C. Sterling is a name many may be unfamiliar with, but Craig Smith, the artist behind the new indie folk act, is no stranger to the scene.

Smith has been making music since the mid-2000s in collaboration with other artists – he was a founding member of alt-rock outfit The Silent Authors as well as one half of folk duo Ohmbe. In 2010 Smith embarked on a solo project under the moniker C. Sterling, and the result is No Matter, an EP combining synthesized computer sounds and catchy yet contemplative acoustic folk-pop.

Featuring the co-writing efforts of his Silent Authors’ bandmate Brad Woods, as well as Iain Rose on the drums, Smith’s solo release is a contemplative, at times almost moody, reflection on love. The songs, sung in Smith’s melodic timbre reminiscent of Coldplay’s Chris Martin or Bon Iver, are composed of introspective lyrics and looping — layered melodies that stick in one’s mind.

In terms of the sound, this EP features an atmospheric sonic depth similar to the sound of Toronto’s indie folk group Ohbijou. In fact, Casey Mecija, lead vocalist of Ohbijou lends her ethereal, bell-clear voice to the title track, “No Matter.” This song is a lullaby-like ballad with a repeating melody and an echoing sentiment of steadfast devotion, “no matter where we go, my love, no matter where we go.”

Smith, as part of The Silent Authors, garnered acclaim from such notable artists as Dan Mangan, DRMHLLR, and Ohbijou following the 2007 release of Under City Lights, and again with folk duo Ohmbe, after their self-titled release. So with his re-emergence as C. Sterling, he looks to be in the right company to go far, especially given the involvement of renowned Toronto producer Leon Taheny (Final Fantasy, Sebastien Grainger).

With this EP, Smith’s talent as a solo artist is apparent, both lyrically and vocally. However, No Matter appears to be just a foretaste of the capabilities of C. Sterling.

Track List:
01. All the Hell You Breathe
02. No Matter
03. Tiger Proud
04. Sum>Parts

Andrew Pyper is the kind of author most would-be writers dream of being — instantly successful.

His first published work, a collection of short stories entitled Kiss Me, came out in 1996 to wide acclaim and was followed by a stint as a writer-in-residence at Berton House in Dawson City, Yukon, and also at Champlain College at Trent University. His first novel, Lost Girls(published in 1999), was a national bestseller in Canada and landed the honour of being listed on the Notable Book selection of both The Globe and Mail (in 1999) and The New York Times Book Review (in 2000). Also at the start of the millennium, Lost Girls won the Arthur Ellis Award for Best First Novel, and the ensuing decade has proceeded to be very kind to him.

Each of his following four novels have been published internationally to global acclaim — The Trade Mission, his second novel, was published in Canada, the US, the UK, Germany, and the Netherlands — and each novel consistently ends up on “Best of . . .” lists. His 2005 novel, The Wildfire Season, was listed in The Globe and Mail‘s Best Books of the Year selection; and 2008′s The Killing Circle made The New York Times list of notable crime novels of the year.

His fifth and most recent novel, The Guardians (published in January of 2011 by Anchor Canada, a division of Random House), looks set to continue this trend.

Trevor is a man with secrets. But he is not alone. His three best friends grew up with him in the small town of Grimshaw, Ontario, all members of the high school hockey team: the Grimshaw Guardians. The four boys were inseparable: Randy, the goofy joker and aspiring actor; Carl, the surly heartbreaker who always had his best friends’ backs; Ben, the Zen-like dreamer; and Trevor, the stable one. At 16, they were also the four youngest players on the hockey squad.

But within this tight-knit group, loyal to each other even as adulthood takes them in vastly different directions, a dark secret lies buried, one that stretches back almost 25 years to the winter they all turned 16. But as a small but pivotal character notes at one point in the novel, sometimes the dead come back.

The story begins in the present when Trevor receives the news that Ben, the only one to stay behind when the rest of the group left — or rather, escaped Grimshaw — is dead. He has hanged himself from a beam in his attic bedroom where he still lived with his elderly mother. Now, the ghosts of the past have literally come back to haunt the surviving members of the group.

Told from Trevor’s point of view, the narrative swings the reader from the present, where Trevor and Randy are compelled to return to Grimshaw for Ben’s funeral (the troubled Carl, who has spent his adult life in and out of halfway houses for drug addiction, is unreachable), and back into the past, where again it is Trevor’s voice that shapes the world of four young men on the brink of the inexplicable horrors of adulthood.

The book moves like a slow boil, revealing layers of plot as it jumps back and forth through time, and always from Trevor’s perspective. The novel avoids the clichéd use of flashback by staging these forays into the past in the form of a “memory diary.” At the age of forty, Trevor has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Faced with the increasingly uncontrollable shakes and vivid hallucinations promised by his doctors, he has been advised by a therapist to document the progress of his disease — “not that she used that word. Instead she referred to the unstoppable damage being done to me as an ‘experience,’ as if it were a trip to Paraguay or sex with twins.”

Rather than dwelling on his disease in this way, Trevor begins to write about the past, and when his hands become too unsteady for that, he dictates it into a voice recorder. This is what the reader comes across between chapters (and serving as a prologue) — efficiently-titled journal entries providing the background to what has happened and presenting clues to the unfinished business that lies ahead.

However, the novel consciously calls into question the reliability of memory, a point which becomes crucial to the story. Trevor compares his memory diary to “the sort of half-made-up scenes we used to watch on those That’s Incredible! TV specials, shows that ‘investigated’ the existence of UFOs and the Loch Ness Monster using dramatizations of witness accounts. It wasn’t the truth, but the truth as someone remembered it, and someone else wrote into a scene.”

In the prologue, an as-yet-unidentified Trevor describes a scene he remembers watching from behind his curtains, a scene of the house across the way and apparently of a gruesome crime being discovered by the local police. “We remember all this, though still not everything,” he says. “And some of the things we remember may not have happened at all.”

This statement sets the tone for what follows, which, coupled with the first-person narrative, allow — and maybe even challenge — the reader to try and decipher what is true and what is the fevered imaginings of young men dealing with too much, too soon.

Trevor and Randy are ostensibly in town for a funeral but end up resurrecting long dead secrets in the process. When Tracey, the daughter of a former fellow Grimshaw Guardian, goes missing in the same way their young, beautiful music teacher, Heather Langham, disappeared 24 years earlier, they realize that what they tried to bury and forget about so many years ago — the thing that kept Ben in Grimshaw as a self-appointed guardian of the past — has somehow reared to life again. This fact is made more eerie to them by Tracey’s acknowledged similarity to Heather Langham in appearance and bearing.

As Trevor and Randy take it upon themselves to investigate her disappearance, they are drawn further and further into the past, with Trevor’s memory diary serving as a guide for the reader to draw connections and realize the implications at each turn of the narrative.

The Guardians is an adult ghost story, and like all ghost stories, it requires and provides a haunted house. The old Thurman house, 321 Caledonia (at the end of Caledonia Street, across from Ben McAuliffe’s house), is the one place in town “we never even dared each other to go.” The narrator notes that the adults could not visualize their houses as being haunted, but the children had no choice. However, this haunted house holds more real horrors than what can be dreamed by any child. Yet, this is not a typical supernatural horror story. It is a psychological crime thriller, which also functions as a credible ghost story.

The principal character himself casts doubt as to the reality of what he sees and remembers. So when he sees ghosts in the window of the abandoned and derelict building, he blames it on his Parkinson’s symptoms and begins to wonder if Ben’s alleged mental illness — his obsession with watching the house — is beginning to take hold of him too. However, this very denial only enhances the sense that his words are merely excuses to stop himself from recognizing the truth in front of him. As he says, when they were children, “It spooked us. But no more than the werewolf and vampire comics we traded among ourselves that delivered brief, dismissible chills. Even then we didn’t think there was such a thing as a real haunted house. Of all the things we ended up wrong about, that was the first.”

One interesting thing about The Guardians is that aside from the main plot, there is an interesting subplot that deals with the nature of relationships between men. The story talks about how men are hardwired to react certain ways to situations — to be guardians, so to speak — no matter how much of a toll this might take and regardless of the long-reaching effects of their decisions.

“We were good guys. Unquestioned loyalty. A soldier’s duty. This is what our coach, our fathers, every hero we’d ever watched on the Vogue’s screen had taught us,” Trevor recalls in his memory diary. “Standing up for the fellow wearing the same uniform as you, even if it made little sense, even if it meant getting hurt. This is how it was supposed to go in hockey games, anyway, and in war movies, and in the lessons handed down from our baffled, misled fathers. But here’s the thing we found out too late to make a difference: our fathers and movie heroes might have been wrong.”

But the novel also talks about the strength of the relationships between men, despite the fact that, as the author says, men typically don’t talk about certain things. Upon hearing about Ben’s suicide, Trevor notes sadly, “There was a love between us too. A sexless, stillborn love, yet just as fierce as the other kinds. The common but largely undocumented love between men who forged their friendship in late childhood.”

With this novel, Pyper seems to be seeking to fill that gap; to provide this documentation of the internal lives of men — not the college-kid, beer-fuelled boasting of a Tucker Max or sex-chasing pickup tips of a Neil Strauss, but the musings of men coming to terms with growing older and making sense of what accomplishments they may or may not have achieved in life, and what legacy they will leave behind.

Pyper exhibits crisp writing, and an economy of words and detail, like an abstract drawing which surprises you with the depth and perspective evoked by a few, well-placed lines.

With The Guardians, he merges the crime fiction genre with psychological thriller and supernatural drama in a narrative that starts off slow and menacing and picks up the pace to the point where it is impossible to stop reading until you come to its stunning, breathless conclusion.

“ ’Twas the week before Christmas, and in the Great Hall, three lovely singing ladies held an audience enthralled . . . ” Okay, so maybe it doesn’t quite go like that! But in the spirit of the season that turned “Jingle Bells” into “Jingle Bell Rock,” a few twists on tradition are bound to be permitted. Speaking of tweaking tradition, though, Toronto’s talented folk trio the Good Lovelies brought an early hint of Christmas cheer to the Great Hall on December 17, where they performed in support of their Christmas album, Under the Mistletoe.

Blending their distinctive, harmonious voices, the three ladies did slightly tweaked versions of traditional Christmas melodies, beginning with “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” acknowledged as the song that brought them together five years ago. This and other Christmas favourites like “Santa Baby” and “Another Year to Wait” were mixed in with tunes from their latest studio album, Let The Rain Fall, as well as covers of songs from a wide range of musicians — from Gordon Lightfoot, to k-os, to Julie London.

The set showcased the multi-instrumental talents of the Good Lovelies — between songs the ladies would frequently exchange instruments. The list of instruments is not a short one: acoustic and electric guitars, bass guitars, a ukulele, an upright bass (played by backup musician Ben Whitely), a lap slide guitar (played by another backup band member, Christine Bougie), a mandolin, a banjo, and a keyboard on a stand, (played mainly by Kerri Ough), and a tambourine.

When introducing themselves and their back-up band (Ben Whitely of New Country Rehab, and Christine Bougie of The Tuxedo Project), they noted that Justin Bieber had also released a Christmas album called Under the Mistletoe. This, they pointed out was great news for their sales . . . not so much for the lovelorn teenage girls who might unwittingly buy their album and think, “Justin Bieber’s voice really is changing!”

It is doubtful that the Good Lovelies really have to worry about sales, though, going by their recent Canadian Folk Music Award for Folk Group of the Year. They could well be called Canada’s sweethearts because it seems their charm never seems to stop, and hopefully, their charmed lives won’t either.

Whether they’re playing for a sold-out crowd or for two people at a small show (an experience they laughingly relate to this crowd), the folk trio made up of Kerri Ough, Caroline Brooks, and Sue Passmore always seem to leave the crowd delighted. At the Great Hall performance, they kept the audience laughing between sets with genuinely hilarious accounts of life on the road.

Talking about their parents (who supported them when the three musicians quit their day jobs to focus on music full-time), the band jokes that their parents are a bit too supportive at times – their parents go as far as using an online flight-tracker tool to check in with them while the band is travelling on tour. The ladies joked that if it wasn’t their parents checking the band’s flights, it would be stalkerish; but because it’s them the ladies appreciate the love!

During another break in the singing — while the three women once again exchanged guitars, banjos, and myriad other instruments set on stands around the stage — the Toronto natives talked about what it was like performing in other parts of Canada.

“It’s good to be home for a day. . . . If we’ve found one thing while travelling around, it’s that people outside don’t like [Toronto]. So we wrote Toronto a love song.” Then, with a comically timed pause, “It was before the most recent election, so . . . a few more verses need to be added.”

When Sue Passmore talked about moving to Picton (a town near Kingston, Ontario), with her husband so that he could go to school at Queen’s University, she recalled how much she loved living in the town.

However, “Picton isn’t very romantic, so this song is called Kingston,” she said to the crowd, which responded in laughter. Right before launching into the song, she added, “I don’t tell them that in Kingston.”

Perhaps it was the Great Hall venue, the little round tables festooned with tea lights and red table cloths, the dimmed lighting, or the high ceiling arches, and raised stage like a pulpit, but it felt almost church-like because of the intimacy of the performance despite the large number of people in attendance.

And it was a mixed crowd — young, smartly-dressed twenty-somethings mixed with an older crowd which varied in age and included a group of white-haired ladies who greeted me pleasantly on the way out as they waited for their ride. It was very much a grown-ups show, complete with sly, grown-up humour, like the joke about the cultural difference between pants here and pants in England. The three ladies, all wearing stylishly simple dresses, said they have a “no-pants policy,” and when they toured Europe they realized why Kerri prefers to call it the “dresses only policy.”

“Why is the crowd so big? Oh, they think we’re not wearing any underwear!”

All in all, it was definitely a worthy night out, and a good way to get everyone who attended into the holly-and-mistletoe mood. The Good Lovelies sang and positively sparkled with effervescent charm. And judging from the way the applause would start even before the songs had ended, it would appear the audience enjoyed it as much as I did.

As for the Good Lovelies themselves, who would they want to meet Under the Mistletoe?

Kerri: “I chose David Bowie. Always David Bowie.”
Sue: “Walter Matthau, after watching Grumpy Old Men.”
Caroline: “Justin Bieber. Just kidding. Maybe.”

The Hair National Tour © Joan Marcus

Exuberant. Controversial. Political. Flamboyant. Joyful. Everything you’ve heard about Hair is true.

From the opening song, “Aquarius,” led by the powerful vocals of Dionne (Phyre Hawkins), the show explodes with energy. The Tribe bursts on the scene singing and dancing down the aisles from the back of the theatre, swinging off the ladders and platforms on the stage in celebration of love, life, and the freedom to be individual. Each irrepressible, infectious song melts seamlessly into the next, and the Tribal Love really rocks the auditorium.

But just in case you haven’t seen it, here’s the synopsis. It’s 1967. The Vietnam War rages overseas and on TV screens. In New York, a group of free-spirited friends calling themselves the Tribe resist the war and all it stands for with love, peace, and flower-power. The charismatic and free-lovin’ Berger (Steel Burkhardt) stands as the de facto leader of the group, who also rejects prevailing societal views (and regulations) regarding race, sexuality, and drugs.

But then Claude (Paris Remillard), whose parents highly disapprove of his hippie lifestyle, receives his draft card in the mail. What follows is a tug-of-war: should he burn his draft card as his friends are doing and continue to protest the ongoing war, or should he join up and allow the army to “make a man out of you,” as his parents want, and do his parents proud?

To complicate matters further, there is Sheila. The love of his life, Sheila (Sara King) is an outspoken, vehement activist, showing up for the first time on stage after being tear-gassed at a Washington rally. The problem is that Sheila loves Berger. But then, so does Claude.

Jeanie (Aleque Reid), a pregnant member of the Tribe who serves in parts as the expository narrator, puts it succinctly: “Sheila digs Berger. Claude digs Sheila. Woof (a reluctantly gay, Catholic tribe member) digs Claude.” At this point, Woof (played by Ryan Link), protests indignantly, “No, I don’t!” – despite having just been caught seconds earlier reaching for Claude. Jeanie finishes off, “And Berger digs everybody!”

This is a show that gleefully and repeatedly breaks the fourth wall, and the audience interaction pushes the boundaries of personal space. With the overly-sensual Berger, the audience members in the front row were treated to close-up views of his fringed, buckskin thong, and patrons seated near the aisle had his fingers running through their hair frequently in passing.

The music is the soul of the narrative. No institution is sacred, and none exempt from the show’s satirical and incisive wit – the song “Sodomy,” led by Woof, is preceded by his making the sign of the cross. From the dreamy, hazy rendition of “Hashish” – a loving tribute to getting high – to “Coloured Spade” and “I’m Black” – where Hud (Mike Evariste) commands the audience to “Step to the back of the bus . . . with me” – the show tackles all of the ideas of right and wrong and turns them on their head. The idea of anti-miscegenation (interracial marriage) is ripped to shreds in the delightfully saucy twin-set of songs, “Black Boys” and “White Boys.” From religion to marriage to race-based discrimination, Hair throws it all in the ring and dances circles around it.

It is joyful and carefree, but there is an underlying thread of panic and despair when the Tribe attempts to come to terms with Claude’s dilemma over being drafted to fight in the Vietnam War. They throw in suggestions for ways he can avoid the draft – “Become a nun!” “Wet the bed!” – and talk of smuggling him to Canada to escape it.

But Claude himself is torn in many directions. Paris Remillard’s Claude is by turns funny and heart wrenching. His obvious love for Sheila and his deep-seated feelings for Berger form the core of his resistance to obey both his parents’ will and the government-ordered draft notice. However, his relationships within the Tribe, as loving and carefree as they are, aren’t enough to sustain his visions of a future for himself.

“I don’t want to go to Vietnam,” he cries out in one scene where he also rejects his parents’ plans of his being a doctor or lawyer. “But I don’t want to be a bum.”

This additional rejection has an instant sobering effect, particularly on Berger, whose whole way of life Claude is rejecting. The comedic element never really leaves, however, as in the next moment Claude whines plaintively, “I just want to have lots of money!”

The story, at its core, is the classic dilemma of youth on the cusp of adulthood – where does one go? In one of the most talked-about scenes, with the song, “Where Do I Go?” the tribe slowly strips off their clothing in the closing song of Act 1 as a final protest to those who condemn their beliefs and lifestyle: We are not what you say we are; we’re just human beings underneath it all.

Layers of meaning and multiple themes are interwoven into the narrative – freedom of expression, rejection of war, the casting off of traditional and societal sexual norms and racial beliefs. More important, Hair highlights the difficult interpersonal relationships which prove that the bonds of love can all too often be the noose that chokes.

A beautiful, joyous celebration of life, love, and freedom – even with its tragic undertones – Hair is one show that resonates across generations and proves that love, peace, and music really can change the world.

Show information:
December 13-31, 2011
Royal Alexandra Theatre, 260 King St West, Toronto, Ontario, M5V1H9

Showtimes:
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday: 8 p.m.
Saturday, Sunday: 2 p.m.
Saturday: 8 p.m.

Marshal Kennedy Carolan and Steel Burkhardt in Toronto promoting Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical

If four years on the stage qualifies as an education, then Steel Burkhardt is about ready to graduate. But he’s not going anywhere if he can help it.

“I’m actually a little more like a super-senior, too, because I’m doing an ‘extra semester,’ ” he says with a laugh. Burkhardt made his Broadway debut four and a half years ago playing the role of Berger in the Tony Award-winning revival of Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical.

That would make his fellow thespian, Marshal Kennedy Carolan, a sophomore. Carolan made his own Broadway debut with Hair when he joined the national tour as part of the Tribe last year, and now the show that has been called the definitive rock musical will be experiencing something of a homecoming when it returns to Toronto.

From December 13 to 31, 2011, Hair will play a limited engagement at the Royal Alexandra Theatre – the same theatre the show made its original Canadian debut at back in December of 1969. And as with every homecoming, there has to be a homecoming dance, but the good thing about Hair is that everybody, including the audience, gets to participate.

Cadence had a chance to sit down with Burkhardt, who plays the charismatic and irresistibly charming Berger, and Marshal Kennedy Carolan, whose role in the Tribe has allowed him to be a part of something bigger than he imagined.

“There are shows that actors come across that are written just for pure entertainment, and I feel like this show is of course entertaining,” Carolan says. “But it also is one of those special shows that you have the chance to impact so many people’s lives by performing in front of them every night. You know, like, they take with them what they want from it more than just a fun night at the theatre. There’s something more to this show that affects a lot of people, which is a really cool thing to be a part of.”

Hair follows a group of hopeful, free-spirited young people who advocate a lifestyle of pacifism, drug experimentation, and free love in a society riddled with brutality and intolerance during the Vietnam War. When Berger, the young, charismatic leader of the group, is drafted into the war, their peaceful lifestyle collides with society’s expectations of them. With themes of sexual identity, racism, and anti-war political demonstrations, the show remains as relevant today as when it premiered in 1967. In fact, with a decade-long war still ongoing in the Middle East, it may be seen as even more relevant today than ever.

“Well, I mean, it’s minus the draft, which is what is the basic idea of what really brought a lot more young Americans out to protest,” says Burkhardt. “But the idea is that we don’t know if it’s the end of this war. We’d like to think that it is going to be, but the ideas of terrorism could continue, you know? Like cells could open up and close every single day. That’s what the media tells us. But I think that does resonate from both eras, and that’s why people who come and see [Hair], they’re like, ‘It’s still just as potent today as it was back then!’ And it is.”

The show has spawned such well-known hits as “Let the Sun Shine In,” “Aquarius,” and of course, “Hair.” In addition, the show has taken the awards arena by storm.

In 2009, Hair won the Tony Award for Best Musical Revival, as well as the Drama Desk, Drama League, and Outer Critics’ Circle Award for Outstanding Revival of a Musical. The show was also nominated for seven more Tony Awards, including Best Direction (by director Diane Paulus), Best Choreography, Best Costume Design, Best Lighting Design, and Best Sound Design. If that’s not enough, the cast recording was also nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Musical Show Album.

So how does it feel to be part of such a theatrical powerhouse?

“It’s a great show,” Burkhardt says. “I mean, it’s my first. We opened on Broadway – I made my Broadway debut with it, as well as Marshal just did in the summer – and I’m so happy and pleased to have been a part of it and been a part of such a production that, you know, was like the 40th anniversary of it when we originally did it in the park. And just how it grew from there, and how it’s affected me as well as it’s affected the people that have seen it. Just from the music, the show, the vibe, the feel, you know, just everything it encompasses. I mean, the idea that it’s so nostalgic, and yet kids who are sixteen and in college come and see it, and they’re just like, ‘God, I want to be in the show,’ or they want to live in that show.”

Carolan, whose long blonde hair makes him look every bit the California native he is, could well be one of those kids, from his level of excitement at being a part of Hair. Burkhardt shows his enthusiasm, but he also has the veteran’s cool, whereas Carolan’s face lights up when talking about performing the tour’s kickoff show in Washington DC.

“I loved performing at the Kennedy Centre in DC,” he says. “It was the first stop on the tour and it was just such a cool place to be able to open a show like Hair and perform in such an amazing city, political city, in America.”

Burkhardt has similar sentiments about performing in DC, recalling the days he spent riding past all the historical monuments in the city on his way to work at the theatre.

“I stayed with these two guys in a brownstone up on Capitol Hill, and I rode a bike every single day to the theatre in DC,” he says. “And I rode past all the monuments. I rode past the Capitol building every single day, the Congress building every single day, like at night and before the show. That was actually really cool, just to kind of ride a bike around that.”

When one speaks to both actors, one gets the sense that the passion, joy, and intensity with which they imbue their characters comes from a natural place. Carolan points out that Hair, as a politically-themed musical, defines how the relationship between art and politics is an important and long-standing one.

“I think art can influence a person’s mindset on a particular issue more so than a politician or a leader speaking to them.”

With Burkhardt, what comes out is an intelligent and well-informed perspective on the cultural and historical importance of a show like Hair.

“One thing we like to bring up is civil rights. There was a huge civil rights movement all throughout the ’60s, and the summer of ’67 is when our show is taking place, and that’s before the assassination of Martin Luther King, before the assassination of Robert Kennedy,” he says. “So there’s still a lot of intermixing of cultures. It was the first time that people were speaking out. And most people would say that it was the healthiest time period in America’s culture, the 60s, because all of those things, all those conversations, and all that dialogue was happening finally.”

He adds, “I think it’s one of the things why capitalism is great, because you can do that kind of stuff. Why democracy works – because as an artist at least, you’re not told what to do. Michelangelo and all of these artists that were incredible and worked with marble, they were just beautiful pieces of work, [but] you know, they were only allowed to do certain things. Not saying they weren’t extremely religious – maybe they believed, but maybe they didn’t. Maybe they only did that because that was the only way they were allowed to create art. And now we’re not told that we’re not allowed; we don’t have to do that. Now we can do what we want. I mean that’s why, like, Jim Rado, and Gerome Ragni, and Galt MacDermot were able to say, ‘Let’s take a piece of American culture and just throw it up on stage.’ And probably in other societies they would never have been allowed to do that. And a lot of art gets conversation going, or conversation after something happens politically or even sometimes before.”

Politics aside, the other controversial aspect to Hair is the nudity involved in the show. For a musical that showcases the era in American culture where free love was the name of the game, it’s not completely unexpected to see a character or two take off their clothes. But what is it like to go bare in front of everyone each night for money?

“Um, it’s kind of . . . whoa, well, when you put it that way, God!” exclaims Carolan with a laugh.

“The first time you do it, it’s of course terrifying because not many people are ever naked in front of more than a thousand people watching. But it’s one of my favourite parts of the show now, and I don’t feel naked at all. It’s a freeing feeling. It’s actually really fun, and it’s done beautifully. It’s not sexual – or there’s nothing derogatory about it. It’s just the simple human body – naked.”

As for Burkhardt, he is no longer a stranger to public nudity. His bio states that he “was shy in a small concert, then got naked in Central Park, was nude on a Broadway stage, then bared it again on the West End.”

“And actually, I figured out – ‘cause you know I’ve been doing it four and a half years – I actually figured out that I’ve been naked in front of over half a million people,” Burkhardt says. “That’s going on my tombstone.”

“That’s awesome! That’s incredible,” Carolan says, looking at him and laughing.

When asked about their target audience and the re-emerging popularity of musical theatre, due in part to shows like Glee and their own Broadway revival of Hair, Burkhardt and Carolan are more than happy with the trend.

“I think it’s definitely a youthful show. And in New York, especially certain cities (L.A.), we had such a young audience,” says Carolan. “And I love that musical theatre is becoming popular again because it’s such a fun medium in society, and I think that this is absolutely, one hundred percent right up their alley.”

The themes of being your own individual and finding your own identity within a group are things that young people can relate to and often seek out from the theatre experience, according to Carolan.

“I think the popularity of it is good,” Burkhardt agrees. “Now if people would just get out of the comfort of their homes – instead of watching it on TV – and come and actually see a live theatre production, I think their minds would be blown, and they’d realize, oh, this is how it’s truly supposed to be viewed.”

Well, there are only two weeks available to take Burkhardt’s advice and do just that, as Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical tour will only be in Toronto from December 13 to December 31. So get your tickets and show info here, and go and catch the spirit of love, peace, and timeless optimism.

When it comes to fans of Cirque du Soleil, there’s no place like home. Canadians have never been shy about showing a little hometown pride for their cultural exports, and there’s no exception for the show that has turned the concept of circus on its head.

Cirque du Soleil, the brainchild of Montreal’s Guy Laliberte, has grown exponentially since its inception in 1984, spawning a huge international following as well as several fantastically themed shows featuring international acrobats, dancers, gymnasts, musicians, contortionists, and a host of other wonderful sights associated with the traditional circus. But with the added element of dramatic theatre, street entertainment styles, and semi-structured narratives,Cirque du Soleil is much more than just a circus experience. The shows are varied—Totem, Ovo, Alegria, andZumanity, among others—but they all share the common effect of recreating the magic and wonder of the childhood imagination as they tour throughout North America and all across the world.

This December, it will once again be Toronto’s turn to play host to the characters and creatures of Cirque du Soleil. Quidam, one of Cirque’s famed arena shows, will be playing at the Ricoh Coliseum from December 20 to 30, 2011.

“I think Canada’s proud of this export to the rest of the world, so it’s nice to play in Canada,” says Quidam’s bandleader and keyboard player, Jim Bevan. “Just because we’re not playing for outsiders so much, there’s a real support; the audience is more a part of what we’re doing. It’s not so objective, you know.”

Bevan has been a part of the Quidam family for the past decade, initially signing after responding to an online ad for a keyboardist.

“I was looking for a keyboard player/conductor job, and I found this on the internet. So it wasn’t that I was drawn toCirque du Soleil—I didn’t even know what it was at the time. I didn’t know what I was getting into!” he admits with a laugh. “But I had to audition, and I passed the audition. They wanted me, and it seemed cool. And I’m still here ten years later because it’s fun.”

While Quidam retains many of the same imaginative elements of other Cirque shows, it is a little more grounded in reality, specifically the reality that many people are disconnected from each other and society in general. The meaning of quidam is defined in the show synopsis as “someone coming or going at the heart of our anonymous society. A member of the crowd, one of the silent majority. The one who cries out, sings and dreams within us all. This is the quidam whom this show allows to speak.”

The principal character is Zoe, a little girl in a dysfunctional family whose parents are distant and too apathetic to pay attention to her needs. As a result, she withdraws into a world of her imagination in order to escape her parents’ apathy. Within herself she discovers a fantastical world, but one which subtly hints at the gritty, tough world outside that she is trying to escape. This world is played out in true Cirque fashion with 52 world-class performers including singers, musicians, acrobats, gymnasts, and contortionists.

Cadence had a chance to sit down with Jim Bevan, at the Lower Ossington Theatre when he and a few members of the travelling tour stopped by Toronto for a quick sneak preview of what is to come. As we spoke, four members of the skipping group were doing a short performance in front of a CBC camera recording them for a piece on the upcoming show.

Bevan has toured with the show since 2001, but one might say that his rich musical background studying classical piano and rock from a young age, working as a professional jazz musician in several bands over a number of years, as well as working as an orchestra conductor in Philadelphia prepared him for this role long before he got the job.

“The show goes between jazz, to rock, to you know, classical, to world, and I’ve done all that stuff, so it’s not like we were doing something I had to learn for the show. The show fit me, which I think they knew right from the audition,” Bevan says, remembering.

“I had a feeling ten minutes into the audition that the vibe was ‘okay, let’s show you how this works.’ Rather than [my] trying to impress them, it was like, ‘Okay, he fits. He’s the guy.’And there was a connection between me and the guy who actually was the original bandleader, who was running the audition. He and I just connected in like ten minutes, and like, ‘Okay, let’s just get to work.’ That was nice.”

Quidam is slightly different from any of the other Cirque shows because rather than taking on great fantastical themes and mind-boggling effects and costumes, Quidam is more focused on everyday people and common, everyday concerns.

“There’s a little girl the show sort of revolves around,” explains Bevan. “She sort of has a dysfunctional family. Her parents aren’t . . . well, you just feel they’re not connecting in the beginning. And then she just sort of retreats into this world. It’s a very ‘street’ feel to it. That’s why like, the [Quidam] logo, if you look at it, it’s actually spray paint, like graffiti. The other shows—I mean, I don’t want to diss the other shows, but they’re more fantastical and dreamy. And this is more reality; the costumes are simpler.”

This simplicity is not restricted to the themes, Bevan adds, noting that even the presentation and performing acts are a bit more toned down.

“The makeup is beautiful, but you can still see the person inside. It’s not a ridiculous thing. And the band is just wearing comfortable clothes, which is why I’m still here! Some shows, the band is wearing fake noses and stuff, and we’re just up there in suits, almost pyjamas, linen suits! And the acts are actually stuff you can see on the street, like I’m here today with skipping (for the CBC video clip being shot at the same time). Skipping is something you could see on the streets, so there’s just a feeling that it’s a much more [like] reality.”

The aspect of reality that Quidam looks at is the problem of societal disconnection. In the show, this is represented by the distant relationship between young Zoe and her parents, but it also extends to refer to the anonymity of our present society – the word quidam is Latin for “everyman” – and how despite the prevalence of social media, the disconnectedness only seems to be growing. Bevan says this show celebrates the individuality of people and attempts to draw attention to this need for people to focus more on living. It is probably no coincidence that the principal character’s name, Zoe, means “life” in Greek.

“In the end, what sort of happens is that people find themselves, find who they are,” Bevan says.

With such a universal theme, Bevan says that performing all over the world means that there is often no problem with audiences not understanding their message.

“It’s great because we travel all over the world, and it transcends. There’s not a language barrier. Everywhere we go everybody understands what we’re doing, so it just makes the world seem closer, especially because the group [represents] so many countries, it just makes the world . . . manageable!”

The show was conceived in 1996, and since then it has toured on five continents, from Japan to Australia to all across North America and many places in between. Despite having been around over 15 years, it stills strikes a relevant chord.

“I think it’s timely. I think things have changed from when the show was created. When they created it, it was little more than a general concept, sort of like 1984, George Orwell-like, pre-Y2k, you know? The world’s going to end because the century’s going to change. And now, it’s different, but it’s still disconnected. It’s a different kind of disconnection, but the show still works,” Bevan says.

“People still feel like nobody knows who they are, you know? They’re just ploughing through the world and trying to be themselves, and it’s not easy. I think all the connection, all the message is still there. They still get it; it still makes sense. I think you could play this show 200 years ago, and people would still be like, ‘Yeah, that’s right; nobody understands me.’”

However, Bevan admits there have been a few exceptions, where they perform and the disconnection that plays out in the show’s theme ends up surfacing in the audience.

“We’ve played in places, like Shanghai, where it just felt like they were like, ‘What the heck is this?’” And I don’t want to diss China, but Shanghai was one of the worst places because you had the feeling that they didn’t get that this was theatre,” Bevan says.

“It felt like they were watching a baseball game, because we do this one beautiful, quiet, very still act in the middle of the second half, and you would just see the cell phones go on, and people would start talking, and it just felt like they were attending a baseball game. The game was going on, but they weren’t supposed to [be paying attention to it]; they could do what they want.”

Despite this, Bevan says the travelling life is the one for him.

“Growing up, my favourite book was If I Ran the Circus by Dr Seuss,” he confesses and goes on to quote: “In all the whole town the most wonderful spot is behind Sneelock’s store, in the big vacant lot.”

“Well, there are still those days when I wish I ran the circus,” he laughs. “I’m only the bandleader!”

Watch out for Quidam when it opens on December 20 at the Ricoh Coliseum, and for tickets and more information, click here.

Hope to see you there!

Image copyright held by its owner. Image courtesy: Google

When the Consul of the Netherlands was introducing Stricken, his country’s selection on the eve of the European Union Film Fest’s final night, he said that it would be wrong to say too much about a film before watching it, but noted that this particular movie dealt with its subject matter with customary Dutch directness.

Well, we can’t say he didn’t warn us.

Stricken(2009), from director Reinout Oerlemans, is a movie about a man who has it all. Stijn van Diepens (Barry Atsma) is a successful advertising executive, with a beautiful, intelligent wife, Carmen (Carice Van Houten), a best friend, Frank (Jeroen Willems), more loyal than most, and a little daughter, Luna (Yfke Wegman), the light of his life.

He also has the occasional fling on the side, a predilection which his wife has come to accept as his bad habit. “Some men smoke, others cheat”, he notes in a voiceover near the beginning.

But it all begins to crumble when Carmen finds a lump in her left breast. The scene where their doctor tells them of their treatment  options is slightly jarring in its stillness, because the scenes before that were a series of chaotic jumpcuts visually describing the carefree, hedonistic lifestyle they both enjoyed.

The interesting part of this movie is that you can see that despite his tendency to cheat, Stijn truly does love his wife, because when she begins her chemotherapy, he stays with her during the sessions. Carmen tells him it is sweet of him to want to be there with her, and he says in the voiceover that “want” wasn’t the right word; but that the only thing he wanted less was for her to go alone.

When her hair begins to fall out, they make a joke out of the whole affair. As Carmen sits in front of their bathroom mirror, Stijn standing with a pair of scissors behind her becomes “François”, her exaggeratedly-French hairstylist. When they introduce their bewildered three-year old daughter to the series of wigs her mother will be wearing, a blonde wig transforms Carmen into “Marilyn Monroe” – she is normally a brunette.

The editing is chaotic when it needs to be – such as the scenes where Stijn tries to lose himself in the frenzy of a danceclub, or in the heat of a fumbling tryst – and still when the mood calls for it, like the jarring cuts to Carmen vomiting after chemotherapy.

There is a scene where the use of parallel editing says much more than mere dialogue could have. The camera cuts between shots of Stijn striding down a back hallway of a nightclub, greeting familiar faces and kissing familiar women, while Carmen glides down a similar, but more starkly lit hallway towards her radiation therapy session. The camera slides across her body, showing the red laser scanning down her body and settling on her breast, and in the next shot Stijn is shown moving his mouth over the perfect breast of a scantily-clad woman in the bathroom of the danceclub. The score is brilliant, and apt. The song playing over the closing credits, “Love Over Healing” by Kane, sounds like it could have been written exclusively for this movie:

“Woman, come see me/ Woman, come see me now/ I didn’t mean it, Woman, come hear me out/ All that I seek is/ All that I seek is out/ Woman believe it, Woman come hear me now/…I didn’t know what to do/ I just want to stay close to you…”

It is no surprise after watching Stricken to find that it won awards at the Netherlands Film Festival 2010 for Best Film, and at the Rembrandt Awards 2010 for Best Film, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Film Song.

The movie deals with difficult subject matters – cancer, and its effect not just on the patient but on their families and relationships. It looks squarely at the notion of assisted suicide. It tackles sex, sexuality, and the definition of being a woman when the things that define womanhood – hair, breasts – are gone; as well as the complicated nature of love. Stijn says early on, in a scene describing his indiscretions while on a business trip with Frank (who saves his bacon by retrieving Stijn’s wedding ring from the bottom of the hotel swimming pool), that the other women can have his body, but they can’t have his heart, only Carmen has his heart.

But when Rose comes along, everything changes.

Right around the time Carmen leaves for New York for a recovery vacation, after having surgery to remove her left breast, Rose (Anna Drijver) becomes Stijn’s “surrogate queen”. But more than any other flings, Rose becomes his obsession, his outlet for the fear, despair, and the desperate lust for life that Stijn finds himself chasing after the sicker Carmen becomes.

Stricken shows the downward spiral of a man trying to hold together everything he loves, in the face of warring, contradictory loyalties: Carmen, or Rose? Faithfulness or infidelity? The living, or the dying? Rose, or Luna his beloved daughter?

But the film also masterfully shows the capability and strength of human relationships. Too often we are shown what happens when love is put to the test – through disloyalty, or through huge, looming, uncontrollable circumstances. It often falls apart, leaving brokenness in its wake. But with Stricken, while you see a marriage on the edge of disintegration and a shared life falling apart, the filmmaker manages to inject humour into desperately sad moments, and the incredible acting of the three leading actors showcases the subtle nuances of emotion, as well as its dire extremes.

Joy co-exists with despair here, fear rides alongside humour, and desire courses through the same channels as the graphic depiction of pain, such as the burns inflicted by laser surgery to tackle the tumour in Carmen’s breast.

Through it all, a masterful directorial hand paired with brilliant editing and a beautiful score make this a film worth seeing at least once in your life.

Motivational pop rock anthems are in. From Lady Gaga’s self-love proclamation “Born This Way” to Pink’s defiantly encouraging “F**kin Perfect” and her equally rousing anthem to individuality, “Raise A Glass,” not to mention Katy Perry’s “Fireworks,” the message is clear: Life may be hard, but hope and perseverance will win the day.

However, it is Canada’s own boys from B.C., Hedley, who have stolen my heart and lifted my spirits with their fourth album, Storms. A sincere tribute to hard-won optimism and grit-your-teeth determination, Hedley’s latest offering hits all the right notes and provides a soundtrack to resilient living.

Hedley is no stranger to the theme of getting back up after being knocked down over and over again. While cheery, cheeky pop hits like “Cha-ching!” form a recognizable part of their extensive (and accomplished) canon, the songs that stand out for me are the ones where I can hear the hearts breaking and feel the emotions surging; yet which in the end leave me standing unbowed and resilient (like, “On My Own,” off Hedley’s 2006 self-titled album, and “For the Nights I Can’t Remember,” from 2007′s Famous Last Words.)

The first single released off this latest album, “Invincible,” was also the first track I heard when the song’s riveting, visually captivating music video was featured on MuchMusic. Since its August release, “Invincible” has become Hedley’s fastest selling digital track of the band’s career, and for good reason. The song is a chronicle of an inner monologue that runs through many people’s minds and which the vast majority of us can relate to: “Took a long hard look at my life / Lost my way while I was fighting the tide / A big black cloud / Stormy skies followed me / Oh, I was living a lie.”

It tells a story about aiming for the stars but crashing into the gutter time and again. But then redemption comes with raw, honest, hopeful lyrics like “But I’ve found the strength inside to see / Found a better part of me / And I’ll never let it go… / I’ve come a long, long way / Made a lot of mistakes / But I’m breathing, breathing / That’s right, I made it, made it . . . / I’m a little run down / I’ve been living out loud / I can beat it, beat it / That’s right ‘cause I’m feeling, feeling / Invincible.”

The song is emblematic of their entire album.

Right from the opening bars to the final note, Storms weaves and builds upon a theme of embracing the damaged parts of ourselves and forging ahead through the hurts of the past and the storms of the present. Hedley, in this latest release, is issuing a challenge to every listener to focus on the “living” part of life and charge headfirst into every storm, fuelled by confidence.

With this album, which they have referred to as “a record the band spent its entire career working towards,” Hedley draws from its proven formula of blending fun, sometimes slyly deprecating pop songs (“Hot Mess”) with soulful love ballads (“Beautiful”) alongside thrashing rock anthems (“Bullet for Your Dreams” and the pop-infused “Young”). It is an effort that has elevated their sound to an impressive new level.

There is a sense of potent urgency in “One Life,” a feeling that should the world end before its time, let it not be a world of regret left behind: “If it’s your last night in these streets / You’d be a fool to take a seat / You’ve got one life, one life.”

On “Heaven’s Gonna Wait,” melodic vocals and soaring riffs give rise to the idea that what everyone else does may not the best example if you’re destined to forge the path to your own greatness: “Always walking straight home like the other good girls / Careful what you wish for, they can never be like you / It’s not the right thing, baby, but the right thing suits so few / Let’s take the other road, baby, ’cause it looks so good on you.”

The unshaking resilience of deep love is evident in the lyrics of the eight-and-a-half-minute long, “I Won’t Let You Go (Darling)”: “And even if it sounds crazy darling, I won’t let you go / And even if it don’t stop raining, darling, I won’t let you go / And even if the world’s burning darling, I won’t let you go.”

On the Babyface-produced “Stormy,” Jake Hoggard’s plaintive, reaching vocals bring home the idea that no hardship is impossible to bear with the right person by your side: “Baby, if you think there’s no way out / Somewhere the sun’s still shining /. . . It’s stormy now but the sun’s gonna shine again / Even the worst storms gotta end / We’re better if we weather it out / Together we’re never gonna fall.”

Talking about the album on their website, Hedley has noted that the inspiration for the music was drawn from the real lives and trials of each of the band members, all of whom consider each other family after almost a decade together.

“We’re brothers now and we feel far more unstoppable because we’ve been through a lot,” Hoggard said. “We’ve been really angry at each other, and unsure of our future together, but all of these elements make up the complexity of a family.”

This emotional honesty is evident throughout the record, and resonates long after listening. When on the track “We Are Unbreakable” Hoggard sings, “I’m beat but I can’t be broken / Knocked down but you gave me hope,” it is all too easy to relate to the truth of the words.

At once gut wrenching, uplifting, soulful, and boldly optimistic, Hedley’s Storms dares you to battle your inner demons to the death and rise to the challenge of simply being happy.

Track Listing:

01. One Life

02. Invincible

03. Heaven’s Gonna Wait

04. We Are Unbreakable

05. Young

06. Beautiful

07. Bullet for Your Dreams

08. Hot Mess

09. Stormy

10. Last Call

11. I Won’t Let You Go (Darling)

12. Hiding Place

13. Carry On

Nicolas Dromard as ‘Bert’ performs “Step In Time” with the National Tour Company of MARY POPPINS. ©Disney/CML. Photo by Joan Marcus.

Mary Poppins is quite possibly the most famous nanny in the world. After all, who doesn’t know that “just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down”? Or that when your excitement can’t be contained, the word to describe it is, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious”?

The Disney musical starring Julie Andrews blew onto the scene on a magical wind of change in 1964. Since then the character and storyline of Mary Poppins have captured the hearts of viewers young and old for over 45 years and have paved the way for many renowned fictional nannies (Fran Drescher’s Fran Fine and Emma Thompson’s Nanny McPhee – “I’m looking at you.”)

The story has also developed an exciting second life on the stage. It seems that no matter how many times you’ve watched the original film musical as a kid, the stage show is a fresh, exciting, and enchanting spectacle for people of any age. From Broadway to London, England, to the Netherlands, to Australia, and all across the United States, Mary Poppins, Bert, and the whole ensemble have danced and sung their way into millions of hearts in a timeless story whose themes capture everything from the uncertainty of the economy to emotional distance between parents and children and the power of the imagination to make a difference.

Rachel Wallace knows this very well. She spent hours as a child watching and re-watching the 1964 musical classic starring Julie Andrews about the kind but firm and ever-so-slightly magical nanny, as well as The Sound of Music, another classic film brought to life by Julie Andrews. Now that Mary Poppins: The Musical has arrived on stage in Canada for the first time, playing at Mirvish’s Princess of Wales Theatre in Toronto from November 12 to January 8, the young actress is ready to take on the mantle of the iconic role.

“It’s a huge privilege,” she said, speaking in the foyer of the Princess of Wales Theatre ahead of the show’s opening night on Saturday, November 12. “It offers a lot of learning opportunities, and it’s really a beautiful part. And I am learning a lot from it and [am] really enjoying getting to share the story every night.”

Cadence had a chance to speak with Wallace as well as Nicolas Drombard, the Ottawa-born, New York-based actor who plays Bert (the character first brought to life by Dick van Dyke). While Wallace is relatively new to the company, having joined at the beginning of the year as an understudy for the role of Bert before taking it on fully in the Toronto production, Drombard is no stranger to the show: “I was a part of the original Broadway cast for two and a half years. I was in the ensemble, and I understudied the role of Bert.”

Both actors were familiar with the source material for the stage musical, but for Drombard, it was a slightly different experience.

“I saw it once when I was a kid and I loved it,” he says. “The funny thing is I’m French. I started speaking English when I was seven; my first language is French. So I remember seeing the movie in French. So people quote the movie, and I’m like, “What? When did they say that? What are you talking about?”

He laughs and adds, “I haven’t watched it since because I don’t want to see it while I’m doing the show – because I don’t want to unconsciously copy or do anything. I just want to be able to bring my performance to the role.”

As for Wallace, she readily admits that Drombard’s method isn’t an option, given how much she watched the original as a child. “I’m sure that as many times as I watched it it’s like osmosis; it’s in my blood at this point!” But she has her own methods for getting a unique performance out of the role.

“I really tried to figure out why I love the character and what I love about the character, and how we’re similar and how we differ – and sort of build my role from that.”

For people who may have watched the film and are wondering why they need to come out to see it on stage as well, both actors say that the stage version is a different experience.

“We have characters from both the books and the movie and scenarios from both the books and the moments you love in the film,” Wallace says.

“So we’re sort of able to create a slightly different universe from the one you were used to in the film. And there still are a lot of very cartoon-esque characters in our production, so a lot of the energy that you get from the film, you still get in our productions because there are a lot of bright colours and big, quick, moving sets. So in that way you have an opportunity to experience something even more other-wordly when you see it live than you did on film.”

“People have this conception of the show, that it’s a kids’ show,” Drombard adds.

“Or they think it’s dated, and it’s not. It’s really an honest show that’s current. You know, it’s about a father who is disconnected from his family and his kids who are afraid of his losing his job at the bank, and it’s like, look around, what’s going on now? You know? So it’s really a current time which all ages will enjoy. Kids, adults, grandparents, and everybody will love the show, so put what you think the show is aside and come see it. You’ll love it.”

With that being said, go see the show and judge for yourself.

Mary Poppins: The Musical is playing from November 12 to January 8, 2012 at the Princess of Wales Theatre, 300 King Street West.

For tickets, show times and more details, click here.

Richard Greenblatt & Ted Dykstra in 2P4H. Photo by Rick O'Brien

“Mirvish has a hell of a season lined up,” noted the bearded theatregoer in the seat beside me.

He has a point. When the weather outside is in the single digits, there must be a hell of a good reason for theatre patrons to leave the warm comfort of home and central heating in order to line up at the Panasonic Theatre at 651 Yonge Street, even with the queue spilling out onto the curb – and there is one. 2P4H. No, it isn’t a secret code, or if it is, it must spell out success. 2 Pianos 4 Hands or 2P4H is the phenomenally successful musical comedy created by Ted Dykstra and Richard Greenblatt, arguably the most successful play in Canadian theatre history. After a fifteen-year run in nearly 200 cities around the world, the show is back for a final encore in Toronto, with an anniversary show in the city where the pair began their careers.

It’s a limited run – only from October 29 to November 20 – and this fact is made more obvious by the sight of scores of patrons crowding the Panasonic Theatre foyer, making the most of the engagement’s run at a space which appears much smaller than Mirvish’s other theatres, such as the Princess of Wales Theatre farther downtown. Inside the auditorium, however, the jet black interior acts like an acoustic jewellery box for the gem that is 2 Pianos 4 Hands.

The best way to describe the play is as a series of linked vignettes detailing the absurdity and comedy inherent in a lifelong obsession with music, or in this case, twin obsessions. With so much of the focus being on the music and the drama stirred up by 88 bichromatic piano keys, it makes sense that the art direction would call for simple, minimalist set pieces. The stage set is literally just two grand pianos set nose to nose with the piano stools on the far end of each and a pair of giant picture frames hanging in the background beside each piano. These serve as blank canvases upon which an array of lighting effects conveys location, emotion, mood, and the passage of time; and in a couple of hysterical scenes, the canvases are used to great effect portraying shadow-puppet versions of Dykstra and Greenblatt’s father and mother respectively.

Strung together between the musical numbers is an unfolding and mirroring story of two men, forced to practice piano for hours as boys, only to have a love for the music climb inside and take over every aspect of their beings as they grow older and begin to look for ways to make it as professional musicians.

The title of the play is 2 Pianos 4 Hands, but it might as well add, “And a Host of Other People,” because the story features multiple characters, all played by Dykstra and Greenblatt. These characters range from idiosyncratic music teachers to comically authoritarian parents to various weird and wonderful incarnations of themselves. In turns – often with switchovers of mere seconds – the two play whiny children, rivalrous teens, and cocky young men assured of their musical talent in the vacuum of the contest circuit, but unaware of the real test lying out in the uncaring world.

About halfway through the play, Dykstra’s father (played by Greenblatt, just as Dykstra played Greenblatt’s offstage mother) threatens to put a stop to the music that he once badgered his son to focus on, because he fears his son’s teacher is putting ideas in his head about becoming a professional musician instead of going to university and getting a degree “to fall back on.”

This scene is one of the surprisingly touching dramatic aspects of the play, which uses a form of humour that can easily be described as musical slapstick, yet which provides insight into the nature of family, relationships, and all-encompassing passions.

The play is a proven combination of unmistakable musical talent and pitch-perfect comedic timing, featuring a tapestry of classical music staples mixed in with irreverent pop melodies and rock n’ roll. In one scene of shared frustration with Chopin, the pianists switch from his “Rondo for Two Pianos, Four Hands in C Major” to Billy Joel’s “Piano Man,” then segue neatly into John Lennon’s “Imagine,” and follow improbably with the theme from The Young and the Restless.

Dykstra and Greenblatt share and switch up the acting and musical duties so fluidly that you’d think they were the same pianist if you weren’t looking at the stage. Their onstage chemistry crackles with fiery wit and clever, often innuendo-laden humour and speaks not of two actors in familiar roles, but two friends having a good time in front of an audience – and an appreciative one, at that. Applause broke out spontaneously after almost every scene, and by the end of the final performance (an impressive rendition of Bach’s “Concerto in D minor, 1st Movement”), the entire auditorium delivered a rousing standing ovation.

While delivering their bows at the end and after blowing a kiss to the balcony, Dykstra exclaimed, “Just wanted to say, we are so, so happy to be back.”

It appears that for Toronto theatregoers, the feeling is mutual.

Check out 2 Pianos 4 Hands at the Panasonic Theatre at 651 Yonge Street up until November 20, playing Wed-Sat at 8 p.m., and Wed, Sat, and Sun at 2 p.m.

For tickets and more information, click here.