London Fringe 2005: Parade and Performer Showcase

I worried that I was late for the parade this morning, but got caught up in it crossing the street at the corner of Richmond and King. (Most tantalizing pitch: “Want to see me half-naked?”) I’ve never had so much paper pressed into my hands in a minute and a half!

The showcase seemed well-attended, although I don’t know how much of the audience belonged to the general public and how many were Fringers. Despite the microphone it was hard to hear in the cavernlike market building, and most of the showcases were inaudible from where I stood (about 1/3 of the way across the mezzanine). Still, the troupers were… um… real troopers, and the event highlighted some acts I’d otherwise have missed and convinced me even more strongly that I wanted to see several I’d already chosen.

Most fun of all, though, was the Peanut Butter Picnic in the park put on by the P&J group, which the Dogs! and Jekyll and Hyde folks also came by for. (The neo-80s soundtrack was provided by Ruth’s Hat, courtesy of Ribfest.) It was a fun “guerrilla” event, but I agree with Amber and Stephanie (I think) that it would be a great addition after the showcase in general.

London Fringe 2005: The Cabaret of the Gilded Cage

Sexy, funny, touching, and scandalous, with a skein of music that’s just a little on the subversive side… exactly what a cabaret show should be. Roz McArthur and Geneviève Proulx have wonderful voices that mesh nicely on duets and really shine in their solo numbers.

Before the show an audience member beside me was mentioning the dearth of clowns in this year’s Fringe; afterward we agreed that this show has a great one in Roz McArthur. Proulx exhibits amazing technical prowess—and a particularly surprising comic turn of her own, giving grief to a real rat—but McArthur’s the one who captures the audience with her fervent performance.

Highly recommended.

I don’t like Idol

Despite my best efforts to avoid the program in every respect, in the last few days I’ve had two unrelated Canadian Idol experiences:

First, a guy named Shane opened at El Mocambo on Thursday night; apparently he was a finalist on the show a while ago, and his cadre of middle-aged female screamers were out in full force. He’s got a reasonable voice, I’ll grant that, but reeked of the lounge-lizard banter and vocal stylings that typify the program for me.

Second, this evening I received e-mail on one of my dormant accounts soliciting votes for a current contestant so she won’t be bumped from the show this week, complete with a logoed wallpaper image so I can be advertised at all day from my very own computer screen. Thanks, but no thanks.

Go John Go!

Friend and coworker John is competing in today’s Lake Placid Ironman.

Looks like a good first 5:30; I’m sure he’s immensely pleased to have the swim behind him (under his last posted training time, no less), and from the first split I think he’s pretty close to his speed target on the bike leg.

The bike is over, nothing left but to run. By my math his average speed over the last leg was just over 29 km/h, which must be pretty good if it let him overtake 200 people!

Missed the run split and the finish, but now the result’s there for all to see: 11:57:04, which sounds darn good to this couch potato. Congrats on m-dot #1, John!

Garden State

I just finished rewatching Garden State, as well as the combined commentary by writer/director/star Zach Braff and Natalie Portman. It’s a great movie: Braff’s got a real gift for storytelling, and he and Portman hit just the right notes developing their characters’ relationship.

It’s also a film I’d love to recommend to a particular friend, except for the fact that the core event of the story is far too close for comfort to an experience in her own life. Perhaps it’s just a matter of introducing it properly beforehand so it’s not a shock, or maybe I’m worrying too much on her behalf; either way, I haven’t mentioned it so far, and given the time of year I’m not going to broach the subject for at least a couple of months.

Day off

I do not really like vacations. I much prefer an occasional day off when I do not feel like working. When I am confronted with a whole week in which I have nothing to do but enjoy myself I do not know where to begin. To me, enjoyment comes fleetingly and unheralded; I cannot determinedly enjoy myself for a whole week at a time.