July-August: Mending the Nets

For those of us not involved in the Fringe, Bard on the Beach, Caravan, or (with rare exceptions) the film industry, summer tends to be pretty quiet in Vancouver. It's like winter in the old days, when farmers fixed their horses' harnesses and fishers mended their nets.

I mainly worked away on long-term projects, including my translation of Rébecca Déraspe's Gametes for Ruby Slippers Theatre.

I was also on the jury for Branscombe House, an underappreciated Richmond residency, for artists from any country and any discipline, that allows them to live rent-free in a historic house in the Greater Vancouver Area for eleven months (these days, that has to be worth at least $25 grand). There were some strong proposals from around the world – and at least one that it cracked my heart to turn down – but I was pleased to see it go to a theatre artist for the first time... especially a local one who was about to be another victim of renoviction and thought she might have to leave BC altogether. (Note to Vancouver: if you keep driving your most creative people further and further away, I suspect it will not end well for you.) And I am pleased to see the seriously underrated City of Richmond again take the lead in finding innovative ways to make things better for artists. For example. if you missed this post about new, unbelievably cheap artist live/work housing, please at least get on the waiting list... after you've blinked away the tears, of course...

Tadoussac, and the Beauty of Hard Conversations

The Glassco Translation Residency, popularly known as "Tadoussac", is an engine of cultural exchange like no other. I've had the great good fortune to participate in it three times. This year I want to zero in on a single remarkable discussion.

It was maybe two-thirds of the way through our ten-day retreat at the Glassco family's beautiful summer home in Tadoussac, Quebec. Playwright-translator teams were gathered round the cosy fireplace for our 5-à-7... the nightly pre-dinner confab where we discussed our specific projects, as well as the larger questions of cross-cultural work, over a bottle or two of good French wine (which is cheaper and more available in Quebec than anywhere else in Canada). With my beloved collaborator, the gifted Rébecca Déraspe, I was about to launch into a little presentation of our translation-in-progress of her vivacious and audacious feminist comedy, Gametes. I took a deep breath.

At that very moment, one of our fellow residents spoke up (in the language we had all been using pretty much non-stop for the entire residency thus far... French). "You know, it's really admirable that all of the anglophones in this group are speaking French all the time, but when it comes to talking about our artistic work, surely we should be able to express ourselves in the language in which we're most comfortable." (I'm translating, and almost certainly paraphrasing: the near-flawless voice-recorder once housed in my brain has been, I fear, the second casualty of early menopause.)

My reaction to this very reasonable and kindly-meant comment? A sort of deer-in-the-headlights freeze, mixed with an oddly familiar red rush of emotion. Suddenly, after some years of being considered reasonably proficient in my adopted language, I once again felt like the unacceptable Other. When you, as a non-native speaker, are invited to talk in "your own" language – or when the person with whom you're speaking makes the decision for you, without asking, by simply switching into your native tongue – you experience it as something worse than a mere inability to "pass" (a politically dubious goal I gave up on years ago). While I'm sure this is seldom the speaker's intention, it almost invariably feels like a verdict that you're not good enough. Too unpleasant to listen to, too incompetent to wait for. Obviously struggling to communicate. A failure. In other words, I was feeling exactly the thing that prevents most English-Canadians from ever, ever speaking the French they picked up in school. It's called shame.

Just for context: my French is the product of a unilingual small-town kid's immersion in a French-speaking Toronto high school with a very international teaching staff, curriculum, and student body. Add to this a lifetime of slowly, painfully acquiring something my education never gave me: a working knowledge of Canadian French. I'm not particularly proud of my French, but I'm extremely grateful for it. There's a difference.

Back to our evening circle. I was about to stammer out some reasons why I wanted to discuss my work in French – while trying not to sound defensive or hurt – when something wonderful happened. Everyone else spoke up instead. In French.

One colleague said simply: "You know what? I'm an anglo. I live in Toronto now. I have a strong accent, and I used to be very self-conscious about that... but I'm also a Montrealer, and a Quebecker, born and raised. And I'm bilingual. And this is my language, too. And I'm going to speak it."

One of the Francophones, meanwhile, talked about how she had been involved in multiple artistic residencies and environments that were supposedly bilingual, but wherein everyone defaulted to English within a few short days. "This is the first so-called bilingual residency I've been in where the working language is French, where the anglophones and allophones consistently make the effort to express themselves in French... and personally, I find it very moving," she said. "Ça me touche." 

"Well yes," said the original speaker – who is a wonderful artist and a supportive colleague and friend. "I was just trying to make things easier for everybody. And I'm just... surprised, that you [English-speakers and allophones] are all sticking with it. In all my years of working in the theatre, I've never seen anything like it."

We all agreed. And carried on. In French.

This was, for many reasons, an extraordinary conversation to be having in Quebec, where language and culture have long been inseparable from politics and power (and from a bitter and still-recent history when rich bosses all spoke English... while their impoverished workers spoke French). It was a conversation I could not have imagined taking place twelve years ago, when I first came to Tadoussac and was taught so much about Quebec language, culture, and politics by the great Linda Gaboriau. It was a conversation that made me proud of us all – Francophone, anglophone, and allophone – for being open to each other, really speaking, really listening, really willing to forgive each other's missteps and misfires on the way to a deeper understanding. It is, IMHO, why we truly need Tadoussac.

June: Salesman in China

In June, actor, director, playwright, and Artistic Director (and my husband) Jovanni Sy and I travelled to Beijing to research our first major collaboration, Salesman in China, accompanied by our dramaturg, Kathleen Flaherty of PTC. It was a phenomenally productive trip: we saw a dress rehearsal for perhaps the most famous Chinese play of the 20th century as well as a sold-out production of possibly the most popular Chinese play of the 21st century.. We talked to emerging and established stars of a vibrant and impassioned theatre community. We haunted the museum of a large classical theatre and picked up many pounds of books. And despite a packed schedule, we eked out a little time to marvel at the Forbidden City... and eat street food fit for kings.

We were also able to interview two of the surviving cast members from Arthur Miller's seminal 1983 Beijing People's Art Theatre production of Death of a Salesman, both of whom were humble, dedicated, generous men who described that show as one of the greatest experiences of their lives.

This trip was crucial to our research for Salesman in China, and excited us immensely about the path we are on with this project. And while we have already benefitted from the support of the City of Richmond, PTC Associates, and the Canada Council for the Arts, we could not have accomplished 1/10th of what we did in a mere 6 days without the extraordinary help of Claire Conceison, who managed (thanks to her status in China as a pre-eminent scholar of modern Chinese theatre... and thanks to her mastery of WeChat) to introduce us to some of the most interesting artists in China without leaving her home in Boston!

April-May 2017: "The Beauty of the World"

The highlights in brief:

• I am now the Playwright-in-Residence at the Gateway Theatre, thanks to the generous support of the Arts Council of the City of Richmond.

• I also began my three-year commitment to the Playwrights Theatre Centre's Associates programme... or more accurately, we all began our three-year commitment to each other. I am already at work on the initial research for our project, Salesman in China, with my co-writer Jovanni Sy and our extremely generous dramaturg Kathleen Flaherty. This has so far included a lightning-fast trip to Boston, an upcoming one to Toronto, and a June trip to Beijing... all of which I will be blogging about when I get back in July.

• Pi Theatre had a jam-packed and enthusiastically-received reading of The Paradise Arms (my translation of Olivier Sylvestre's Governor-General's Award-nominated play, La Beauté du monde), which was developed with the help of Playwrights Workshop Montreal's Glassco Translation Residency in Tadoussac.

Director Keltie Brown Forsyth introduces the dream cast of Pi Theatre's public reading of The Paradise Arms at The Test Kitchen in Vancouver, BC, on May 18, 2017. L-R: Sarah Roa, Todd Thomson, France Perras, Nathan Barrett, and Nneka Croal. Hidden behind the director: Conor Wylie. Photo by Richard Wolfe.

• Schoolhouse continues to be a favourite with schools and theatres across Canada, having racked up dozens of productions since 2006. I love it that so many young people are tackling this challenging story, and was delighted to learn that Edmonton's MCS Theatre was nominated for 14 Cappie Awards for their recent production. I wish them all the luck at the ceremony on June 11.

* The cast of Théâtre la Seizième's Bonjour, là, Bonjour has been nominated for a Jessie Award (for Best Ensemble) as has our director Gilles Poulin-Denis. My director Sarah Rodgers and cast-mate Sarah May Redmond were also nominated, for And Bella Sang With Us. The Jessies, which honour the best of Vancouver theatre, will be handed out on June 26.

L-R: Sarah Roa, Nneka Croal, Nathan Barrett, playwright Olivier's Sylvestre, and Conor Wylie, The Paradise Arms, May 18, 2017. Photo by Richard Wolfe.

One final note about The Paradise Arms. It was my great joy to introduce Olivier, as well as his work, to Vancouver this month (and I'm so happy that they really seemed to really hit it off!) Olivier's original title, La Beauté du monde, literally translates as "the beauty of the world", a French expression immortalized in a Diane Dufresne song that warns the human race not to destroy it. In Olivier's autobiographical yet highly theatrical story, the title is both ironic and aspirational: imagine a modern young man's journal of existential crisis thrown in a Vitamix with the works of Arcade Fire, Rimbaud, and the Coen Brothers. In this play, we are imprisoned with the hero – also named Olivier – in a strange, dark basement, groping uncertainly towards the light. That resonates deeply with me right now... as does Olivier's eventual embrace of life and the possibility of love,  in defiance of all that frightens and divides us.

February-March 2017: A Blur Called Tremblay

Haven't updated in a while. That might have something to do with the all-consuming terror and exhilaration of rehearsing and performing for the first time in my second language... in a dialect I've never spoken before. During this time:

• In Ottawa, Ontario, GCTC – now led by my treasured collaborator, Eric Coates – announced that they will premier my translation of Rébecca Déraspe's You Are Happy next fall, with acclaimed Adrienne Wong directing.
• Also in Ottawa, the Kanata Theatre – my brother's favourite – produced Schoolhouse.
• Having already clocked 550+ performances, Théâtre Motus took Baobab to New York's Lincoln Centre. This month, they're at MTYP (Manitoba Theatre for Young People) in my birthplace, Winnipeg.
• OperaUpClose continued to tour Ulla's Odyssey around the UK, including the artsdepot.
• I joined the newly-formed steering committee for the Women's Caucus of the Playwrights' Guild of Canada.
• The groundbreaking queer civil rights history When We Rise aired on ABC. I had a minuscule but intense scene with beloved TV star Michael K. Williams. "Omar coming."
• I workshopped Veronique West's intriguing and passionate play, State of War, ahead of its upcoming April 9 reading at the Arts Club (They were hoping to find a Polish-speaking actress, but for now, they're stuck with me giving it my best shot. Just when I think I've heard all the world's consonants before... along comes Polish.)
• And, yes, I had the great fortune of appearing in Gilles Poulin-Denis' stunning, sold-out production of Michel Tremblay's masterpiece, Bonjour, là, bonjour, for Vancouver's Théâtre la Seizième. It took every ounce of my mental and physical abilities just to sort of keep up with the cast of 7 extraordinary francophones in this barnburner of a play... but it was worth it. I'll be posting in more details about that extraordinary experience next week.

That's all for my recent news. For upcoming work, please check here.



 

Playwrights Theatre Centre: The Associates

It's a shite day to announce anything... but that's exactly why I am so thankful that I will be working alongside these outstanding artists over the next three years, during which I will do my utmost best to create work that matters. I am also relieved as hell to be collaborating – at long last – with my ally, my friend, my sounding board, and the one artist who understands me the most. It's the right project, at the right time, and now with the right support. Holy crap, I have never been more motivated to make it count.

The Playwrights Theatre Centre Associates will be exploring large-scale projects over the next three years. Jovanni and I will be collaborating on Salesman in China, inspired by Arthur Miller and Ying Ruocheng's seminal 1983 production of Death of a Salesman at the Beijing People's Art Theatre.

And Bella Sang With Us rides again!

I was very glad to have another kick at Sally Stubbs' Vancouver Fringe hit And Bella Sang With Us – the story of Minnie Miller and Lurancy Harris, the first policewomen in Canada – thanks to the Firehall Arts Centre. Particularly enjoyed meeting these modern-day police officers who work the same beat that my character did: The Downtown East Side. Plus ça change...

Filming The Humanity Bureau with Nicolas Cage

Apparently, I'm not allowed to say much about this film, except that I was in it (in a small but satisfying role) and that everyone was really lovely, including Nicolas Cage: filming with him, I would have to say, was a career highlight. I hope I acquitted myself well... at least I managed not to burble about Adaptation and Leaving Las Vegas and Raising Arizona (although, personally, if I had given even one performance that good at any time in my life, I could die a happy Canadian). The Humanity Bureau is due out next year.

When We Rise

The trailer for the Gus Van Sant/Dustin Lance Black mini-series about the queer civil rights movement has dropped, and it's stunning. Even more shock-inducing than its exquisite timing is the fact that it's being produced by ABC/Disney. Which brings me to my left elbow.

Screen acting has never been my mainstay, for whatever reason. However, my left elbow, long a bit player on the Hollywood scene, is having a bit of a moment. It was first seen onscreen in David Cronenberg's M. Butterfly:

My left elbow's screen début.

Now it's going to be featured (along with the rest of me) in at least sixty seconds of this groundbreaking, star-studded masterpiece. I can't talk about which sixty seconds, because I'm under a terrifying 5-page confidentiality contract (and here I'm not exaggerating) with Disney. Suffice it to say that fans of The Wire are going to want to cuddle up to my left elbow... and even more so, my left hand.

In the midst of my post-election Trumpence despair, for the USA and for the future of the world, I take comfort in the certain knowledge that my left elbow is going to make a difference... or at least, that it's going to take a stand, by bearing witness to the ongoing struggle for justice for the American LGBTQ+ community... whose hard-won gains are now being threatened, like those of so many others, by people who never accepted their integration into the mainstream of society, and who merely bided their time to kick them back into the closet/across the border/to the back of the bus. From the script I read and the images I've seen, it's clear that this story bears witness to the free and courageous and accepting and hopeful America that so many of us used to believe in. That we hope will rise again.

So, way to go, Left Elbow. The rest of me'd better get busy, because it now has a lot to live up to.

Bella is back!

After being voted Pick of the Fringe, And Bella Sang With Us – Sally Stubbs' buddy-cop tale of Canada's first policewomen – is hitting the Firehall Arts Centre January 4th-14th. I'll be happy to regreet Constables Miller and Harris, and an ace team led by director Sarah Rodgers. Some of our wonderful company has had to answer the call of previous commitments... so welcome aboard, Beatrice Zeilinger, Agnes Tong, Patrick Courtin, and SM Breanne Harmon!

"H__l" and "B_____d", or, When Good People Use Bad Language

A Christian school in Alberta recently contacted me to ask if they could cut certain words from their upcoming production of my play Schoolhouse, "simply to adhere to what our community prefers." I was pretty startled by this, as this play has been done in some of the most conservative communities in Canada without incident. Furthermore – although I've fought hard my whole life to reach out to those who think differently than I do – at the time when they wrote to me, the campaign (and eventual victory) of Donald Trump had made me viscerally alarmed for the future of social justice and artistic liberty in my own society. And, perhaps unfairly, I was mentally equating the kinds of people who would complain about the word "bastards" in a play set in rural 1938, with Trump supporters. In other words – to put it mildly – I was NOT in the mood.

On the other hand, this is exactly the kind of community where I most want the story of Schoolhouse to be told. And they were ethical enough to come to me rather than just trying to make their changes in secret. Moreover, when asking if they could substitute "buggers" for "bastards", they also said: "We are absolutely open to other alternatives if there are some." (At which I thought: my preferred "alternative" is for you to just do the darn play.) So, I gave them a choice. They could either bowdlerize the offending language and indicate that they had done so in the programme… or else post a language warning, as well as the following letter. I strongly urged them toward the latter.

Hello, and welcome to Schoolhouse! I'm the playwright. From about 2002-2004, I read books, diaries, and archives, and interviewed the people of Cavan County about their experiences as students and teachers in one-room schools. This play is very closely based on those real people and their stories. The first production was, I'm honoured to say, a huge success. Since its premiere in 2006, Schoolhouse has been performed hundreds of times and seen by upwards of 25,000 people in schools, colleges, and theatres across Canada and the USA.

I have been told that some folks in your community will be bothered about the (few, isolated) uses of "h__l" and "b____d" in this play. I was kind of surprised by this, as there have never been any objections to the language in this play (including from several Christian academies): so rather than changing it, I thought I'd talk to you about why it is there.

1) Authenticity. Perhaps the primary goal of most playwrights (other than not boring you) is to tell the truth, as best we know how. In my play, one character at a Christmas concert uses the H-word at an especially unfortunate time. Like most of the episodes of my play, that actually happened. The fact that the man's language and behaviour were completely inappropriate is exactly why this incident stuck with witnesses fifty years later! If I softened his language, it would not only be dishonest, but it would also destroy the point of this scene... which is about how other grown-ups deal with an adult who is behaving boorishly around children. The few rough words of the few rough characters are not there for shock value: rather, they very much reflect their personalities, their situation, and their rural community in 1938.

2) Values. The central theme of Schoolhouse is about values. How do we transmit values to our children? How much does the school shape the community, and how much does the community shape the school? Audiences across this country have seen themselves in this narrative. They have heard, in Ewart's most objectionable words, the language of his suffering. They have watched Evie moving from disdain for a rural community to an almost painful level of empathy. These characters' stories invite our compassion... and challenge our moral priorities.

3) Cultural context. The words "h_ll" and "b____d" are mainstream in modern Canadian life, including in the kinds of texts that are studied in high school, from literature to current events. They are found dozens of times in the King James Bible. Shakespeare uses the word "h_ll" 160 times, and "b____d" 109. These words occur on a daily basis on the radio, in the most conservative newspapers, on the Internet, on primetime TV: they barely rate PG-13 in a movie theatre. However, if you are bothered by their use in a school context, please see under (4), Teachable Moments.

4) Teachable Moments. This play has been embraced by conservative as well as progressive, religious as well as secular communities, because it treats their values, and its characters, with respect. That being said, you don't necessarily have to like or accept everything that happens onstage, whether it's child-murder in Macbeth, or farm-boys swearing... and now you will have an opportunity to talk with your children about why. Just because someone says something onstage – whether it's Evie or Ewart or President Trump – it doesn't mean it's okay to say it in your home.

Over and over again, studies have shown that the arts are good for young people: they teach self-esteem, discipline, teamwork, creative problem-solving. Theatre in particular strengthens our abilities for quick thinking and resourcefulness, for courage, for understanding. In order for young people to engage with the arts, and with living writers, it is important for them to discover that you can have empathy and even love for characters who act in ways of which you do not approve. I also believe – and here we may disagree – that it's important for young people to address the ideas of artistic freedom and artistic truth; and to encounter the idea that you can engage with, and learn from, a writer's vision of the world, even if you don't share it.

I do hope that this addresses some of your concerns. I take note that your school's web site upholds the common values of Equity, Accountability, Collaboration, and Integrity... and I can assure you that those are my values, too. Speaking of accountability: I take full and personal responsibility for every word you hear onstage tonight, so if you are still angry about what you hear, please contact me through my web site at www.leannabrodie.com . That's the price of my freedom of speech... which has never felt more precious than it feels in these times.

Thank you so much... and now, I hope you enjoy the show!

"Parallel" Lives

Just had one very exciting day on Isaac Ezban's upcoming thriller Parallel. You can tell a lot about people by how they treat the bit players on a shoot: film sets can be the most hierarchical and unpleasant places this side of hazing week at Queen's Engineering. This, on the other hand, was hands down the nicest crew I have ever worked with, from the transport guy to the DOP to the gun wrangler. As usual, that kind of attitude starts at the top: the warm and lovely Isaac greeted me with a sweet little air-kiss, and led a round of applause when I wrapped. The American star I worked with – I'm not sure if she's meant to be a surprise, so I won't mention her yet by name – was also gracious and lovely, and it was a treat to work so closely with someone of her caliber. Everything from costumes to FX was handled with so much meticulousness, creativity, and pride... I think we're in for a real treat in 2017!

The Tom Hendry Awards

The Stage West Pechet Family Comedy Award is Canada's most prestigious recognition for a new comic script, so Rébecca Déraspe and I were delighted that You Are Happy was among three national finalists. Since we weren't able to travel to Ontario for the ceremony, we wrote the following acceptance speech, and asked the organizers – the folks at the Playwrights Guild of Canada – to deliver it for us if we won. The prize went to Kristen Da Silva, but I thought you might get a kick out of reading our little scene anyway. Congratulations to Kristen and to all Tom Hendry Awards finalists and winners.

************************************************

READER 1: Je suis une actrice très gentille et talentueuse qui va lire le texte d’une auteure réfugiée dans son appartement montréalais. Alors par ma propre bouche, je vais me dire merci de la part de l’auteure : merci.

READER 2: Leanna says, Hi, everyone. Wish I could be there. I did this quick-and-dirty English translation of Rébecca's speech, and my very nice friend is reading it. So here we go.

READER 1: L’histoire commence en septembre 2012 au cœur du festival Dramaturgies en dialogue à la sortie de la lecture de ma pièce.

READER 2: "Translation is hard."

READER 1: Les joues rouges, galvanisée par les applaudissements, je regarde une magnifique dame au grand sourire s’approcher de moi.

READER 2: "When I first met Leanna, I was blown away by her beauty and intelligence."

READER 1: Avec son accent légèrement anglophone –

READER 2: "Her French is perfect."

READER 1: – elle me dit qu’elle a beaucoup aimé mon travail, mon humour et elle me tend sa carte d’affaire : elle veut lire d’autres de mes pièces.

READER 2: "Leanna is famous throughout Québec.... she's like the Céline Dion of translation. I begged her to translate my work. BEGGED her."

READER 1: Quelques jours plus tard, en tombant sur son adresse courriel juste avant de faire le lavage, je me suis rappelé de notre rencontre. Une chance que je n’ai pas lavé mon avenir.

READER 2: "I knew that working with her would change my life."

READER 1: Leanna Brodie a fait beaucoup pour moi.

READER 2: "And it did!"

READER 1: Elle a traduit Deux ans de votre vie [You Are Happy] avec un talent et une rigueur remarquable.

READER 2: "Her translation improves on my original in every possible way."

READER 1: Elle m’a fait découvrir Vancouver avec un enthousiasme qui me fait vouloir y retourner le plus souvent possible.

READER 2: "Translating humour is hard. You must honour the voice of the original writer while also respecting the comic rhythms of the new language. So it's nice to see comedy in translation getting some love."

READER 1: C’est elle qui a fait en sorte que mon travail soit connu de l’autre côté des frontières québécoises.

READER 2: " I hereby agree to give her all of the prize money. And a 50-50 split on royalties."

READER 1: C’est grâce à elle tout ça.

READER 2: Wait... Rébecca's giving me all the credit?

READER 1: Leanna Brodie, merci. Merci du fond du cœur.

READER 2: I might need to revise this translation.

READER 1: T’as vu, j’ai même pas fait de blague. Je suis une personne extrêmement sérieuse.

READER 2: Rebecca says, thanks very much for this great honour, and we're a good team. I think her writing is elegant and hilarious, with a rare combo of empathy and biting wit. (beat) But I'm still keeping the prize money.

You Are Happy, a fresh and sparkling three-hander which won the Prix BMO when it was produced by Les Biches Pensives at Montréal's Théâtre d'Aujourd'hui, is published by Playwrights Canada Press. It still awaits its English-language premiere.

Red Phone at the Vancouver Writer's Fest

Boca del Lupo is a much-admired Vancouver indie company that has, as my husband puts it, a real "can-do spirit". So I was delighted when Sherry Yoon asked me to contribute to Red Phone – Boca's new site-specific project about urgent conversations – though I didn't quite understand how it was all going to work. Now that I've been through the actual installation, I can fully appreciate her innovative concept and the way Sherry, Carey, and Jay have put it together. And I think it's absolutely great that they're working with playwrights to bring some sharp, focused content to this innovative form (at least, that was true of Marcus Youssef's segment when Boca mounted a first version last year. They've since developed the piece at the Banff Centre, and I look forward to work from Hiro Kanagawa and Shawn Macdonald this time around.)

If I sound a bit mysterious about what exactly is involved, it's because the element of surprise is part of the appeal. All I can say is, it's a singular experience, and it works.

The price is right ($5 some days, by donation on others, details and tickets here) and the performance is only 10 minutes long, so I hope you can get there. You might want to reserve, as spaces are very, very, VERY limited. It'll give you something to think about as you're strolling around Granville Island. And I'm tickled that we're part of the Vancouver Writers Fest: I hope to check out their other events, too, including a couple with my old schoolmate Soraya Peerbaye...

The Little Opera That Sailed Around The World.

Having immensely enjoyed our partnership at Tapestry Opera's unique breeding ground for new opera, the Composer-Librettist Laboratory (fondly known as the "Liblab"), composer Anthony Young and I were determined to work together again.

There were a few obstacles.

One: he's a busy composer and I'm a busy whatever the hell I am, and neither of us has the wherewithal to self-produce in this art form. I mean, Canadian opera singers – highly trained thoroughbreds that they are – don't even fall out of bed for less than a grand a week (as I discovered when producing Opera on the Rocks with a group of the most generous opera singers ever, a wonderful experience that was – for many reasons – completely unrepeatable).

Two: unless you are John Cage and Margaret frigging Atwood, virtually no one wants to take a chance on your opera.

Three: Anthony lives in New Zealand. I live in Canada.

Despite the odds, and thanks to the miracles of Dropbox and Skype, we collaborated on two new works in New Zealand, and developed Ulla's Odyssey – a new, full-length, family-friendly opera – through a delightful workshop production of a shortened version by Auckland's Opera Factory, and through the staunch support of Lynda Hill and Toronto's Theatre Direct. But then we hit a dead end. Nobody wanted to pull the trigger and programme our little show.

In order to create a new opera, you must find a company (in a classically-oriented art form) that is not afraid of new rep. You need to tantalize them with the appeal of your partnership and/or your specific project. Furthermore, it is imperative to approach them when you are at the exact right stage of development. Too early (unless you are an international star on whom people are willing to roll the dice) and they can't clearly see the potential of the piece; too late, and they feel artistically uninvolved because you have left them out of key creative decisions... no one in the arts likes to feel that they are simply there to cut you a cheque. You also need to consider the company's production cycle. We thought that an exciting opera for children would be a shoo-in, but the companies we approached either didn't truly value new work for young people, or had something else on the boards or in the pipeline that they were already committed to (and at the major companies, there is only ever one slot for child-friendly work). Meanwhile's the children's theatre companies didn't feel able or willing to tackle the form of opera.

So there we were in 2014, an experienced international composer-librettist team with a full-length score developed in Canada from an award-winning short opera produced in New Zealand... and no takers. But we'd come too far to let it drop. We scoured the Web for possibilities... and found the Flourish New Opera Competition.

We entered; we waited; and on Labour Day weekend, we heard from the organizers: Ulla's Odyssey has been selected for the finals of our competition. First prize means a full production by the renowned OperaUpClose. Please present a 12-minute selection from your score to our panel of senior artists from the opera community, at our public showing on September 21, in the King's Head Theatre Pub.

In London, England.

Anthony was in despair – "We can't afford to go over there! How do we pull off a 12-minute showcase on another continent in less than 3 weeks?" – but I said, wait a sec. You know lots of classical music people; I know lots of musical theatre folk. Let's see what we can do.

In short order, Anthony had assembled three Kiwis in London, including pianist Terence Penk who generously offered to rehearse the company at his flat. Musical theatre dynamos Barb Tomasic (Vancouver) and George Masswohl (Toronto) had helped me hunt down some other prospects. However, we were still missing our Goddess of the Sea. Then Lynda Hill told me about an online casting resource for opera in London. We thought no one of substance would bother with our crap little one-off gig, but decided to take a chance and pop a notice up anyway.

Seventeen seconds later, we had our first response. Then another one five seconds after that. Then... holy shit, the resumés kept rolling in, and they were extraordinary. It made Anthony and I want to write a whole other opera just so we could work with all these incredible artists. Grainne Gillis, whom we eventually cast, told us later: "It was a chance to sing for some very important people in the opera community, so it was a showcase for us, too. Also, a lot of us are hungry for this kind of new work. And you were offering to pay for it. You keep apologising for it not being a lot, but not everyone even makes the gesture."

That was the other thing. Anthony and I decided there was no way we could ask strangers to work for us for free, so we dug into our own pockets to give people at least a token payment for their extremely specialized services. This involved finding out about international transfers: fortunately Terence (whom Anthony knew a little, at least) agreed to be our paymaster to save on fees. It was, like everything else in this process, a running leap of faith, but Anthony and I decided: if we don't bet on ourselves, who else will?

In one week, we had four singers and a pianist, and it was time to rehearse. We could get everyone together for exactly two rehearsals. So, we gathered at Terence's home. Anthony served as musical director, and I directed the performances.... by Skype. (If you are ever tempted to repeat this experiment, you should know that there are now more reliable platforms for teleconferencing with multiple parties: but that was what we could figure out in the time we had.) Rehearsals went as well as one could hope: we had, incredibly, assembled a crack team, and they clearly got (and dug) the material. And so we sent them off, with a few coins in their pocket, to the King's Head Pub for the final adjudication. "Good luck! Tell us how it went!"

That weekend, I was at a little resort in the Okanagan region of BC with my husband. We were recuperating from a gruelling period of work, and we were supposed to be untethering from all electronics, but I had to make an exception for my cell phone: "I'm stage managing this workshop in London, darling..." And thank god, because I got a panicked text: "____ hasn't turned up yet, what do we do?" We figured it out. Then (given the eight-hour time difference) I went to bed. When I woke up, the photo at the head of this article had appeared on my cell phone, with a two-word text: "WE WON!"

I'm so proud of our beautiful production. I'm thrilled with the upcoming UK tour. But this photo, taken two years ago today, is officially now my favourite work photo of all time. Because it reminds me that the round-the-world journey of getting this opera produced was much like that of Ulla herself. Firstly it required someone at the tiller (or, in the case of Anthony and me, two someones) with a big idea, resourcefulness, a dollop of luck, and an ocean of dogged, pig-headed, mulish tenacity. Secondly, it needed many generous and unseen hands working together to float our boat.

Award-winning and successfully produced in both the UK and New Zealand, Ulla's Odyssey is still waiting for its North American début...
 

AND BELLA SANG WITH US Named "Pick of the Fringe"

My summer acting gig, And Bella Sang With Us, has been chosen as a Pick of the Fringe by the Vancouver Fringe Festival. That means you get one more chance to see this exuberantly feminist cop caper about Canada's first policewomen patrolling Vancouver's Downtown East Side; and I get one more shot at steering through all the twists and turns of this slalom role with a kindred band of sisters (and one delightfully unpredictable brother.) Wednesday, Sept. 21 at 8:45 pm at a new venue: Performance Works on Granville Island. Tickets and information here.

YOU ARE HAPPY nominated for national prize.

You Are Happy – my translation of Rébecca Déraspe's sparkling hit comedy, Deux ans de votre vie, recently published by Playwrights Canada Press – has just been nominated for the prestigious Stage West Pechet Family Comedy Award. This national competition recognizes a member of the Playwrights Guild of Canada who, in the opinion of the jury, has written the year's best unproduced comedy script.

I am delighted that the jury has recognized a play in translation, thus widening the door for the vibrant work by a new generation of francophone playwrights in Canada. I am thrilled that this exciting young woman – an award-winning writer of intelligent and original comedy whose work I deeply believe in – is now getting this kind of well-deserved recognition in our other official language. And I have renewed my determination to see this play produced in English (did I mention that it has not yet been produced?!)

Congratulations to our fellow nominees, Briana Brown and Kristen Da Silva, and to all the Tom Hendry nominees. And Rébecca, je me croise les doigts pour le 30 octobre!
 

Feed, Fight, Flee, and... Flirt: Rehearsing "And Bella Sang With Us"

In real life, fighting and making love are intimate acts: outside of whoever you're doing them with, no one else exists.

In the theatre, representing either violence or sexuality comes with a set of paradoxes.

During stage combat, your first duty is to your own safety and that of your fellow performers. Your second duty is to make it look like you're trying to hurt them.

Staging love/attraction/sexuality, meanwhile, turns one's most private moments into a PDA.

Actors love to live as fully as possible through their time on stage. In And Bella Sang With Us, I get to deduce, chase, argue, mime, sing, drink, kiss, make jokes, make a fool of myself and others, and perform heroic deeds. I'm a lover, a fighter, a friend, and (as The Wire would have it) "good police".

I knew I'd ease into the fighting slowly, able to bring the aggression only once I'm sure I know the choreography and that no one's going to lose an eye. (I'm lucky in that Sarah May Redmond and I just worked together on He Said It. In fight scenes as in love scenes, trust always helps.)

On the other hand, I was startled to hear from director Sarah Rodgers and her assistant Ian that whenever Simon Webb and I are playing ex-lovers O'Rourke and Harris, our volume drops to a nearly inaudible whisper. As Ian put it: "If this were a film and we had microphones, it would be very steamy!" Simon and I are both stage animals and, once into performance, I doubt we've ever gotten a volume note in our lives. However, this is rehearsal, and this is different. The overt sexual content of this play is pretty mild – it's essentially a buddy cop story set in 1912, after all – but Harris and O'Rourke have a pretty torrid history, even if only the tip of it is currently bobbing above the surface.

I do feel that, particularly when we play lovers with actors who are strangers, there needs to be a period (even one run-through, if the schedule is tight) where it is just for us. We need to create intimacy... because erotic and sexual material, in the context of the theatre, is not generally about exhibitionism. It's not actually a PDA. It's a very private moment... shared.

Not to worry, though, Rodge: now that Simon and I have got the hang of it, we'll bump it up a decibel or forty. Next I need to focus on improving my hand-to-hand... while wearing a long skirt. Good times.

And Bella Sang With Us plays at the Cultch Sept. 9-17. Tickets and more information here.

My comments about intimacy and privacy are obviously not universally applicable: when it comes to the Kardashian family, for example, all bets are off. However, most reality TV stars haven't seen fit to turn their talents to the stage. Yet.

Back on the boards in September

Gearing up to rehearse And Bella Sang With Us for the Vancouver Fringe in September. This fast-paced historical adventure passes the Bechdel Test with flying colours and with Sarahs to spare: we initially had *four* of them in our rehearsal room, which made it feel like some sort of Presbyterian convent (or the world's most goyishe mikvah). In the interests of sanity, they have been renamed Sarah May (Redmond), Sarah Louise (Turner), Sarah Roa (her full name), and Rodge (Sarah Rodgers), for the duration. Sally Stubbs is around as producer and playwright, and stage manager Patricia Jiang is on hand to keep all that estrogen on the straight(ish) and narrow.

Our resident menfolk include assistant director Ian Harmon and ASM Kenta Nezu. Versatile SImon Webb rounds out the cast, playing all mankind. Simon should compare notes with dear Rob Fortin, who played The Men when we did the equally female-centric For Home and Country at the 4th Line Theatre. Or possibly with Chris Hemsworth from Ghostbusters... though at least our action-packed tale is unlikely to retroactively ruin the childhoods of any whiny American boy-men.

Ulla prepares to set sail across the UK

I recently heard from Dominic Haddock – at London's unfailingly innovative, Olivier Award-winning OperaUpClose – that they have just received the largest grant in the company's history, to bring Ulla's Odyssey (composed by Anthony Young, my creative partner and friend) to children across the UK. From their most recent newsletter:

"This month we've been working on our Arts Council funded creative learning programme building workshops that will tour with Ulla's Odyssey and introduce 7 to 11 year old children to opera. The cast has been working with theatre in education company, Big Wheel, to design and deliver these workshops which we will take around the country in the Autumn and Spring 2017, engaging almost 4000 children."

I just now discovered this blog entry from our imaginative and gifted director, Valentina Ceschi, about the training the cast and crew have been doing to be able to roll out this educational programme. It's a fascinating peek into Big Wheel's approach to engaging children with the performing arts in a way that empowers them and harnesses their own imaginations. The idea that thousands of young people (especially those outside of London) will have a chance to discover the joy of opera and live performance through this show, is quite thrilling to me. And on reading Valentina's words, I feel a rush of affection for all my collaborators on this adventure... and great gratitude for the Canada Council travel grant that allowed me to join Anthony and Valentina and the cast and crew last fall, in a tiny magical rehearsal space under a railway bridge in Brixton. From now on, Archway 468 will always be my Platform 9 3/4.