I used to go see a lot of improv shows down at Granville Island (back when that lady who went on to be on Corner Gas was there). I was always the neurotic guy who laughed while rubbing his sweaty palms together and secretly hoped never to be taken up on stage and humiliated -- therefore going to see improv was always a battle between hilarity and a panic attack for me. It's the same reason why I avoid street performers. I'm terrified that they'll pull me up and make me hold a chair while they attempt to stand on it and swallow a flaming sword while juggling.

Maybe you're not like that, though. Maybe you love going to see improv and yelling things out and going on stage and participating and helping people swallow swords. If so, then I commend you. And you might be interested in UBC Improv's Impulse 2010, where "top university improvisers from around Canada and beyond will descend on the UBC Vancouver Campus for four days of Improv magic. For three nights, teams of your favourite UBC performers and representatives from places both exotic and English-speaking will compete for a chance to advance to the final night."

Preliminary Rounds: March 3rd, 4th, and 5th - 7pm - Scarfe 100 - $5
Finals: Saturday, March 6th - 7pm - Scarfe 100 - $5

Pi Theatre and Rumble Productions bring one of Haruki Murakami's books, after the quake, to life on the stage for the next two weeks at Studio 16 on 7th ave near Granville St. When I learned the Canadian premiere of this adaptation was opening in Vancouver, I was pretty excited. I had read two Murakami books (liked one, didn't like the other), but I picked up after the quake in preparation and was quickly drawn into the stories, all of which take place after the Kobe 1995 earthquake.

The play is based on the last two short stories in the collection--"super frog saves tokyo" & "honey pie". Frank Galati, who adapted for the stage, brilliantly combines the two stories into one seamless narrative, drawing connections between the two and paring them in a way Murakami didn't in the book, but which works well. The stageplay stays true, however, to the nature of both stories, while adding a third dimension in the cross-over between them.

I hadn't been to a play in a really long time. As in I can't even remember the last time I saw living, breathing actors on stage in front of me instead of projected, cold onto a screen. The experience is so different, I had forgotten what a thrill live theatre can be. Especially good live theatre. But after the quake isn't just good live theatre--it's excellent, delicate, surreal, hilarious, and thought-provoking. It makes me want to go see more plays in this city.

I've been well aware of Vancouver's burgeoning neo-burlesque community for awhile now, as our city has been gaining some international renown for the scene. Despite a personal proclivity to attend local theatre for free, my closest experience to real burlesque was dealing with an over-champagned and over-sarcastic sister at an overpriced evening of cabaret-tourism at the Moulin Rouge in Paris. That counts, right?

Over the last few years local burlesque has been moving out of the underground; shows have been staged at The WISE hall since the mid-90s, but it's only with the 2006 establishment of the Vancouver International Burlesque Festival that the scene really reached the local theatre "mainstream." Shine: A Burlesque Musical has received major media hype and began its 10-day run on August 12th. With the existence of a full length neo-burlesque musical in a theatre on Granville Island, playing just down the street from Altar Boyz, I figured it was finally time to experience this local renaissance of subversive sexuality. Oh, and nipple tassels.

If you've followed my writing here on the site, you might have realized that I'm both highly cynical and just a tad geeky. Shockingly enough, the women in my life still seem to respond rather positively; my sister offered to come and co-teach some Shakespeare during my recent practicum, my girlfriend didn't laugh when I proposed to her this Christmas. The secret? Well, bribery plays a big role. For example, about a month ago I accepted tickets to review the latest Arts Club production of Les Misérables. Last week, under a pile of readings for school (and a need to score points? shut up), I sent the sister and the fiancée down to the Stanley Industrial Stage in my stead. What follows is a guest review from the latter, Courtney Evanchu...

Being an avid musical theatre fan but having not yet popped my Les Mis cherry, I reveled at the chance to attend the Arts Club Theatre's interpretation this past Wednesday in the company of my future sister-in-law (an experienced fan who by comparison may be the Les Mis 'bicyclette de village'...) [Ed. note: powerful use of metaphor here, honey.] Until now, my knowledge of the hailed musical was limited to that haunting decal of young Cosette, the soaring melody of "I dreamed a dream...", and the consistent claims that Les Misérables is one of the greatest musicals of all time. Would the latest local production live up to the hype?

I had a basic concept of what Tony n' Tina's Wedding consisted of: you buy a ticket to participate in a wedding and become a part of the ceremony and reception, all while witnessing the chaos that ensues between the cast.

Well I arrived with my guest at the beautiful St. Andrew's Wesley Church on the corner of Burrard and Nelson, slightly confused as to why all the church doors were closed. We decided to wait it out for a bit and soon guests in wedding attire began to show up. An old man in a long black trenchcoat, shades, and top hat approached me with his cane frantically waving in the air, "Is this the wedding for Tony n' Tina!? Do you know when the wedding is starting!?" I explained from the sign I had just seen that the show began at 7:00 p.m. and doors were at 6:30. He walked away and began pestering the other guests making me realize he was one of the actors. I turned to my friend and said, "I don't think I can do this."

The last six months of my life have been huge. Every week spent on my B.Ed out at UBC has felt a tad more frustrating, and my conviction/delusion that what I really need to do is write has only strengthened with each passing powerpoint presentation. At 25, I feel like I'm going through a smoker's midlife crisis... but neither my mother nor fiancee "appreciate" those "type" of jokes. Despite the stresses (or as a reaction to them? ;)), I also popped the question to my girlfriend over the Christmas break; 'wedding plans' can now be added to the official list of things I've procrastinated on along with those lesson plans, concert tickets, career choices, theatre reviews, and, uh, adulthood?

Since beginning my extended practicum, I haven't had much time to reflect on anything other than table-shading in Microsoft Word or when and when not to correct grade 8 sentence fragments. I'm still holding on to the possibility that I'll find 'fulfillment' in the halls of an East Van school, but if there's one thing that I do know it's that I've had no time to write. When the Arts Club sent me the word that their latest production would be opening just days before I was scheduled for spring break, I found myself with the possibility of free time and an easy excuse to type.

After doing some research (full disclosure: hitting a hyperlink) and realizing that The Real Thing was gifted British playwright Tom Stoppard's 1984 Tony Award-winning meditation on love, marriage, and the role of the writer, I figured that I'd basically been fated to check this one out (that or I'd read one too many grade 10 reflections on Romeo and Juliet.) So what is the "real thing", Mr. Stoppard? Is it love? Is it art? Should I chase the muse and pursue my dreams of becoming a professional scribe, as paradoxical as that may sound in 2009? Or, would I be better off continuing to hone my skills in the classroom; amping my ability to ignore the emotional whims of small children, read minds, and manipulate motivation, the touchstones of any successful long-term relationship?

While it obviously couldn't provide any easy answers to those essential questions about love and art, this near-perfect production gives voice to one of the most compelling and intelligent meditations on life I've ever seen on stage...