me wonder how does something so serious as the importance of art in our lives becomes a series of laughable jokes.

Most of the pieces dealt with the theme through humour and farce, as was best exemplified by Jeff Gladstone’s piece “Special Presentation by Ms Dwendolyn Fung Ding.” Ms Fung Ding, played by Tara Travis, is about to tell the audience how to make art without funding when she mysteriously disappears. Detective Sally Bunk, played by Tallulah Winkelman, is given back a bit of “Fung Ding” in the form of a hand before she and the bouffon-coroner, played by Bruce Horak, announce the death of Ms Fung Ding. The over-the-top camp of the script highlighted both the ridiculousness of the funding cuts and the high-strung reactions of the local arts community.

Leacock Medal for Humour winner Mark Leiren–Young’s piece “Arts Puppies” portrayed Kevin Krueger, Minister of Tourism, Culture and Arts, speaking to the audience in defence of the funding cuts. Through clever witticisms he introduced some sticky issues, including the ethics behind using revenue from gambling to fund artist organizations and the provincial government’s gross investment in the 2010 Olympics. It was especially hilarious when he claimed that money put into the arts takes money away from health care in such a way that the money put into museums comes from widows and orphans, money put towards music is taken away from puppies, and worst of all, money put towards theatre takes a crutch away from real-life Tiny Tims.

Throughout the night it was evident that the problem of decreasing governmental support for the arts is not clear-cut. A sign was held up in the middle of the show that read: My family lives off the arts. In a BC arts cuts PSA video, a pregnant actress says she wants her unborn child to have all the opportunities she had, while an actor expresses his concern for his son.

Yet art is not important solely because one is a parent. By appealing to the emotions of the public, artists resort to a sentimentalism that sidesteps the important question of why art is valuable. It is a difficult question to answer and in the absence of a clear and concise definition it becomes easier to resort to humour and trite sentimentalism, which can set a low standard for artists.

One of the few pieces that came close to addressing the real importance of art was written by Carmen Aguirre titled “The Duende Is Here.” Dressed in a blue mechanic’s jumpsuit, a stirring monologue was is delivered by a reincarnated Federico Garcia Lorca, a Spanish playwright killed in the 1930s by Franco’s fascist government. The text describes something called duende—Spanish for elf—which is a metaphor for the indescribable and indispensable quality of art. Lorca describes it coming from the ground, from the roots, from the soles of your feet. And this is something no philosopher can explain. Nor can any psychologist or scientist give us the insight into the human condition that art can. This is where the true value of art lies and what gives art its inherently political force.

The event brought a lot of like-minded people together and helped Vancouver artists to identify the community they belong to and are fighting for. However, the community’s aim must go beyond identifying itself and towards appealing to the wider public. In order for this to be done successfully a strong attempt must be made to articulate the vitality of art to non-artists. A wrecking ball is made to break walls, not go around them.

Check out stopbcartscuts.ca, allianceforarts.com or Creativity Counts for more information on the cuts and what local artists are doing in response to the funding cuts.

Studio 58’s production of ye olde Bard’s The Winter’s Tale is a brilliant combination of comedy and tragedy. In this production, the two opposite worlds of Sicilia and Bohemia are staged as Russia during the Cold War and Canada 16 years later in a very hippy 1975.

King Leontes (played by Mike Wasko) embodies jealousy and rage, when he suspects his wife Hermione (played by Melissa Dionisio) of being unfaithful. The story builds, as the Cold War did, on paranoia, fear and suspicion—and despite the objection of Leontes’ advisors, he takes drastic action towards his wife.

“There are Shakespeare’s characters in all of us” said Benjamin Elliot, reflecting on his own character, Atolycus, who we meet at the beginning of the second act. Atolycus is portrayed as a ukelele-playing con man who unknowingly helps bring about a resolution to Leontes problems, begun in Sicilia 16 years prior.

The second act is a breath of fresh air. The first act’s heavy dialogue and dense plot make way for comedy and non-stop laughter. I would like to note that Benjamin Elliot owes me a button, because I actually busted my jacket in hysterics.

Director Anita Rochon presents an ingenuous interpretation and a beautiful show. The transitions from scene to scene are captivating and include organic sound effects involving the entire cast, movement into the audience and a traditional Russian lullaby. The set, designed by Christopher David Guathier, was flexible enough to represent both locations  and also introduce interesting angles and perspectives. The strongest location on Gauthier’s stage is not center, which gave the actors a whole new arena to play in. Gauthier’s collaboration with the director and costume designer are evident is the flawless blending of colour schemes and the flow of seasons throughout the piece.

In the simplest form of criticism, would I see the show again? Yes, definitely.

The only thing I felt the show lacked was “bear.” The famous Shakespeare direction “Exit, pursued by a bear” comes to mind when thinking of The Winter’s Tale, and everyone wonders whether Shakespeare released a live bear on stage or had a man in costume run across the stage. I had a bubbling build-up in anticipation of how the bear would be portrayed and there was “bearly” a chance to see him. The build-up left me with a fever—and the only solution is more bear!

The Winter’s Tale runs until December 13 at Studio 58. Tickets run from $11 to $20.50, depending on the day of the week.

“Anyone claiming that I am not a frog would be a dirty liar. I would smash such a person to bits!” says Frog (played by Alessandro Juliani), the giant, erudite amphibian who appears in the home of isolated taxman Katagiri (played by Kevan Ohtsji) in Superfrog Saves Tokyo. Frog is there to enlist Katagiri’s help—a furious, train-sized worm has been awoken by the Kobe earthquake, and threatens to level most of Tokyo unless Katagiri can help Frog defeat him in battle.

It’s one of the two short stories from Haruki Murakami’s after the quake that have been adapted by Frank Galati and are being performed by Pi Theatre and Rumble Productions. The original collection, ostensibly related to the 1995 Kobe earthquake, spans topics of the Japanese character, dealing heavily with alienation.

Galati’s effortless adaptation interweaves Superfrog Saves Tokyo directly with Honey Pie, which follows the story of Junpei, Sayoko (played by Manami Hara) and Takatsuki (played by Kevan Ohtsji yet again) from college to their mid-30s.

The trifecta of best friends become entwined in a love triangle bizarre enough to be immortalized by an 80’s British electronica band. How does that connect with a story about magical giants battling for the fate of a city? Quite well, actually; they’re defined more by alienation, longing and the need to make connections than by trysts or battling sewer-bound monsters. The imaginative stories ride seamlessly through some fun and laughs, as well as truly touching, sometimes sad moments.

That said, the Pi/Rumble production does suffer a little bit for being a little too faithful to its source. Murakami’s iconic style of prose was left largely intact, presumably in an attempt to avoid defacing it. But his writing is narration-heavy, requiring the actors to take turns as the narrator, leading to spots of awkwardness.

The actors put on stellar performances in spite of these slow bits, swinging rapidly between their double-cast characters. Kevan Ohtsji does so well moving between the lonely, pitiable, but stoic Katagiri and the charming, extraverted Takatsuki it’s easy to forget they’re being portrayed by the same actor.

Likewise, Alessandro Juliani never embodies a meticulous dandy in a neat purple suit, but morphs flawlessly into the sophisticated Frog. No men in animal costumes here—just a compelling performance paired with sophisticated lighting and sound.

The sound, lighting and set design by Yota Kobayashi, Itai Erdal and Yvan Morissette, respectively,  are the true stars of the show. The music is minimal but modern, with sounds bringing to mind cell phones and lonely rides on subways. And the set seems spare and traditional at first, but when paired with moving props and the masterful lighting proves incredibly adaptable to a wide range of environments.

The show is a must-see for anyone feeling that need to reach out, looking for a connection with some one. And fans of Murakami will feel like they’re experiencing his work for the first time while watching after the quake. Which is quite the treat, indeed.
after the quake runs to December 5 at Studio 16. Show times are at 8pm, with 2pm matinees on November 29 and December 5.

The eerie, dramatic opening of Demon Voice, the show currently on at Performance Works, quickly sets the tone for an uncomfortable hour and a half to follow.

The story revolves around six interlinking characters, each struggling with relationships and the consequences of intimacy. With characters including a girl in Hell with a face filled with scars, a husband and wife who are no longer intimate, and an ex-con struggling to find a sexual identity after life behind bars, this play is not for the light-hearted.

Shawn Macdonald, the Vancouver-based playwright who penned Demon Voice, began writing the play as a situational comedy focusing on the aftermath of a one-night stand.  During the writing process, the play evolved into a dark meditation on the challenging aspects of intimate relationships.

Perhaps MacDonald, however, should have remained true to his original intentions, as the serious subject matter and dialogue explored in this play at times feel contrived and forced. Take the format of Love Actually, add gore and dramatic lighting, and what do you get?  Something that feels oddly like a soap opera, complete with plot twist, turns and surprises.

Issues with the premise of the play aside, performances, staging, costumes and set are exceptionally polished and refreshing. Local actors Patrick Keating (Darryl), Kevin K. James (Mike) and Gwynyth Walsh (Anna) give performances that humanize the sometimes far-fetched dialogue. Keating, in particular, takes on the role of crystal methamphetamine addict living on the Downtown Eastside with such great honesty it is easy to forget he is acting.

The set created by David Roberts is exceptionally well-tailored to the various storylines of the play, as it encases several areas, each with a different background screen, ranging from an image from a biology textbook to an architectural floor plan of a restaurant.  The industrial feel of the set accurately reflects the tone of the play, allowing each scene to play out with ease.

Although the multiple story lines help the time pass quickly, there is a sense of relief when the lights come on, and the intensity of the subject matter dissipates. The play showcases some excellent performances and staging,  but flaws in the script leave it lacking.

Demon Voice runs until November 28 at Performance Works on Granville Island.

After 34 years of professional acting, directing and play writing, Nicola Cavendish returns to UBC, her alma mater, to direct The Laramie Project—a play she believes Vancouver needs. On a rainy Saturday, after a tech run and just days before opening night, she sits in the lobby of the Frederick Wood theatre, exhausted, eating a bowl of microwaved soup and explaining, between mouthfuls, her hope for the play.

“I want the audience to be compassionate,” she says. ” I want them to understand because this is a play about homosexuality. The prime rule of theatre is to shake people up from their complacency, to make people look at something dark that exists. This play exists on the streets of Vancouver. In Stanley Park we had Aaron Webster who was beaten to death just like Matthew Shepard. Three weeks ago in Toronto, a young gay man was beaten to death right in downtown Toronto. And Vancouver has its fair share of gay bashing, so we have to shake people up who want to look the other way.”

The Laramie Project does just that. On October 6, 1998, Matthew Shepard, a gay University of Wyoming student, was lured into a car, robbed, beaten, tortured and tied to a fence on the outskirts of Laramie, Wyoming. After 18 hours, he was found in a coma and put on life support. He died six days later.

The event was a watershed moment for gay rights; media coverage was salacious, brutal and brisk, generalizing the residents as hicks and rednecks. The subtext was loud and clear: What do you expect in a place like this?

The Tectonic Theatre Project, headed by Moises Kaufman, set off to Laramie to do the exact opposite. From hundreds of interviews with Laramie residents over the span of a year and half, Kaufman pieced together the resulting play, The Laramie Project. It pieces together the ethos of the town, painting finely tuned portraits of the residents using their verbatim quotes.

We meet the slow-talking cowboy types we’ve come to expect. But one of them is so good-natured we like him instantly, and the other is gay and proclaims, “Don’t fuck with a Wyoming queer ‘cos they’ll kick you in the ass.” Expectations are upended. We meet a self-described “Islamic feminist” and an emergency worker, played beautifully by Barbara Kozicki. She contracts HIV while tending to Matthew Shepard because of shoddy gloves. A fun-loving, straight-talking waitress is handled with such precision by Claire Hesselgrave that the small-town, redneck stereotype all but shatters.

The play that emerges is warm, compassionate and honest. It’s a work of theatrical journalism that is as much about Matthew Shepherd and the residents of Laramie as it is about that giant of philosophical questions: What does it mean to be human?

Evil and our capacity for it is embodied in the wooden fence (made from pine sawbuck, the same wood as the original fence to which Shepard was tied) that sits prominently on the stage and is the mainstay of Ronald Fedoruk’s set design. Like the memory of Matthew Shepard, it never goes away, and characters must move around it, lifting a slab to step over it, putting it back up, using it as a makeshift bar.

As a shy theatre student Jedediah Schults, played spectacularly by Eric Freilich, explains, “Now, after Matthew, I would say that Laramie is a town defined by an accident, a crime. We’ve become Waco, we’ve become Jasper. We’re a noun, a definition, a sign. We may be able to get rid of that, but it’ll sure take a while.”

Nicola Cavendish’s direction moves the play along swiftly, hitting all the right notes and never getting mired in one character for too long. As the play ends, the word ‘hope’ projected onto a backdrop of a night sky filled with stars. Hope and love is the answer, according to Cavendish.

“It sounds simple because it’s a complicated world,” she says, “but when you push the papers off the desk and you open the window and you breathe in some air in what is a tense or tight, stressful time, I think the one thing that flies in the window and sits on your shoulder is love. The bluebird of love, the bluebird of contentment, of happiness, the bluebird of satisfaction. All you need is love, you know.”

The Laramie Project is playing from November 19-28 at 7:30pm  at Frederic Wood Theatre, UBC.