It’s Not Me, It’s You — Unless It’s Me
If Canadian Theatre were to say, “it’s not you, it’s me,” it would be true. But has that line ever actually made anyone feel better?
If Canadian Theatre were to say, “it’s not you, it’s me,” it would be true. But has that line ever actually made anyone feel better?
No one talks about vaginismus, a medical condition that makes penetrative sex extremely painful. No one talks about it on stage, either. Rebecca Orstroff details her experience doing both—over Zoom.
That my play was even considered by a theatre I had no prior relationship with now seems like a tremendous luxury.
It would have been a big enough task to write using the common parlance of today, but my youthful arrogance made me want to write the play in verse.
Even if Canada has a higher volume of contemporary French plays, our reliance on old translations of classic texts is troubling.
I equate hearing an early draft of a play to getting out of a shower that was far too cold with a towel that is far too small. And a crowd has gathered in your bathroom. And everyone is ready to offer their opinion.
The scope of theatre in Toronto is greater than we give it credit for when we’re in our cups, tipsy, and bitching. But it’s when you’re at that place (cups, tipsy, bitching, etc.) that you can get to the heart of what you wish you’d seen.
People often ask me which I enjoy better: acting or writing. The best answer I can give (aside from “who cares?”) is that one teaches me about the other.
“If you don’t embrace fear and risk getting it wrong, you’ll never find something new, something inventive, something beautiful.”