The Annekenstein Monster

A few days ago, I thought it would be fun to ask a handful of stupid questions to any Facebook friends who wanted to answer them.  I didn’t know what the questions would be, before I started writing them, or that they’d even be necessarily stupid.
What I’m saying is: I didn’t put a lot of thought into this.

I was expecting maybe two or three people agreeing to do it.
Turns out there was a pile of interest in participating.  I had to cut off requests to play after I got about 20 responses.

As a result, it took me far too much energy and effort than I anticipated to compile the answers and results, which I have included below.
As a means of anonymity, I have not included the names of those who responded, but there might be answers that allow people to figure out who is who.

Lots of great answers, though. So that made it worth it.

Thanks to everyone who took time to respond.

• I would be slightly more tall than I am right now, because that seems like fun.
• Preferably somewhere betwixt pretty tall and imposing tall
• Reasonably tall.
• The height I am now, so my pants will not be too short.
• A few good ones.
• I would like to be many tall. More tall than I am now (appreciate this follows the incorrect usage of the word “tall”)
• I am my ideal height.  Although I would like to be 100 feet tall for  a while, maybe a few hours.
• All of the tall or no tall at all.
• 6’2
• not a tall (I enjoyed the cleverness of this answer)
• Just the tall I am
• I think I’d be a regular tall amount. Like, 72 inches.
• As tall as I was when I was 10 and would wear my roller skates in the house when my parents weren’t home. I’ve never felt taller in my life. (I want to see a short film based on this answer)
• whatever gets me two hand dunking easily.
• I would be tall enough to reach all the things from upper shelves and no longer be forced to rely on the kindness of strangers at the Superstore. Also, I think I would have a killer bod if I were same weight but six inches taller.
• 6 foot 2
• 6 foot 2
• Who’d want to be tall at all? Air is too thin up there.
• I would probably be third tallest. Enough to earn a medal, but not too much to be boastful. (like this one as well)
• 6’8″
• 5ft7
• 6.4ft

• Cool.
• This dog Is me|
• Sorry, fresh out of shits to give.
• Is this a question?
• What is a ‘a sad beginning to a short story’, Alex. (like how this response provides the question to my non-question answer. Very Jeopardy, indeed)
• There is no question. I hope the poor puppy finds some friends
• Sounds familiar.
• Hey puppy… get out of the forest.
• not a question
• good luck puppy (I like this answer)
• Pick up that ball of love and bring it home.  
• This is not a question, but a statement. I feel bad for the puppy, though. I’ll help it out.
• You made that up.
• not sure the question, but we rescued a six yr old dog 3 yrs ago so I guess the answer is yes I would.
• This is why people have cats.
• I hope it finds what it’s looking for.
• this is not a question
• Forest puppies grow up to be coywolves. Beware of puppy dog eyes.
• That’s not a question, although it does raise a number of further questions.
• That’s not really a question
• Aren’t we all?
• Leaving it there

3)   Which number do you like more, 6 or 14?  And, if so, why?
(The majority chose 14

• 14, because it seems to have its shit together
• 14 is the number of Hockey player former narcotics enthusiast Theo Fluery whom I love, so 14
• 14, because I like anything with a 4.
• 14 cause it is 2 larger than a dozen.
• I don’t like either more.
• Depends…if it’s dollars, I prefer 14. If it’s the interest rate, I prefer 6 (really hedging your bets there. I like it!!)
• 6.  It’s just simpler. Six is a great word.  I would name a child Six, never Fourteen.  Also, I lived in Toronto for a while, and mostly liked it.
• 6… because 14 is a jerk.
• I love all my numbers equally(but between you and me my fav is 100045)
• 14 is more numberier (I think that is a Number Wang!!)
• 14 I think 14 is sexier, not sure why and no I’m not a pedo. (this answer got dark pretty quick at the end there)
• Six. Nobody likes teenagers that much.
• 14, because it’s closer to 17.
• 14, only because I can think of more Leafs with that number than sixes (although six is probably closer to the number of Leafs fans who can remember them winning the Cup)
• Even numbers make me uncomfortable.
• 14, because it’s 7 two times, and I love the number 7, so it’s twice the love, and love is always the answer. Or so I’ve heard.
• 6..i hate complex numbers
• 14 is probably where I’m emotionally stuck so I’ll take. Wah.
• I’m still thinking about that poor puppy. (this made me laugh)
• 6, less to write
• 14 because it’s more comfortable
• 14. It seems like it would win in a fight, and I respect that. (I think six would be quicker, but 14 would have more powerful blows, if they could land)

• I know right?
• Years of Parental Neglect mixed with an ever dwindling societal safety net have left him angry. Also Bacardi Makes him mean
• I dare you to ask him.
•  I don’t know, I wouldn’t wanna be him.
• I know. Like, what’s his *deal*.
• I’m not sure…he’s always been a bit off
• Oh, he’s not so bad.
• He got all of the tall, from question 1. Wait… does this questionnaire grant wishes… like a genie?
• Rob this is 2016 you can’t ask that question
• he thinks he’s some big
• Narsasistic personality disorder, it’s my arm chair diagnosis for a world rampant with a-holes.
• Little big man syndrome.
• He’s alright once you get to know him.  
• *that* guy? Doesn’t know the difference between geocaching and Pokemon go.
• Entitled jerk, total prick. And you should hear him in meetings….fuck that guy. (I think we all hear that guy in meetings)
• His arrogance disguises his feelings of inferiority.
• he’s a dick. he craves attention. i wish throat punching was legal
• http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2402200/
• I think his mother’s not well, let’s give him space. He’ll come around. (now I feel bad)
• I have no idea, but I wish he’d get his s#it together!
• I think he’s like Americans and British humour; he just doesn’t get it.
• he’s not in my friend circle, and never will be.

• I would have to imagine that a tour of a sausage factory would be rather boring; just a bunch of people in white jumpsuits handling meat. I suppose in olden times it might have been disgusting, but i think it’s probably an idiom lost to time.
• As Maureen stared into the percolating sunset, a deep swell of ennui as thick and soupy as the soupiest thick soup you ever tasted, whirled inside her, making her feel sad and also vaguely hungry, hungry for more – a snippet from my upcoming Novella “Whom and How: A Tale Told Through Love’
• I went to a strip club on a Tuesday night. Strippers were kind of lame, so a friend put a $20 bill in his mount and laid on stage. The stripper strutted toward him, bent down, mounted his face, and grabbed the bill with her vagina. I love Ottawa.
• Once upon a time there three Pokemon Hunters who wanted to evolve an Evee but couldn’t find enough balls to catch them. So they went down to Victoria Park and ran around in circles for hours and hour but with all the lures they wasted every ball the managed to get at the stops and wasted nothing but time.
• Steve started it. He contacted Bill and they began their annual conversations at a music festival, incognito thanks to Rastafarian wigs, sunglasses and leather vests. Eventually they invited others: Jeff, Arianna, Mark. Carly tried it, hated it, left. This year Meg’s shoulders featured elaborate temporary tattoos, and Rudy showed off pierced nipples, a tie-dyed skirt slung low on his hips.
• I took my cat to the vet today after he was whining and crying. It turns out that he had a U.T.I. He’s better now, but still groggy and appears to still be under the effects of the sedation.
• My mom cut my hair until grade six, when a substitute teacher used my haircut as an example of what the Beatles haircuts looked like.  I was totally embarrassed, and demanded a professional cut.  I wanted to be cooler than the Beatles.
• Seriously… if this questionnaire grants wishes… I have a few. Is it 3 wishes or is that only an in the lamp genie kind of thing? For my first wish, I want all of the tall, as previously mentioned. For my second wish… well… I’m feeling frivolous… please feed that damn puppy and give it a good family. Who ever said that Draper doesn’t  care? What to do for my final wish? Oh right… I’m supposed to be telling a story. Man, I wish that this part would be over with so I could grab a coffee. NO! Wait! That wasn’t my final…
• Gendal was beggar, one who didn’t take shit from anyone. One day Gendal was begging on 24th street when 9/11 happened. Thats all i got
• i always wanted to go to space.   Never thought they’d take me, yet  I applied about ten times for the mission to Alpha Centauri 8 out of some sense of dogged optimism. Last week I got the call.   I  am mostly ballast for the ship but  what the hell?    Just looking around the cockpit for the radio. Theres the button….OH SHIT
• How about the time I went to NY and everyone warned my to be careful while I was there and while I was gone my roomie got embroiled in a drug scam/murder and when I came home the south American cartel kept showing up looking for my roomie. Yes it was scary.
• I can’t tell you any stories… I don’t know how secure and anonymous my answers will be. Like, it won’t end up on the Internet will it?
• At the pharmacy this evening the friendly woman behind the counter offered Scarlet and Julian each a piece of Dubble Bubble (she then made a notation on a sheet of paper where she was obviously tracking numbers of gum going out – presumably to pay for it at the end of her shift, but what do I know?). They thanked her and we left each of them unwrapping their gum and beginning to chew it. I’m not sure Julian has had gum before and he seemed quite content to chew on half of it while holding the other half in his hand. They happily chewed away trying to blow bubbles while we made our way home, until at one point Julian reached over to me with his half of still un-chewed gum and said “Here Mom, you have this.”. So I took it from him and instinctively popped it into my mouth and began instantly to chew it. It was at this moment I realized my mistake. He had only intended for me to hold it. He cried and screamed and I attempted to smoosh it back into a square shape to appease him. It didn’t work. The only agreement we could come to was that I would piggy back him the entire way home and then work on getting the gum back into shape. By the time we made our way home he informed me I could keep it because “It was really gross.”.
• a few yrs ago I thought I shit myself during a prostate exam, and I couldn’t stop apologizing for doing so. I didn’t though, it was the gel the doctor uses. We were both glad when appointment was over.
• There was once a steaming pile of poop on the floor. I was asked to clean it up. After carefully weighing my options, I agreed to the task – but first made an agreement that one day I would ask for a return favour.
• There’s a well in the woods that fell to ill use and eventually became forgotten. Jim thought it a good hiding place, so when he heard Angie count to ten, he jumped in. Undiscovered by the girl, and shortly after by a search party, Jim lived for almost three years by drinking muddy water and eating algae from the walls.
• see 6
• Once up a time there was an angry blue jay. He lost all his head feathers. That’s why
  he was angry. They grew back. He’s OK now.
• ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, thought Jeremy, but this board with a nail in it will teach Isaac to keep his big mouth shut. Isaac, known for his quick temper, thought wisely to bring his dad’s hunting knife with him. When the news of their encounter broke out the next day, no one was surprised that the police quickly apprehended both the children.
• I’m buying a house because my idiot landlord moved in a drug dealer and won’t kick him out (I know that’s not 60 words. I’m a baker not an author)
• The two best places to meet people in PEI are the Farmers Market and Victoria Row in the summer. As a result, my nieces from Boston think I must know everyone on PEI. You just dont meet people like that in Boston. Walking down Victoria Row one lovely evening, we encountered Bill McFadden who went down on one knee and recited Romeo’s balcony speech to my niece Isabelle.
• One day a little boy walked into a saloon. It was filled with all sorts of criminal scum. The little boy asked the room if anyone was brave enough to duel him. The criminals laughed, but none spoke up. The boy asked again, but this time no laughter. The men stood silently, looked round at eachother, hoping someone else would speak up. Finally, after some time had passed, the boy called them all pussies, walked out of the saloon, barred the swinging doors and burned the saloon down.

• I don’t believe in the death penalty, in any way shape or form.
• I would say any man over six feet tall is pushing his luck (duly noted)
• At last resort, yes.
• As long as the can float up in the clouds… What if jets run into them, but they will run into the dead bodies too so if they try to avoid jets it is best to let them live.
• Yes
• No…just locked up. Or better yet, leave them alone!
• If they came down from their cloud, and started attacking us, then I think we could justify killing them.  But if we went up there and murdered them, then we’d obviously be the assholes.  Not sure who was at fault in the Jack incident.
• Nah… no killing. I think that we should take a page from Toupee Trump’s book and build a wall… but not just any wall… a mirrored wall, so that them murderous behemoths can see how ugly they are. Yep. Sorry to blow up your inbox. I’m at work and sneaking in my answers between supervisor glances. 😛 To be continued.
• No I think we should adapt, and for once not make a big deal out of a small bean
• need a bigger sample than one to determine class characteristics.  I wouldn’t assume theyre all bad
• If they were the snacking on human variety like in Jack and the Bean Stalk might be wise to make a preemptive strike.
• No. Well… maybe. Depends on what part(s) of “humanity”.
• I don’t think it matters what I think. They would be murdered regardless.
• if they are harmful to us? Then hell yeah, hot water and baby oil ’em to death.
• If humanity kills giants who are harmful, how will other giants learn that they shouldn’t harm humanity? They will see us as murderers deserving ill treatment. I say kill the giants with love bombs.
• Only if they make contact with us or vice versa.
• yes i do. however the entire attack should be made into a movie.  Michael Bay only
• Back off on the prescription drugs, Rob. I mean giants in clouds? What are you on about anyway?
• not if I’m the third tallest
• How come the giants never fell through the clouds? There would be alot of craters if they did!
• Maybe they could be rehabilitated.
• I would not believe they should be murdered, however, I would want them to be murdered.

Random Respondent #3

Most Like: Andrew Garfield

Least Like: Beyonce

Random Respondent #4

Look like John Candy and don’t at all look like Shania Twain


RandomRespondent #5

Most Like: Jason Bateman

Least Like: Moon-Geun Young

Random Respondent #6

Most Like: Toby Maguire. Least Like: Steve Buscemi

Random Respondent #7

Matt Rainnie once called me PEI’s Mark Ruffalo, still not sure if that was a compliment.  I look nothing like Orlando Bloom.

Random Respondent #8

I think that I look the most like this guy, right here:

But I definitely don’t look like this guy, right here:

Least Like:

Random Respondent #11

I’ve been told I looked Diana ish in the 80’s. but I don’t really see it.

Least Like: well I really don’t look like Marilyn Manson.


Random Respondent #12

Kiefer Sutherland, Jim Gaffigan… something like that.

Random Respondent #13

Most Like: Angelina Jolie http://www.forbes.com/lists/2010/53/celeb-100-10_Angelina-Jolie_T5SH.html

Least Like: Angelina Jolie https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/nov/29/angelina-jolie-pit-i-am-on-fire-on-the-inside

Random Respondent #14

I used to get Regis philbin yrs ago, which was weird cause I was in my 20’s and 30’s and he is 100. I’m now 43 and haven’t heard this in yrs so one of us must have levelled off.

I think I least look like Kate Upton.

Random Respondent #15

Most Like: Pamela Adlon (once described as a sexy smurf)

Least Like: Gwyneth Paltrow (tall, thin, blond, vegan, ethereal


Random Respondent #16

Most Like: Matt Lucas from “Little Britain”, if I shaved.

Least Like: Bai Ling

Random Respondent #17

Ewan McGregor. Cher. You don’t need a hyperlink to imagine either 😉


Random Respondent #18

I’ve been told I resemble a young David Bowie

never been mistaken for Mickey Rooney

Random Respondent #19

Most Like: Hugh Laurie

Least Like: Scarlett Johannsen


Random Respondent #20

I would like to think I look like Audrey Hepburn (or I did 20 years ago)

I don’t think I look like Matt Smith at all

Random Respondent #21

Most Like: Daniel Craig (my phone won’t let me paste links for some reason)

Least Like: Whoopi Goldberg

• My twenties were a time of never ending aghastment, For instance 8/11, also of note, every date I have ever been on
• I have, actually. I think it was when Taylor Carver started doing his stand up set during a popalopalots show, before I realised it was a bit. (and, conversely, I was aghast at those who were aghast)
• I don’t think so.
• Trump. Do I really have to explain
• I don’t think so. Probably.
• Baffled how Donald Trump stands a chance in the upcoming election…
• Trump probably.  I think I felt aghast every time he won a primary.
• I was aghast something once… do you want an image or hyperlink for that too? I saw this poster in a bathroom once and I truly believed that Jeff Goldblum was somewhere in there with me… watching me poop. I was aghast.
• I’m aghast Everytime I have to change my daughter’s poopy diaper
• one time a lady in a fur coat called my colleague Masood  a  piece of shit for asking if she had any change in direction for her prescription
• Aghast? Probably. Like a kid in a stroller with pop in its baby bottle, and eating Cheetos.
• Most every day I think  
• yes, and no I don’t.
• Yes. I’ve practically made a career of it
• Yes. Two words: theatre, unicorn. (the best worst moments in Island theatre, maybe ever)
• Seeing Stephen Harper at the Farmer’s Mkt, invited him to Gay Pride.
• Every day through the summer I thought Donald Trump had reached bottom, but then the next day he find some place even further down.
• I once overslept for school by three hours. I was quite shocked, but also somewhat bemused. I was already late so I just walked to school.
• I’m sickened by the abundance of apathy in my community these days! (I would be too, but can’t really be bothered)
• I was absolutely aghast when I looked up from my breakfast to see my Japanese student adjusting a surgical mask on her face to wear to school.
• Becca Griffin’s old Facebook profile picture. She had the Prince Street fire in the back and made some joke about her red hair. Someone died in that fire.

9)   Dirty Dog, Cool Cat, or Chicky Baby?
(Dirty Dog = 6, Cool Cat = 9, Chicky Baby = 4)
Image of reference, for those who didn’t get the reference:

• Depressed Duck
• Chicky Baby, no question.
• Dirty Dog
• Dirty Cat Baby!
• Cool Cat
• Cool cat
• Cool Cat
• Is that code for something? Is it a song lyric? Is someone propositioning me? All three? Was that right?
• dirty dog, I think?
• cool cat
• Cool Cat.
• Dirty Dog
• cool cat sounds the best, but I feel like a dirty dog more than a chicky baby
• chicky baby for sure
• Chicky Babe.
• Cool Cat
• Get down and get dirty dog.
• I’ll take Dirty Dog because I can’t think of anything funny to say right now.
• Cool Cat.
• Cool Cat for the win
• Chicky Baby

• Q: Taylor How Do you do it? A: Why Not?
• Q: What’s you’re favourite part of Grease? A: The part in “You’re the One That I Want” where they run through a random carnival. (I love the randomness of this question)
• Q: Who’s glad to be home? A: ME.
• Q: Why? A: Because!
• Q: Ya know what? A: Chicken butt. (classic!!)
• A: why yes, I’d love a Cinnamon roll before supper (super impressed that you didn’t include the question, and only provided the answer)
• Me:How’s it going?  Other Me:Pretty good I guess, I’m not super stoked with my work life right now, but overall I feel like I’m in a pretty  good place most of the time.   Me:  Just say “not too bad.”  Other Me:  (sigh) Not too bad.
• Q: Do I feel like I wasted Rob’s time? A: Maybe… but it was fun (fun enough, I guess)
• Q: what’s the Answer to the ultimate question? A: 42(nailed it!)
• Q: who do you think you are lady?  A: who ever the fuck i want to be
• Q: Why do you answer things like this? A: I am curious and participatory.
• Q: Why am I taking the time to do this? A: Because there are other much more pressing things I should be doing.
• Q: will I hit BK for Whopper Wednesday tomorrow? A: Yes, hit it like it owes me money.
• Q: Do I need to have a shower this morning before I head to town? A: Nah, you’re good.
• Q: What word best describes you? A: Here.
• Q & A: It is time for bed, yes it is.
• Q: What happens when the indestructible collides with the immovable? A: Everything and nothing.
• Q: To reference the Black Eyed Peas for a moment, what *will* Fergie do with all that junk, all that junk inside her trunk? A: Donate it to the humane society would be nice
• Q: What is the meaning of life?? A: 42!!
• Q: To tree, or not to tree? A: Not to tree.
• Q: If you could go back in time, what would you change? A: I would travel all over the world before getting tied down to a mortgage. (kudos on not mentioning “kill Hitler”)

As I get free time, I plan on transcribing them into a digital format.  Some, like the script below, I may share here.

Some scripts look like they were printed with a dot-matrix printer and are quite faded with time. Others don’t even have that technical luxury of being typed, and are only written in longhand.  Scripts like this one:

This is the first page of a monologue (well, most of it’s a monologue) I wrote and performed during Annekenstein IV (1994).  That was the summer we were at the Carriage House at Beaconsfield.  The previous year we were at the old Condon’s Woolen Mill location on Fitzroy, and the two years before that, it was Off Stage Theatre, where City Cinema now is.

The complete (newly typed) script is below.

I remember that I performed this sketch, but don’t really remember much about it.  I’m not even sure if it lasted the entire run of the season because audiences didn’t really know how to react to it.  I remember David Moses telling me that his mother asked him if I was okay, after she saw it.  (I think it was David’s mother who asked that.)

Here’s a Sean McQuaid review of that season’s production:

His line “MacDonald remains an endearing comic savant throughout (even during an almost uncomfortably masochistic, self-satirizing monologue)” is actually in reference to this script.

I really enjoy sometimes making audiences uncomfortable and unsure of how they’re supposed to react to what’s happening on stage.  (Sometimes, in later Sketch-22 years, I think we went a bit too far in that regard.)  I have come to realize that I have little fear of a befuddled audience.

This script is probably the first time I wrote something that made audiences feel that way. I guess it’s kind of performance art?
The contempt for the audience is a fabrication, but most of everything else I say is true, but it’s not real. If that makes sense.

I’m glad I found it. Re-reading it brought back some good memories.  I’m glad I wrote and performed it.

Rob’s Matthew Monologue

Rob enters the stage, walking as an old man.  He makes his way to center stage, looks at the audience, and contemplates.  He makes a decision and takes off his old man wig or hat.

Rob: Hey everyone, it’s not beloved old Matthew from Anne of Green Gables who stands before you. It’s me. Rob MacDonald.

I’m supposed to be out here now doing a monologue as Matthew Cuthbert, exploring the reasons why he’s as shy as he is, climaxing in him discovering that the basis of his shyness was when, as a child, he saw his father and mother making out.  Ha Ha, good laugh, the show continues.

But I’ve decided to forego that bit of comedy for a rather serious announcement that I’d like to make.

I’ve been in this theatre business now for almost 10 years. The past four years, it’s been my living, supplemented by odd jobs.  The past two of those four years, it’s been my sole source of income.  Needless to say, I’m not a rich man. No, I’m a freelance writer and an actor.  

And I’m sick of it.

Oh, I still love the performing and rehearsing side of my theatre life – the writing, the casting, the acting. But love I less the “moving the theatre once or twice a year” side of theatre life.  Less so the “scared to answer the phone because it may be our King Street landlord of four years ago looking for the rest of his rent money”.  Less so the “here’s a hundred dollar honorarium for your two months of work, I know it’s not much, but maybe someday” side of theatre life.

“Maybe someday”.  The poor actor’s mantra.  

Maybe someday I’ll be rich and famous.  That’s what all actors dream about, you know.  Rich and famous.  I guess I’m getting more famous all the time, but not so the rich.  And the fame is a local fame, a small fame, helped along by the few CBC TV commercials that I do, thanks to David Moses hiring me occasionally.  He works at the CBC now. Yeah. But lately, I’ve been getting real tired of waiting for that “maybe someday when I’m rich and famous”. Now I’d settle for rich, or more to the point – “not so poor”.  So I’m considering giving up theatre as a career. Oh, I’ll still dabble in it, I’m sure. I mean, it’s in my blood now, but I’m gonna try joining the real world – that of the actively unemployed.

Now, in thinking about my theatre career, I like to think that over the years, that maybe, in a small way, I’ve helped some of you.  Maybe at times, some of you weren’t feeling your spunkiest self.  Maybe you, too, were wondering “how in the world do I pay my mortgage this month?” or “my rent”. Or my Mastercard bill which I used last month to pay that mortgage. Or rent.

So, in your blue funk, you decided to come to one of the many Off Stage productions we’ve done. Maybe you’re even here tonight, feeling blue, hoping to see one of my funny faces, or the funny faces of any of my equally talented and comical colleagues. Or hear a funny line or skit. And you momentarily feel better.  For a while you even forget your problems, and you laugh.

In that way, I like to think that I, indeed, helped.  I did my job.  I didn’t solve anything. Oh no.  Troubles don’t just disappear, no matter how hard you wish them away. I know that.

But in a small way, I helped you, maybe. I made you laugh.

Well, I thought about this idea for a while.  The idea that I am a healer through laughter.  That I help you.  That I employ all of my energies to make you feel good for an hour and a half.  And I work damn hard at it. I’m sweatin’ by the end of it.  That’s the kind of guy I am.  Once I commit to something, I give it a hundred and ten percent.  I’m a team player and all that.

But then I got to thinkin’ “Yeah, but what do I get out of all this?”  A sense of accomplishment?  That of a doctor who heals his cancerous patient? Hardly.  

(starts to get worked up, a bit agressive) Oh sure, you may laugh at my mugging.  Yeah, I mug. I make funny faces trying to steal a scene. I admit it. Gladly.  Because I know it’s only to make you laugh.  It’s all to make you laugh.  So YOU will feel better.  Meanwhile, I got a truckload of debts to pay. A baby that Won’t Stop Eating, a house that’s slowly falling apart, a car that’s falling apart a lot faster…. And all you give me is your ten lousy bucks.  Of which I’ll see, maybe, 20 cents.

Well, laugh it up, fuzzballs!  Here’s your friggin’ 20 cents back!!  (tosses two dimes into the audience)  I think you owe me something more than that!!

I want a job.  A real job.  Not a great job. Just a job.  At least five figures though. Maybe 15 thousand a year.  Yeah, that’s all I need.  15 thousand.  Surely there’s someone here tonight who’s got the power, the influence, to get me a job.  Especially when I think of all I do for you!

Now, I’m serious.  I got experience.  Computers. I’ve had desk jobs. Inside jobs. Outside jobs.  Um, I, uh, pumped gas. I’d do that again, if I got 15 thousand.  I’d prefer a nice desk job though.  Something like my friend Dave Stewart has. In an office. Suit and tie sort of thing.

Dave Moses comes out

Dave: Rob. Rob. Robert!!

Rob: Hi, Dave.

Dave: What are you doing?

Rob: Oh, I’m just… I’m… um… finishing up my Matthew monologue (puts on wig) “And  

then I saw them NEEEKED!!”

Dave: No you’re not.  You’re begging for a job.

Rob: No.

Dave: I expressly asked you not to do that.  These people didn’t pay 10 dollars to come  

here just so you could exploit your position.

Rob: Exploit? What exploit? I’m not exploiting.

Dave: Yes. You are.  You’re taking advantage of the fact that they have to sit there, in the dark, facing you, while you talk.  And you’re doing it for personal gain.

Rob: Oh, Heaven forbid I ever do anything for myself on this bloody stage!!

Dave: Well, it’s wrong.

Rob:  No, I’ll tell you what’s wrong!  What’s wrong is me being broke all the time!!

Dave: Come on, let’s go. Sorry about this, folks.

Dave tries to grab Rob’s arm.  Rob pulls away.

Rob: Oh, you’ve changed, Dave. Ever since you got that big CBC job. You used to be like me. Remember? No, all that CBC money is clouding your memory.  And Dave Stewart, he’s the same. Big GST Man now.  Money bags, the both of you.  Remember the three of us?  None with a job. Not really caring.  Just helping each other out.  Well I remember!  I remember the cheap breakfasts at Kelly’s you’d eat, then you say “Say Rob, can you loan me five dollars till my pogey comes in?” And of course I would!  But all that’s past now!  Now it’s stocks and bonds and paint for your house!!

Dave: Are you finished?

Rob: I haven’t even begun!!

Dave: Ed!!

Ed runs out,they take Rob off as he resists.

Rob: Hey you people! I’m serious!  Anybody need a dedicated worker?  PIck me! I’m serious!!  Think of the prestige of having an actual actor working for you!  Leave your name at the door when you leave if you have a position for me!  I’m serious!  I need a job!!

Fade to black

During the summer in Charlottetown, I enjoy sitting for a portion of my lunchtimes on the benches by the fountain at Province House.
Today, as I was sitting there, I saw a man and a boy (maybe 10 years old) walking my way.  They stopped, suddenly, and from the body language, I could tell the man was upset. Tired. Fed up. That piqued my interest.
He grabbed the boy’s arm, in a stern “I’m your father and you are going to listen to what I have to say” kind of way. I overheard the man say something to the effect of “come over here. we are going to sit down and have a talk.  Enough of this.”  They sat at the bench next to mine, and I could only hear some of the man’s portion of the conversation.
I quickly gathered that the man was the father or guardian of the boy. And he was fed up with what he saw as the petulant, selfish, whiny nature of the boy. They were tourists to our fair Isle.

Here are some snippets that I overheard, all from the man:

“Would you rather be home in Guelph, sweating in your living room all day in your underwear?”

“I should call you Captain Crabby.  Do you like being called Captain Crabby? No I didn’t think so.”

“Go ahead and call her.  Do you think your mother will be on your side?”

“Everything I suggest you just go ‘no’ ‘nuh’ ‘no’ ‘don’t wanna’. Do you think it’s fun trying to come up with things for us to do?”

“You don’t have to be Mr. Grumpy. You have a choice, you know.”

“Would you rather not spend time with me ever again? Is that what you mean?”

“I CAN speak to you like that. I’m the grownup here.”

I felt equally bad for both parties.

Last night, before our 4th performance of Annekenstein & Friends, I was told that a lady wanted to meet me and talk after the show, and that she had a book that mentioned Annekenstein in it. I was intrigued but assumed it might be someone who was a bit, I don’t know… Kooky. Who mentions Annekenstein in a book, after all. 

Anne of Green Gables, the musical – 101 Things you didn’t know 

I was beyond thrilled, and touched. She was very effusive in her appreciation of the show she just saw, and wanted me to know how much Don Harron enjoyed the show he saw, and how he often would mention it to others. 

I didn’t wear a tuxedo to The Guild in Charlottetown, but I did go to the opening night performance of the latest ACT (a community theatre) production, All New People.

Written by Zack Braff (or is it Zach Braff, as IMDB would have us believe), and directed by Keir Malone.

Zack Braff is an actor I don’t really care for, was in the TV show Scrubs, which I didn’t care for, and wrote and stars in feature films, like Garden State, which I didn’t care for.  So I wasn’t really too excited to see a play written by him.  After watching it, I’m still not too excited about his writing.

In general, despite the contrived and uninspiring script, I thought it was a pretty enjoyable hour and a half of theater, thanks to solid performances by the entire cast.
However, if I had to use just one word to describe the production, it would be this: Aimless.

The script, in plot and purpose, is rather aimless. It relies too much on sitcom plotting and execution – complete with Jack Tripper-like pratfalls – where emotional moments are forced in between broad saucy, one liner jokes. Too many times, various character emotions and moods only exist long enough to serve the joke-of-the-moment, and then it’s back to each character’s broad, general, over-arching template moods or affectations.

It’s the story of Charlie, a 30 year old who, at the top of the play, is thwarted in an attempt to hang himself. The rest of the play is, basically, a diversion to until we find out why he wants to commit suicide. Three other characters are forced into this scenario, and each of them, likewise, has emotional secrets and baggage that get divulged throughout the story.

The producers made sure that it was known that this was not a typical ACT production, and that it was, in fact, filled with adult themes, strong language, and, enticingly (to me) “extreme content”.  Yeah, the warnings were necessary, I suppose, because there is strong language, and simulated drug use. And the topic of suicide is adult in theme (although it’s handled pretty immaturely in this script, I would say). But I was sorely disappointed that the “extreme content” warning was a misnomer, at least to my indelicate sensibilities.  There was nothing even approaching extreme content, as far as I’m concerned.  Maybe that was merely a warning to all the grey-haired ladies who like to go to ACT productions, used to seeing Jane Austen plays or Gilbert and Sullivan musicals.

Charlie (Cameron MacDonald – who, by the way, is my son) is suicidal, as the play opens. His attempt to end his life is interrupted by real estate agent Emma (Emily Anne Fullerton), who calls on her friend Myron (Tim Wartman) to come and bring drugs and join the party.  And the quartet becomes complete when prostitute Kim (Ashley Clark) shows up, as a surprise one-night birthday gift for Charlie.

The cast is strong and for the most part, sharp and on point.  Each actor had a number of moments where they shone, both comically or dramatically, and they more than aptly succeeded in keeping me interested and invested in their characters, even through the sometimes-slog of the script, and some directing distractions (which I’ll get to later).

Cameron’s character was written as the least “showy” of the quartet (and undoubtedly the least enjoyable to play), and kudos to him for not succumbing to the choice of trying to join in with the broadness and quirkiness inherent in the other three characters.  He’s the straight man in this comedy, and he plays it well.  He is particularly good in the moments when he explains why he’s in such emotional turmoil.  There are a few times, too, however, when he – the actor, not the character – seems a bit lost, blocking-wise, on the stage, unsure as to what to do next. Good direction should nip that in the bud.

Emily Anne Fullerton has a lot of dialogue to get through in this play, and she nails a whole lot of it. Her character is wildly inconsistent though (a challenge of the script, I’d say), and is often forced to make leaps of emotion that would demoralize lesser actors.  That she succeeds so well, and so often, is a testament to her abilities. A strong comedic performance. Less so, with the dramatic stuff though – but again, I think that might be the fault of the script, which is dramatically shallow.

Tim Wartman’s Myron is the most interesting character of the four. It’s obvious that Tim is having a blast playing this role, and for the most part, he’s absolutely on target. There are some pacing issues, at times, where he kind of slows the pacing down. Whether that’s nerves of opening night, acting or directing choices, or a fault of the script, it’s a fairly minor complaint.  A fun character and performance to watch.

Ashley Clark does lots of good work with a rather unappealing character. Actually, the character is appealing enough – it’s the writing her as caricature that I find unappealing. Kim is the most under-written, least fleshed-out character of the four we see on stage. More a misogynistic stereotype than an actual character, Clark nonetheless finds ways to flesh out enough warmth and charm and humanity to make me care about a cartoon.

When speaking about the direction, I keep coming back to that word: “aimless”.  Keir Malone does a pretty good job of keeping the action moving forward (although the pacing does bog down a fair bit during the second half), and manages to showcase some really nice performances from the four on-stage actors.

But the whole thing was just a bit… aimless.  Again, a part of that is an uninspiring script, but the direction could have been sharper. There was far too much literal aimlessness, where the characters would seem like they’re just walking around the stage without any specific purpose or motivation – Charlie’s character, in particular, suffered from “wandering body” syndrome. It just seemed like these characters were moving a lot of the time, just to get them moving.

Many moments throughout the production were also rushed or glossed over, nullifying or diminishing the potential for sharper comedy or deeper dramatics. Normally, I wouldn’t be so nit-picky about such things, but when they continually happen, it becomes something worth noting.

As example, two in particular, come at the beginning of the show.

First moment: Charlie is standing on a chair, with noose around his neck. He is about to step off, ending his life. Then he realizes he’s holding a lit cigarette, and decides to place it on the coffee table, just out of reach, Charlie now faces a dilemma – does he try to reach for the table, with the noose still around his neck (and risk slipping and falling, thus achieving his initial goal), or does he get down off the chair, thus ending, at least momentarily, this suicide attempt.
There is a lot that should be taking place in that very small moment, and it is ripe for comedy. Yet, it fell flat to me, because it was only done in half-measures.  The idea of that fun dilemma was there, but it was glossed over.  It was more a joke hinted at than actually implemented and performed.

Second moment: When Emma first arrives, she opens a door to see Charlie with a rope around his neck. Rather than taking even a moment to allow the reality of the situation to affect her, she impossibly jumps into her “oh my god, what are you doing” line, before the door even finished opening. She didn’t allo
w any time for her character to comprehend what she was seeing. Maybe it was an acting choice, maybe a directing choice, maybe an acting aberration that only happened that one night – whatever the reason, it takes a viewer (me, at least) out of the reality of the moment.

And then, there’s the videos (featuring the on-stage cast plus cameos by Tim Gormley, Ben Hartley and Paul Whelan). I assume this is written into the script, and perhaps there’s nothing a director can do about it, but there are a few times where the on-stage action freezes so that we can see back-story on the various characters (hints as to what their emotional turmoil is).
I found this device highly intrusive and awkward, and totally disrupted the flow of the play. And I didn’t think the video portions weren’t very well produced, edited and/or performed.

I’ll just touch on a couple more things that bothered me:

Because of the use of video, and the necessity to have it projected onto the screen behind the action, and because that screen is lighted, and because the noose is on stage the whole time, hanging from the ceiling… there is a shadow on the screen of the noose.  I found that shadow distracting.  Again, so very nit-picky, but, for me, that’s something a more diligent director should be aware of and solve.

Speaking of the noose: the cord was so long that if Charlie did step off the chair with the noose around his neck, nothing would have happened, because the noose actually goes down to about his knees. It totally and absolutely takes away any threat or reality of the situation when Charlie is standing on the chair. Because the real reality of it is, there is no danger or threat of suicide. I assume the extra length was for safety concerns, but, again, there needs to be a better solution.

tl;dr:
Rob’s 7-Word Review of  the ACT (a community Theatre) production of All New People: Strong performances despite script and direction missteps

Years ago, before you were born, my friend Dave Stewart and I wrote a silly little screenplay called “Florid”, about a group of street bums who were trying to raise money to get to Florida, to escape the cold of the Prince Edward Island winter. We wrote it to make ourselves laugh. And with the vim and vigor of our youth, we set about filming it, with a budget of zero dollars, and a too-relaxed schedule of a few months (maybe even over a couple of winters?). Dave directed and some of our friends and acquaintances were hand-picked to play all the various roles.

You can watch it here.

It’s an imperfect 22 minutes. Lots of terrific little moments, and lines that we still find ourselves quoting during apt moments in our lives. The ending kind of fell apart, as I think the desire to get it finally finished started to outweigh the desire to have the story continue to make sense. As writers, I think we made a few plot-jumps that made sense in our heads but that weren’t really there on the screen.

Anyway, it is what it is, and there are lots of things about it that I, and, I believe, Dave, are proud of.

A couple of years ago, we started kicking around this idea: “wouldn’t Florid make an awesome musical?”  We even got to the point where we started fleshing out some of the scenes, adding new scene ideas, to make it a longer production, and coming up with ideas for where songs could / would fit into the story.

I even was inspired enough to write and record a very rough draft early version of a song called “Eyes Froze Shut”, which sounds nice enough to my ears that I’m sure it must be a rip-off of a song that already exists.
The (incomplete and partial) song was only sung out loud once, so keep that in mind, but You can hear it here.

Alas, after a brief period of inspired energy, but no longer full of the vim and vigor of youth, enthusiasm for the project collapsed and it is currently in a coma, barely clinging to life.
Who knows, if a wealthy benefactor approaches us and throws money at us to get it done, I’m sure we’d happily give Florid the Musical the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation it deserves.

I went to The Guild to see the opening night performance of ACT’s production “Of A Certain Age”, a trio of one-act plays (2 by Tennessee Williams, 1 by David Moses), the conceit of which is that each play features a role for a woman “of a certain age”. Further conceits of the evening (we were told) are that almost the entirety of the production (directors, crew, production design elements, and 63% of the cast – I did the math) was comprised of women.  With this production’s professed agenda to promote “women of theater” it seems odd to me (and a shame) that they couldn’t find suitable works by female playwrights.  Maybe they didn’t look?

The Guild was packed full for this opening night performance. Like, every seat taken. Good news for the production, but the reality of this for patrons is that The Guild gets really hot. That, plus the sardinery of thighs touching thighs as we all sit, packed in the dark of the theatre, no doubt factors into one’s potential enjoyment of the production one experiences.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening, and everyone involved in the production should be happy and proud of what was presented.

(I unfortunately misplaced my program so the names of a couple of the other actors from the night have escaped me.)

Tamara Steele starts the evening off in a relaxed, friendly way, by informing us of what I wrote about in the first paragraph.  She then sets the scene for the first play, Williams’ Lord Byron’s Love Letter, which takes place in New Orleans. As she asks us to imagine New Orleans jazz music floating in the air, the director in me wonders “why not actually have music playing here, rather than her talking about hearing the music”, Steele perhaps answers my question by breaking into an a capella song (of the era, I presume?) which further gets us into the mood. It’s a nice-enough way to get us into each of the plays.

Lord Byron’s Love Letter, directed by Sharon MacDonald, is about an old woman and her daughter (or grand-daughter?) spinster, who try to get people to pay money to see, or hear about, a love letter reputedly written by (or for?) Lord Byron. A married couple come by and are regaled about the existence and history of the letter.
The Old Woman is played by Kate Martin. She is easily the strongest performer in the play, which is even more impressive because of the fact that she says (or yells) almost all her lines from off-stage (as if hiding behind a curtain). It’s not really explained why she needs to hide behind a curtain when people come calling, but lets just chalk it up to an eccentricity of the script and not worry any more about it.
Or maybe the comparative strength of her performance is because her character is really the only one who has anything fun to say in this script.
She has a number of funny back-and-forth moments with the spinster, whose task it is to play up the thrill and excitement surrounding the letter to any visitors. The spinster plays it a bit hammy and theatrically for my tastes (a few too many “can you believe what is happening” eye rolls), but perhaps that’s the direction given? Or the nature of the dialogue?  I don’t know.  But let’s not worry any more about it.
The couple that comes to learn about the letter don’t have much to do, but Tim Wartman as the drunk, indifferent husband does enough with all of his nothing to do.  It’s a role that practically begs for burping, ball-scratching and scene-stealing, and kudos to Tim for being the better man and only occasionally borrowing the scene.
It’s an odd little play that had me asking a lot of questions but not caring enough to wonder about any of the answers, so let’s not worry any more about it.

Tamara Steele again pleasantly transports us through scene-setting and song, this time to St. Louis, the location of the second play of the evening, Williams’ The Pretty Trap.  It’s something of a precursor to his huge success The Glass Menagerie, featuring all the same characters, but for the most part, very little of its depth.

I should disclose here that I have been in two different productions of The Glass Menagerie, once as The Gentleman Caller (my first ever role), and once as Tom the brother/son.  So my viewing of this play is undoubtedly skewered somewhat by my familiarity of that play.

This play, briefly:  Faded southern belle matriarch Amanda worries that her delicate, socially inept daughter Laura will never marry.  She gets her indifferent son/brother Tom to bring home gentleman caller Jim for dinner, hoping to ensnare him in The Pretty Trap.
Joscellyne Bordeaux plays Amanda Wingfield, the matriarch, and she is wonderfully fun to watch.  She obviously is having a blast performing this larger-than-life character, and she really nails the performance.  I’ve never seen her more engaging and comfortable on stage. Funny in all the right places, hints of a tragic inner-life in other places, timing and pacing that keeps the play motoring forward.  Her character is easily the centerpiece and heart of the play. A truth that proves itself when she leaves the stage, and takes most of the energy and interest with her.
The character of Tom is very much underwritten for this play and the actor who plays him (sorry, lost the program) doesn’t do a whole lot to bring much life to him.  I can blame the writer here, more than the actor.
The Gentleman Caller is given a bit more to do, and has a bit more of a backstory to him, but I found this performance didn’t grab me much either.
The young actress who plays Laura plays her as a strong, defiant character – an odd choice that seems to go against the very nature of the way she seems to be written (and described by Amanda).  I was expecting a shy, frail girl and instead got a somewhat loud, somewhat firmly-petulant teenager instead. Not sure if that’s an actor’s choice, or director’s choice, but regardless, it’s a choice that took me by surprise.
And yet, the biggest surprise of all was still to come.
See, there’s a part of the play where things are supposed to get quiet and intimate. It’s just Laura and Jim left alone on stage, getting to know each other, and Laura tells Jim about her glass animal collection – a menagerie of delicate little glass ornaments. Jim seems interested, and so she goes to get one, to show him. Because of my knowledge of Glass Menagerie, I am expecting her to bring out a tiny, delicate little glass unicorn that easily fits within the palm of one’s hand.
What she brings out, though, is the result of perhaps the most audacious directing choice in Prince Edward Island theatre history. And it completely ruined the play for me.

Let me try and paint the picture, though I confess and acknowledge that whatever words I use in my attempts to describe what my eyes were seeing and what my brain was trying to contemplate, I will fail to even come close to the reality of the blinding, brain-numbing absurdity of what actually transpired.
Someone made this decision:  instead of having Laura carry out, cradled in her hands, that delicate little glass unicorn ornament, it was decided to make it a human-sized mockery of a unicorn, sitting in a chair, cumbersomely pulled along on a trolley.
Dressed all in white (in a paper suit?) with what looked to be melted plastic-water-bottles for hands, and a hat (crown? head?) – somehow attached to the chair instead of to the humanicorn – that is also made of warped and ugly plastic, with a glass-dildo shaped horn protruding above it all.  (I wish I could verbally paint a more accurate picture of this bizarre experience)

So here we have this play moving along quite swimmingly, with a strong, standout performance by the lead, who has gone to great lengths and exertions of energy to portray and provide some subtleties of character within a rather broadly-written maternal caricature; supporting actors who admirably attempt to bring life to un
derwritten characters – and it all gets wiped out by introducing a wild and weird, fantastical piece of absurd nonsense into this decidedly unfantastic world.
I don’t know what the intention of this choice was supposed to be, but for me the result was that anything that was said and done from this point onward, for the rest of the play, became absolutely irrelevant, because this white monolith was in the room.

I was also befuddled by the choice to have a portrait of Clark Gable hanging on the wall, when it’s supposed to be a picture of Amanda’s husband, who ran off years ago.  Do they (the characters) see this as Clark Gable?  Does Amanda have delusions that she was once married to a movie star?  Is he supposed to be the embodiment of “perfect husband”?  It’s never explained.

Also, I had issues with figuring out the period in which this play was set – as in, I couldn’t figure out what year the play was set.  It was written to be set in, I assume, the late 1930s?  They attempted to update it though, by making references to The Beatles and Rolling Stones as records they’d play on the Victrola.  So, is it now in the 1960s? Why update it to the 60s, specifically? Again, a fairly minor annoyance, but an annoyance nonetheless.

Intermission – and time to get more confused about the presence of the humanicorn.

Act Two begins with Tamara Steele again introducing the next (and final) play, The Prompter, by David Moses.  I don’t remember if she sang another song, though.

Another disclosure:  I’ve been friends with Dave since forever, and had seen every performance of the original production of this play.  So again, a skewered perception of this production.

The Prompter, directed by Nancy McLure, is about a seasoned older actress (Barb Rhodenhizer) who comes to a rehearsal expecting to work one-on-one with the director, but ends up running lines with a prompter (Madison Peters).
It’s a terrific script, full of great lines.  And it was a real pleasure to see it performed again.
The play, we are told, was written for Mae Ames, a Grand Dame of PEI theatre.  I was curious to see how Barb would fit into this role that was specifically written with Mae’s personality and nuances in mind.  Turns out, she did a terrific job – maybe the best I’ve ever seen her. She did seem to be emulating Ames’ line readings at times, and I was occasionally wishing they tried to massage the script to fit Barb’s personality, rather than have Barb do a mimicry of Mae, but that’s a fairly trifling thing. Maybe the script doesn’t easily allow that?

Regardless, Barb was strong, funny, touching – totally on target and shining for pretty much everything the role demanded.
Madison Peters was good as the prompter, if a bit underwhelming.  It is a fairly underwritten character to play, admittedly, so there’s not a lot to find within.  And there are a couple of jumps in emotion the character is required to make that the script doesn’t effectively pull off.  Again, more of the script’s problem than the actor’s.  She did a perfectly satisfying job when given her few moments to divulge character, and the rest of the time she was utilitarian in giving the star of the play her room to shine.

A thoroughly enjoyable evening of theatre, all around.