My New School Project. . .

Back-to-school time - I still get nostalgic for it.  Every autumn I itch to buy some new books, pens and lined notepaper.  My reading this year has been fairly dismal - I put it down to denial about yet another sign of becoming middle-aged.  Yes, I've known for a while now that I would need vari-focals and now that I've gone and gotten my eye test and bought a new pair of glasses - lo and behold - my reading mojo has returned. 

Since I work in a university library, I annually get caught up in the student frenzy of their new reading lists and it makes me yearn to get stuck into a new reading project.  When I saw that Michael Billington had written this book, I knew I'd found my challenge.

Even before moving to the U.K, I'd been reading Billington's theatre reviews in The Guardian for years and I was looking forward to his choices and the reasons behind them. As a regular theatre goer for most of my life, and having spent a year cramming for a drama comps for my now abandoned PhD, I thought I was fairly familiar with the canon. So imagine my initial shock when scanning the table of contents, I realized I'd only read/seen just a teeny bit over 50% of the plays on this list.  Clearly I'm missing out on some great drama; I've never even heard of Ena Lamont Stewart or Eugene Labiche, and haven't read any plays at all by Carlo Goldoni, Lope de Vega or Heinrich von Kleist (the latter three each showing up twice on Billington's list).

Scanning his choices which are arranged chronologically, I can also see myself having a good debate with him.  Love's Labour Lost over Much Ado About Nothing? Really?  Design for Living - how could that triumph over Private Lives?  Beckett's All That Fall is there but no Waiting for Godot or Endgame? Only one play by Tom Stoppard, even though it's my favourite of his - The Real Thing? No Frank McGuiness or Sarah Kane?  Hmmm.  I'm intrigued.

In his introduction, Billington writes, "as I drew up my initial list of plays, I had one basic idea in my mind: that the very best plays are rooted in their historical moment and yet have a sustainable afterlife. . . a great play is both an expression of its time and open to multiple reinterpretations."  I'd agree with this sentiment and only add that for me, a great play also has to read well on the page, even though I recognize that it can become something completely different and magical when seen on the stage or even while listening to a dramatic recording.  I still want to engage my imagination though through the written words.

It will be fun to revisit some old familiars and read something completely new and I'm sure that I'll enjoy Billington's essays on each of the plays on his list, which starts with The Persians by Aeschylus and ends with Mike Bartlett's King Charles III (both new to me). So, now I'm off to round up the Greeks. . .

Much Ado About Theatre. . .

I salute the genius who came up several years ago with the brilliant idea of broadcasting live theatre to cinemas around the world; I absolutely love it.  

Last night I saw the Royal Shakespeare Company's production of Much Ado, which they were calling Love's Labour's Won.  They used the same cast as in Love's Labour's Lost which I saw last month.  Lost was set in the summer of 1914 and at the end when the four men in uniform marched away to war, I couldn't help but think of the four men in Vera Brittain's Testament of Youth.  The men do come back however in Won which is set in 1918.  The stately home has been turned into a hospital where Beatrice has been nursing, and instead of hiding amidst the garden foliage, Benedick scampers behind first a curtain and then a large Christmas tree to great comic effect.  Overall, the whole modern concept worked very well - the two leads, Edward Bennett and Michelle Terry were sharp and witty, and the sets and costumes were gorgeous, as was the music by Nigel Hess.  I may need to purchase the CD as I do love a good Noel Coward pastiche and wouldn't it be grand to end every Shakespearean comedy with a Charleston?

On the darker side, I thought it was intriguing to suggest that Dogberry was suffering from shellshock; it made more sense of his character's language idiosyncrasies and nervous tics and Nick Haverson gave a very poignant portrayal. It was so moving at times however, that I couldn't laugh at the humour and felt very uncomfortable when the audience did.  Don John also had war injuries and walked with a crutch, which perhaps added to his envy of Claudio but this could have been further developed. 

But overall,  a very interesting idea that I think the RSC pulled off splendidly.

I'm certainly spoiled for live theatre in Liverpool too.  Last month I saw Willy Russell's Educating Rita at the Playhouse. This has to be the quintessential Liverpool play and I was quite proud to get all the local references although I only caught about 90% of the words in Leanne Best's Scouse accent.  

Next up is some Beckett at the Unity Theatre. 

And then more theatre on the big screen - two National Theatre productions that I'm really excited about.  Mark Strong is getting great reviews in Arthur Miller's A View From the Bridge. . .

. . . and if I'm going to sit through the full version of Shaw's Man and Superman, it needs to be with a mesmerizing lead.  Ralph Fiennes should fit the bill.

Returning to Shakespeare - this project looks intriguing.  Contemporary novelists will be retelling Shakespeare's plays in novel form.   The pairings are quite good.  Jeanette Winterson (The Winter's Tale), Margaret Atwood (The Tempest), Anne Tyler (The Taming of the Shrew), Harold Jacobson (The Merchant of Venice), Jo Nesbo (Macbeth - that should be quite intense!), Gillian Flynn (Hamlet - hmmm, not sure about that one),  Tracy Chevalier (Othello) and Edward St. Aubyn (King Lear).

I'm still trying to catch up with the recent Austen retellings.

They Might Be Giants. . .

I spent the weekend chasing after giants!

Royal de Luxe, an arts company from Nantes, France which specialises in street theatre, brought back their huge giant puppets to the streets of Liverpool.  They first came to the city two years ago, before I moved here, telling a story about a little girl whose father was lost in the Titanic.  I was really sorry to have missed them then so was definitely going to make the most of their next visit which this time revolved around a tribute to the First World War and the Liverpool "Pals", the men who volunteered for the city's battalions.  The marionettes came to Liverpool for five days and I was able to see glimpses of them over two of those. Here they are with some of the city's great landmarks in the background.

At first, due to work, I could only catch them sleeping.  Here is the grandmother, resting in the beautiful St. George's Hall.  While they may be stationary, they certainly aren't still.  They "breathe" quite loudly.

On the morning of Day Three, the little girl and her dog Xolo were found, also asleep, at the mouth of the Queensway Tunnel (which carries cars under the Mersey over to the Wirral).

I caught up with them again at lunchtime when they were taking a siesta in front of the Chinese Arch.  Liverpool has the oldest Chinatown in Europe.

Meanwhile, the Grandmother was taking a nap at Salthouse Docks, in front of the Echo Arena.

We were stationed in a great place for her afternoon walk through the city, just in front of a safe that was going to be opened to allow some letters to be read.  As the giants walk through the city, there are several areas with speakers where they stop and talk, unfolding an ongoing story.  Unfortunately, before Granny reached us, she had farted (yes, the giants do all sorts of bodily functions including drinking whiskey, belching and urinating) and a mechanical problem had caused her neck to snap.  She was delayed by over an hour (so alas, no story) and had to travel the rest of the way in her wheelchair. It was still thrilling to see.

You can see the orchestration of wires and people behind with the use of a crane to activate her movements. It's very physical work making these puppets move. Following this was a float with a full band playing rousing music. It was extremely festive and fun.

The next day, Granny had another nap, this time outside St. George's Hall.

Then she was wheeled through the streets in search of her granddaughter.  She's passing in front of  Lime Street train station here,  and in the next photo you can see the Anglican Cathedral in the background.  Aren't the crowds fantastic?  They estimate that more than a million people came out to cheer the giants on over the weekend.

The giants move relatively slowly, so with the routes to hand, it was easy to walk a few streets over and catch the little girl and Xolo on the move.  There's something very touching and innocent about the little girl's movements, while the dog has fun playing with the crowd.

All three puppets were making their way to the waterfront. Here the little girl stopped to wait for her grandmother.  This building behind her was once the headquarters of the White Star Line.  In 1912, crowds of people gathered outside it desperate to hear news of any survivors from the Titanic.

And then it was onwards towards the Three Graces where again, the crowds were massive.

We couldn't make it on Sunday when the girl and her grandmother embraced before getting into their respective beds, being transported onto a ship and sailing away down the Mersey.  But here's hoping that they'll be back soon - it really was an incredible and unusual spectacle.

Goodbyes and Hello. . .

I'm always sad when a bookstore disappears.  Earlier this month I read that the Annex location of Book City in Toronto was closing; I spent so many years browsing and buying books there when I lived in the area, mostly during my university years. It was open late and it was a favourite place to head to if I needed a break from studying. I could always find a interesting book that I'd not come across and they had great remainders.  Fortunately their other locations in the city are staying open, but the Annex branch was really special and I don't think that strip of Bloor St. West will ever be the same.

 

I'm not a huge fan of chain bookstores, but I've always had a soft spot for Waterstones and I'm crushed that the Bold Street branch in Liverpool is also closing at the end of this month. There are two Waterstones in Liverpool and this was definitely my favourite even if it was smaller than the Liverpool One main store. The building is gorgeous, the staff recommendations were a little more quirky here, and the Costa coffee shop on the first floor (second floor for North Americans) was a great place to read or knit sitting at one of the tables by the windows overlooking the busy street below and with great views of the architectural details of other local buildings. There was also a very nice cozy space around the corner from the till, tucked under a sloping opaque glass roof. I am really going to miss it. Like so many other bookstores, it's fallen victim to rising rents.

 

 

I had made a resolution not to buy any wool, clothes or books this year (so far I'm holding fast to the first two), but news of these stores' closures depressed me. I just wanted that lovely feeling you get after wandering around the aisles and tables with no purpose and picking up whatever captures your mood and imagination at the time. So I cracked and bought a lovely selection of books:  Longbourn by Jo Baker, Instructions For a Heatwave by Maggie O'Farrell, The Light Years: Cazalet Chronicles Book 1 by Elizabeth Jane Howard (a series I've wanted to read for a long time), The Library of Unrequited Love by Sophie Divry, translated by Sian Reynolds (the French are always so good at writing about the importance of books) and Train Songs, an anthology of poetry edited by Sean O'Brien and Don Paterson.

 

On a happier note, I'm eagerly anticipating the re-opening of the Everyman Theatre which kicks off its new season in March with Twelfth Night. This famous building has been undergoing renovations ever since I arrived in Liverpool and I can't wait to get inside and see a production.

 



In conjunction with the Playhouse Theatre, the spring/summer programme is looking very promising. I would liken the two (in Torontonian terms) to a nice blending of Soulpepper and the Tarragon; a nice sprinkling of classic and contemporary plays but a commitment to new work as well. Following the Shakespeare will be Arthur Miller's A View From the Bridge, the world premiere of Hope Place by Michael Wynne (the Everyman is located on Hope Street), Dead Dog in a Suitcase (and other love songs) which is a modern update by Carl Grose of John Gay's The Beggar's Opera (really looking forward to that one), and finally Betty Blue Eyes by Ron Cowan and Daniel Lipman, based on a short story (later adapted into a film) by Alan Bennett.  Now you can't get better than that! There are also several touring productions coming as well.

One of the nice things about following a company is getting to know the actors and seeing them pop up in different roles, so I'm very much looking forward to acquainting myself with the Everyman ensemble. And I theatre is one of the few things that is far cheaper in the U.K than in Canada (I think they are more highly subsidized).  The cost of an entire season was less than the two tickets I bought for my Mum and I to see Soulpepper's Parfumerie last month. I thought when I moved here that I'd miss the theatre scene in Toronto terribly, but it's very alive and well in Liverpool.

My Perfect Night at the Theatre. . .

Remember Edward Petherbridge who portrayed Lord Peter Wimsey in the BBC series?

He's one of a handful of British actors (well, there are scores actually) with such a smooth musical voice that if he were reading the shipping forecast, even I would find it mesmerizing.  And last night I got to see him live in Liverpool!

He's performing this week at the Unity Theatre with Paul Hunter in a brilliant two-hander called My Perfect Mind that recounts his experiences having a stroke just before he was due to play King Lear in New Zealand.

Alongside flashbacks to his childhood growing up in Bradford, reminiscences of his mother who had a stroke two days before he was born, and his deceased brother who worked as a policeman, there were also plenty of entertaining and wry observations about the crazy world of theatre with some particularly hilarious encounters with Laurence Olivier (Hunter plays all the secondary characters with enjoyably manic aplomb and the simple use of props).  We also get a taste of what his Lear would have been like as the audience are treated to plenty of scenes from the play,  including a surreal storm scene, after which Petherbridge (who flits back and forth between himself and Lear) turned to the audience and remarked something along the lines of: "This isn't the production of Lear that I wanted to be in. It's the Tate Modern on a really bad day." Which rather sums up the zaniness of the production that was mostly conducted on a stage tilted at a 45 degree angle. 

It was great fun and that voice has not lost any of Wimsey's drollness.  I absolutely loved it.

A Little Drama. . .

I've probably written this before, but it bears mentioning again - there is some really great theatre in Liverpool.  Today, I caught a matinee at the Playhouse of my favourite Moliere play, The Misanthrope. The translation is by renowned Liverpudlian poet and playwright Roger McGough ( he's to Liverpool what Dennis Lee is to Toronto) and in his very entertaining version, when Alceste decides to forsake flattery for plain speaking, he also stops speaking in verse unlike all the other characters who use couplets as a sign of their upper class:

From henceforth . . . No verse!
I will say it as I see it, I will say it like it is,
Plain prose, unadorned
No frills, no iambics, no alexandrines, no relentless rhythm, no fancy word juggling. No couplets with a rhyme bomb ticking away. Philinte, if I am to act according to what I believe I must speak as I live, truthfully, directly and a plague on those who would be discomforted.

This of course leads to several comic moments when he accidentally forgets, or he needs to stop and substitute a word because the best one to use is one that frustratingly does rhyme. It was a very clever and witty rendition (McGough has previously translated two Moliere plays) and a good, fast-paced production with a cheeky modern twist at the end, a sort of theatrical wink that I really loved.  It's on at the Playhouse until March 9th and I believe is touring the UK afterwards. It's well worth seeing.

There's a wonderful tradition in some British theatres (London's Royal Court does this as well), whereby the programme for a premiere also includes the entire play itself. It's a terrific idea; it serves both as a souvenir of the production, and allows you to own an affordable copy which in turn might encourage people to read more drama as literature in its own right, something I do regularly.  One of my favourite playwrights to both read and see performed is Alan Bennett, something of a national treasure in England and a writer I can always trust to make me laugh. He frequently explores a topic I'd not given much thought to and puts a deliciously cynical and intellectual twist on it.  I picked up a copy of his latest play People  which is a lovely antidote to the soap opera that is Downtown Abbey.  What happens to those huge historical manors when the families die out (or their wealth does) and they can't afford the upkeep?  Bennett posits a couple of options, from leaving it in the hands of the National Trust to renting it out to film crews involved in more sordid undertakings than what goes on at Highclere Castle.  And when a character called Brit is literally getting screwed in the background, well, the metaphoric possibilities are endless.

Currently on at the National Theatre in London, and starring Frances de la Tour and Linda Bassett, the production is one that will be broadcast live at cinemas around the world in April, including Liverpool's FACT.  And yes, I have booked my ticket - can't wait!

Burlington Bertie in Liverpool. . .

One of the things I've missed by not being in Toronto this fall is the annual Cabaret Festival in the Distillery District, especially as this year featured Sophie Milman, Jean Stilwell & Patti Roach, Brent Carver (he's so amazing on stage!) along with regulars (and favourites) Jackie Richardson, Patricia O'Callaghan and Mike Ross AND homages to the musical Oliver! and the music from Fellini films.  Arrrgh, I would have loved to have been there - the festival goes from strength to strength each year which is just fantastic.

I'm not entirely bereft of cabaret in Liverpool though.  Last night I went to the Unity Theatre for The Girl I Left Behind, a one-woman show performed by Jessica Walker that explored the women who worked as male impersonators in the Victorian era and the first part of the twentieth century.  As she pointed out at the beginning, there was no deliberate ruse; the women sang in their own voices and the audiences were never in doubt as to their gender, which brings up all sorts of interesting ideas about the purpose and appeal of these performers, some of whom were famous in their day.  Walker certainly alters her voice though, to great effect, as she switches from opera to 1920s Harlem, to a series of songs performed by various "Johnnies" representing men from a bashful teenager to a randy wealthy senior, desperate to find the girl.

But there was one song in particular that I was waiting for.  When I was a child, I was a huge fan of Julie Andrews (still am).  While other kids were singing along to Disney, I was incessantly playing the soundtracks to The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady and in particular, the movie Star, in which she plays Gertrude Lawrence.   I didn't actually get a chance to see the movie until I was in my twenties, but I knew that record backwards and forwards.  And my favourite track was a music hall number called "Burlington Bertie From Bow".  This was made famous by Ella Shields, born in 1879.  Her husband, William Hargreaves wrote the song for her in 1915 and she performed it for decades, all over the world.  She even shared the stage with a very young Julie Andrews who is said to have modelled her character in Victor/Victoria after Shields.  Ella kept performing the song, right into her seventies and Walker chose to represent her last performance in 1952, a tired and somewhat creaky Shields who at one point forgot her lines.  After she finished, Ella collapsed on the stage and died shortly after.  You can her her singing her famous song here.

My Weekend With Terence. . .

Friday night I went to see the new movie, My Week With Marilyn, directed by Simon Curtis, about a young assistant's infatuation with Marilyn Monroe during the shoot in England of The Prince and the Showgirl, written by Terence Rattigan, based on his play The Sleeping Prince.  Though the story is slight, I really enjoyed the movie, both for Michelle Williams' mermerizing performance, the atmospheric soundtrack, and for the wonderful cast of British theatrical royalty that peppers the film.  Kenneth Branagh has a large and juicy part as Laurence Olivier (and wouldn't it be ironic if this was the part that won him an Oscar?) and the great Judi Dench plays Sybil Thorndike.  But in one delightful cameo appearance after another, up pop Michael Kitchen, Dougray Scott (excellent as Arthur Miller), Simon Russell Beale and Derek Jacobi.  Tiny roles, but they kept me thoroughly engrossed. Dominic Cooper and Emma Watson round out the cast.

By coincidence, I had stopped off at Bay Street Video en route to the cinema - always a dangerous detour as I am a hopeless DVD addict.  And yes, I had to control myself and put back several new releases. But there was one I couldn't resist - The Terence Rattigan Collection, recently released by the BBC.  Terence Davies' new adaptation of Rattigan's The Deep Blue Sea was my favourite film at TIFF and so I HAD to buy this five disc collection of television adaptations of several of his plays from the last few decades. Ensconced on the sofa with a pot of tea and my knitting, I watched five of them this weekend, one after the other.  I just couldn't stop myself - the casts were just superb.  

I started with my favourite Rattigan play, After the Dance, one of the most moving plays I've ever experienced about the inter-war generation. Gemma Jones was excellent as Joan, the party-going wife who has to watch her husband succumb to a younger and idealistic Imogen Stubbs.   Then it was on to Ian Holm, Judi Dench (wonderfully acid and bitchy) and a young Michael Kitchen in The Browning Version.  Penelope Wilton gave every bit as good and poignant a performance as Rachel Weisz, in The Deep Blue Sea with Colin Firth here as her younger lover.  By this time I was quite emotionally drained, so thank god for the fun and farce of French Without Tears with a fetching Anthony Andrews (not far off his Brideshead Revisited days) and the lovely and flirtatious Nicola Paget (remember Elizabeth from Upstairs Downstairs?).  And you'll barely recognize a slim and dashing Michael Gambon as a befuddled sea captain. This was followed by Geraldine McEwan and Eric Porter in Separate Tables.   I have the 1958 Deborah Kerr and David Niven movie version in my collection, but the play was originally designed to have the same actors play the main characters in both story lines, and this is what occurs in the BBC version with McEwan and Porter also taking on the roles played by Rita Hayworth and Burt Lancaster. Terrific stuff - I still have 2 discs to go, including Sean Connery taking on Alexander the Great in Adventure Story. Honestly, this would make a great Christmas gift for any theatre buff on your list or a fan of any of the above actors.  I'm so thrilled the BBC is going through their archives and releasing this gems - the picture quality of everything I've seen so far in this collection has been as excellent as the acting.

Now I suppose I should round out my Rattigan revivial and rent The Prince and the Showgirl, a film I've never seen.  Actually I'm thinking a Marilyn Monroe marathon might soon be in the works.

A Perfect Pairing. . .

Caught a wonderful production of Private Lives at the Royal Alexandra Theatre this week, directed by Richard Eyre.  This is one of my favourite plays and I've seen a couple of other Canadian productions, all good in their varying interpretations.  Brian Bedford played a very world-weary Elyot in 2001 at Stratford against a sophisticated Seana McKenna.  I adored a CanStage production a few years before that with Albert Schultz (very bemused) up against a deliciously sleek and snarling Brenda Robbins - I still remember her arm coming out of the pile of cushions at the start of the second act and the use of a fountain on the famous balcony scene was a splendid touch. 

I equally loved this pairing of Paul Gross and Kim Cattrall. Gross was a sexy, impatient and exasperated Elyot, almost Cary Grant-like, which was perfectly matched to Cattrall's Amanda, alternating cool blondness with raging physicality.  And let's face it - she looked amazing in those sleek gowns and even just wrapped in a towel.  The set was creative and original, especially in the second act, with its interesting use of circular and goldfish motifs and the actors really used the space well and to comic effect.  I think actors in a Coward play often rush through the text, but not these two who found interesting intonations in the words, thus allowing me to listen to very familiar lines as if they were completely fresh.  Great supporting work from Anna Madeley as Sybil (one of my pet peeves with this play is Sybil is often far too shrill - not in this production) and Simon Paisley Day as Victor (again, not played as a caricature, just an ordinary man completely unable to understand Amanda's vibrant personality). A few accent slips now and then, but a thoroughly enjoyable production.  It's on until the end of October and well worth the ticket price!

TIFF Part 2: Two Successful Literary Adaptations. . .

The last two films I saw at TIFF were completely different in style, but both were literary adaptations about how deeply and profoundly love can linger or shake us to our core.  And both were very enjoyable to watch.

My favourite film of the festival so far has been Terence Davies' adaptation of Terence Rattigan's moving play The Deep Blue Sea, starring Rachel Weisz, Tom Hiddleston and Simon Russell Beale. Weisz plays Hester, a woman who has left her husband and comfortable lifestyle after falling in love with a brash, alcoholic pilot whose best days were during the war. They live in a shabby flat and at the beginning of the film, she has just attempted suicide, caught between a lover who no longer is in love with her, and a well-meaning husband who she simply can't love or return to. I was completely absorbed in this film from the start - the performances, particularly by Weisz who is beautifully vulnerable and raw, the gorgeous set design that captures all of the post-war bleakness and especially the amazing score.  Davies always knows how to use music to enhance his storytelling whether it's the soaring, emotional Violin Concerto Op.14  by Samuel Barber that he uses for the dramatic scenes (I had to go out and buy myself a CD right after the movie), or the sentimental songs sung by crowds in a pub or for comfort in a bomb shelter.  I completely teared up when the the couple was dancing to Jo Stafford's rendition of "You Belong to Me".  And what a treat to have Davies there, along with Weisz and Hiddleston, for the Q & A following the screening.  He's such a firecracker - jumping eagerly forward on the stage to answer questions, quoting Shakespeare and generally excited to be there, having shot this on a very small budget. And here's Weisz and Hiddleston (sorry for the blurred photo - I think I was a bit excited too!)

The next night, I saw the Chilean movie Bonsái , directed by Cristián Jiménez and based on Alejandro Zamba's novella of the same name, which I had read a few years ago and admired. It's the story of a young man's first love, intensified by the books the couple reads in bed at night (despite the two having lied to each other early in the relationship about having read Proust). This relationship is retold a decade later in the novel he is writing, while pretending to his new girlfriend that it's the manuscript of a famous writer that he's just typing up. Proustian time and memory was certainly a major theme throughout,  but there was also a wistful lightness to this film that was charming and humourous while also quite sad at times.  It's difficult to capture the internal importance of literature and the act of reading on celluloid, but this movie tried to explore, and generally successed at capturing some of its essence. I recommend both it and the novella.

Traipsing Around the U.K.: Hull

And then it was off to Hull. Now this city gets a bit of a raw deal. It's true that it's pretty much on the road to nowhere, and it was voted Britain's crappiest town to live in a few years ago. But it also happens to be my birthplace and since I left at nine months and haven't been back since, it seemed time to make a pilgrimage.

I don't know what I was expecting to feel; nothing jarred any memory whatsoever. So I did what I usually do when visiting a new city - walked the streets, looked at architecture, grabbed a latte, popped into the art galleries and museums and browsed through a bookstore. I was only there for a few hours but it was definitely worth the trip. So for all those naysayers, here are some nice things about Hull.

1. You are greeted at the train station by a statue of Hull's most famous poet and librarian - Philip Larkin.

2. It has a really beautiful church - Holy Trinity - which is 700 years old and the largest (in area) parish church in England.

3. You can get some pretty good fish and chips in the city and the waterfront is in the process of being revitalized.

4. The Ferens Art Gallery is lovely. One of their exhibits was of David Hockney's massive painting Bigger Trees Near Warther, made up of fifty separate canvases.

5. There's a tiny street called The Land of Green Ginger said to be the inspiration for Winifred Holtby's novel of the same name.

My tie-in book purchase was a play called Toast by Richard Bean, who grew up in Hull. It's an amusing and slightly surreal story set one night in the canteen of a Hull bread factory as its assortment of workers take various breaks during their night shift. They have an extra large order to fulfill, the ovens are overheated, and tempers are rising just as much as the troubling batch mixed with too much yeast. I very much enjoyed reading it, as much for the humour as the dialect; it would be lovely to see this staged or listen to a recording, if only to imagine what I might have sounded like if I'd stayed and grown up there.

The Summering Up. . .

I'm back. It's been a hot, muggy summer (never my favourite season), and I've spent a good chunk of it lying lazily on my couch, under the ceiling fan, watching DVDS in the dark. Too sluggish to blog, I'm afraid, although I've also been busy with all the various festivals in and around the city. Highlight of the Toronto Jazz Festival was seeing the Dave Brubeck Quartet, the master just as nimble on the keys as ever - at nearly ninety! Best production at the Shaw Festival this summer was Shaw's own The Doctor's Dilemma, though I also very much enjoyed their production of Kurt Weill's One Touch of Venus, even though the lead was miscast. Lots of great cabaret at the Toronto Fringe Festival this year too which was a terrific addition to their usual fare.

And this summer was the last season of Cinematheque at its old location before moving next month to the Bell Lightbox with its much higher movie prices and new policy of letting food into the theatres (which means the talking and cell phones and texting will follow, alas). It's the end of an era and I'll miss the old place, the regulars and the reverence the audience had for the films themselves. I feel it will all change now into something resembling your average noisy multi-plex. I'm rather pissed that there are now two membership tiers (you have to make a $300 donation in order to get the usual $6.00 member price for films; my second tier membership - which has doubled in price - now gives me the privilege of buying tickets at $9.00 a pop!). I certainly won't be going there 3-5 times a week any more, which I'll really miss, but prices and principles will prevail.

This summer, the unexpected surprise was the Akira Kurosawa retrospective. I had never seen a film of his before, thinking they were all about samurai, but having now seen 18 of his movies, I'm in awe of his scope of subject matter and the longevity of his career. My favourites were two of his stylish gangster movies - 1949's Stray Dog and 1960's The Bad Sleep Well; the latter has been called his "Hamlet", and while there isn't a play "to catch the conscience of the King" there's certainly an unforgettable cake! I'll also be buying Criterion's Eclipse set of Post-war Kurosawa Films, all of which I saw this summer - and want to rewatch - for their interesting insights into a Japanese society trying to recover after the war. The set features his version of Dostovesky's The Idiot which I read in preparation for the film and found to be a fascinating adaption, true to the spirit and rough plot of the novel but rather scary and intense in its striking but violent imagery. I saw his famous movie Ran as well, but as much as I admired it, I think I prefer the earlier black and white films, although a later movie - 1975's Dersu Uzala - was so heartbreakingly beautiful and touching, I'm not sure if it wasn't my favourite after all.

My summer reading has been modest, given that turning on a lightbulb most nights has been unbearable for the extra heat it gives off. But I'm back in the groove now and my most recent reads have all been ambitious fictional looks at the turn of the 20th century. C by Tom McCarthy is an intelligent, multi-layered novel about the science behind early radio and communications networks and contains a wonderful chapter describing the aerial aspects of the First World War. Aurorarama by Jean-Christophe Valtat is my first venture into contemporary steampunk, but I loved this political adventure story set in the utopian city of New Venice, complete with suffragettes, wicked magicians, mysterious dreams, a Polar Kangaroo and even the odd zombie. It was like an adult version of Philip Pullman with lots of clever word play and northern lore. And this weekend I started a wonderful novel about the inevitable changes that occur on the island of Guernsey, through two world wars and their aftermath. The Book of Ebenezer Le Page by G.B. Edwards is a touching and very funny tale narrated by an elderly, lonely and opinionated man, nostalgic for a way of life that has disappeared with the advent of tourists and television on his beloved island. It's the perfect book to end the summer with.