Lwam Ghebrehariat reprised his role as convicted Toronto 18 accomplice Shareef Abdelhaleem in Toronto’s reading of Homegrown, part of a nationwide fundraiser for the SummerWorks festival.

Up until the morning of July 31, 2010, Catherine Frid’s Homegrown was just another one of the 42 plays produced by The SummerWorks Theatre Festival that year. But mere days before the show was to open, it was thrust into the media’s spotlight under the headline “Sympathy for the Devil.” Suddenly, Homegrown was no longer just a developing piece about a woman’s relationship with an accused terrorist associated with the Toronto 18—it became the city’s symbol for the battle between artists and Conservative politics. This past Friday, almost a year later, an event to recuperate the losses of SummerWorks’s unanticipated denial of government funding (commonly believed to be in direct response to the play itself), made Homegrown all of Canada’s.

“In theatres across the country tonight comes our answer. The very play that frightened everyone from Sun journalists to radio hacks to members of the PMO is getting an airing,” playwright Michael Healey wrote in a letter read out loud by Trevor Schwellnus, artistic producer of Aluna Theatre and one of Homegrown‘s original producers, at the Berkeley Theatre on Friday evening. It was one of 14 staged readings of Homegrown taking place nationwide, involving over 70 companies from coast to coast. Initiated by Western Edge Theatre in Nanaimo, BC and a call from Healey and Toronto’s Wrecking Ball Theatre, the campaign to broadcast Homegrown across Canada was intended to be both a fundraiser as well as a display of solidarity among theatre-makers against what is perceived as the latest attack from the Conservatives against artistic expression.
Considering that the withdrawal of funding and the following uproar from the artistic community allegedly stems directly from the play’s content, many have been quick to judge (either in support or disgust) despite not fully understanding what the play is actually about. Torontonians are lucky to have an insider viewpoint on the material—after all, they were called the Toronto 18, and Toronto audiences had the opportunity to see the SummerWorks production at the time of the controversy last year. Citizens (be they arts supporters or not) in other cities had no such accessibility to the subject matter, and now that Homegrown has entered the national stage, it’s vital they do. Friday’s national readings haven’t only raised a buck or two for SummerWorks or made Homegrown the most-produced play of the moment, but they also let Canadians who didn’t see the production hear the now infamous script, before coming to a conclusion—not that that stopped the PMO at all last year, who accused the play of “glorifying terrorism” without seeing or reading it.

Shannon Perrault as Cate and Lwam Ghebrehariat as Shareef.

“If this is a terrorist play, then Shakespeare’s Richard III is a serial murderer play,” said actor Lwam Ghebrehariat who played the convicted terrorist-in-question, Shareef Abdelhaleem, in the way that both Richard III and Homegrown revolve around characters who have admittedly done wrong, but, in our opinion, show them as people rather than one-dimensional villains. What may be perceived as sympathy is Frid’s personal account of her own complicated relationship with Abdelhaleem. But from where we sat, at no point does Shareef come across as “glorified,”—more as a man who made wrong move after wrong move who has no one and nothing to blame but his own inability to see the larger picture. While critiques on the quality of the script are varied, so are the opinions that there is anything the least bit controversial or provocative at all about Homegrown. But since members of the press and the Prime Minister’s Office were able to condemn the play without seeing it, it’s clear the media frenzy that followed its production was about much more than Homegrown itself.
“I think the media has had a lot of fun with it as an entertainment piece,” said Ghebrehariat, voicing the sentiment shared by many of the actors onstage, who saw the play as a sacrificial lamb used to spark an ideological war between the government and Canadian artists. “I was shocked, it was pretty disillusioning for me about the media. I know about sensationalism and all that stuff… but it was front page, and they had no idea. They hadn’t even seen it,” said actress Shannon Perrault, who played Cate (based on Catherine Frid herself).

Artistic producer of Aluna Theatre, Trevor Schwellnus reads a letter from Michael Healy.

Well, now media members and theatregoers across the country have had their chance to do just that—whether or not they took it up is still unknown. We can say that in Toronto at least, with little advanced notice, an unfortunate scheduling conflict with the closing weekend of the Toronto Fringe Festival and perhaps even a distaste for the script, attendance wasn’t quite as high as we expected for such a prestigious cause. But that’s not to say that Toronto artists haven’t prepped for battle, now that the stage is set for an epic expression vs. censorship showdown, whether Homegrown was a worthy catalyst or not.
Schwellnus says he even welcomes pressure from higher-ups. “It’s a challenge I like to sink my teeth into, we can’t shut up about this stuff.”
With the SummerWorks Theatre Festival now only a few weeks away, we’re sure we’ve only seen a taste of the artillery that’s to come.
Photos by Carly Maga/Torontoist.

For a guy who admits he’s not really the outdoorsy type, Joel McConvey seems pretty at home in High Park. He even colour-coordinates. Photo by Corbin Smith/Torontoist.

On a gloomy and unseasonably chilly day in mid-May, we stand next to Joel McConvey on a hill in High Park, our eyes squinty and backs slightly hunched to minimize our exposure to the heavy drizzle. But even in less-than-ideal weather, the impact of the surrounding treetops, rocks, and plants⎯the closest we have to the great outdoors downtown⎯is not lost.
“I should really come out here more often,” he tells us, noting he’s a nearby resident and all. A surprising musing since, as one of the three creators and producers of The National Parks Project, he’s had nothing but parks on the brain for the past five years.
From conception to fruition, The National Parks Project, a 13-part miniseries documenting Canadian musicians and filmmakers in Canada’s most remote areas of wilderness, has its roots in our nation’s landscape⎯stemming from Banff and a conversation between Parks Canada and McConvey’s business partner, Ryan Noth. With a brainstorm between McConvey, Noth, and co-creator Geoff Morrison on Toronto Island, the idea to have three musicians and one filmmaker, all Canadian, create an original short film and soundtrack documenting their experiences in 13 of the country’s most majestic national parks began to bud. And inevitably, the terrain of the Bruce Peninsula, Cape Breton Highlands, and Sirmilik, among others, is where the concept really came to life. Now, culminating in a TV series, a set of short films, an online portal, and a 20-track album, The National Parks Project will finally blossom at the Royal this week, with a record-release party on Thursday (the official 100th anniversary of Parks Canada) and a short theatrical run starting on Friday. With this, after half a decade of work, McConvey’s passion project comes to a close. So do our nature analogies, we promise.

Album artwork.

When asked how it feels, McConvey doesn’t have to search hard for an answer. “Amazing,” he half-sighs-half-chuckles. “No really, it feels really good. It’s rewarding.” Undoubtedly, it feels rewarding that years of hard work, scheduling with artists, pitching to partners, and writing grant proposals, even while he was in South Korea teaching English, is now paying off. “A labour of love,” as he calls it, and he’s proud of how it celebrates Canadian film, music, and nature⎯three fascinations shared by McConvey, Noth, and Morrison⎯on a coast-to-coast-to-coast scale. “It’s not about being finished; it’s about sharing it with people.”
Cue the collective Canadiana “awwww”s. But as heartwarming as it is, The National Parks Project is also just really, really cool. Besides getting to work with his friends and some of his favourite musicians and filmmakers, McConvey also had the chance to travel to areas so remote you either have to: a) have tons of cash to charter your own seaplane, or b) be a tree. And sometimes not even that would work, like in the Northwest Territories, where McConvey joined filmmaker Kevin McMahon at Nahanni Park, as Jace Lasek and Olga Goreas from the Besnard Lakes jammed on solar-powered electric guitars with Shad aboard a raft (who was disappointed to discover that he was not, in fact, the first black guy to travel down the South Nahanni River). On another night up north, McConvey remembers sitting in on another session at 1 a.m., the sky the colour of a peacock, noticing a dot hanging over the horizon. “That’s Venus,” he was told, as the music reached a crescendo and the northern lights started their own performance overhead. “That was one of those moments…I just went, ‘Yes! I win!’” McConvey grins.
The possibility for moments just like that made The National Parks Project a “dream job” for artists such as Jim Guthrie, who was on the inaugural artistic expedition⎯a sailing trip around the islands of Gwaii Haanas in British Columbia, alongside Sarah Harmer, Bry Webb from the Constantines, and director Scott Smith.

The choppy shores of Gwaii Haanas in B.C. would have made our stomachs flip, too.

It wasn’t always smooth sailing, though. It seems that two flights, a bumpy bus ride, and six days of sailing from island to island aren’t the most conducive conditions for artistic collaboration. “We weren’t stationary, and it was annoying that you couldn’t pull out your guitar and play…And you’re with people you don’t normally make music with, dealing with elements, without your own bed or luxuries of the city,” he says. Then, there was the seasickness. “I never actually puked, but there were times when we were really getting tossed around. And there’s nowhere you can go!”
But on the third day of the trip, he remembers, the crew found a longhouse and slept there overnight. “The one night we slept on land,” he says, “it was the first time I caught myself in the moment, and got to slow down. It was the first moment we all had just appreciated where we were.” And without discussing it, the three performers got out their guitars, banjo, keyboard, and even Guthrie’s iPad, and created the track “Longhouse.”
“It took a while to leave the city behind, but it was super stimulating in a completely different way,” he says. “It was a trip of a lifetime. It’s a cliché, but it doesn’t make it any less true, that [being outdoors] really does help you get in touch with nature and yourself.”
Now cherishing stable ground and the proximity of urban amenities, Guthrie is back in Toronto and will be playing at the album release party at the Royal, alongside other participating musicians like Bry Webb, Andrew Whiteman from Broken Social Scene, Sophie Trudeau of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and NPP‘s music director, Paul Aucoin. McConvey will also be there to bid farewell to this particular park-related project. However, even for a guy who admittedly isn’t the outdoorsy type, it likely won’t be the last, he says.
“I’ll probably be haunted by parks the rest of my life.”

Arcade Fire chats with CTV’s Tanya Kim at the 2011 Juno Awards.

Canadian music is world-class stuff, that’s no secret. Unfortunately, not everything or everyone that has represented the True North Strong and Free on the global sales charts have been in tune with the tastes of listeners back home. And, even worse, the same can be said for our national music awards and accompanying ceremony.
Until this year, it seems.
Throughout their history the Juno Awards have been caught somewhere between a typical Canadian self-deprecating joke and their status as the country’s most important musical celebration. As the biggest, most star-studded event, the Junos are an important testament of attitudes towards contemporary Canadian music. On the other hand, they’ve usually been substantially more in touch with sales than merit, to the point where no one really seemed to bother paying attention anymore. Unconvinced that Nickelback’s power ballads were really that “soaring”, most of us greeted the Junos with a groan of fading patience.
But this year, the show’s fortieth, something was different. From the performers and winners to the speeches and the pre-awards events, everything had a relevant, contemporary appeal. Even, dare we say it, a sense of pride.

2011 Juno Awards host Drake on the red carpet.

In terms of winners, there were few surprises: Arcade Fire were, in fact, on fire, taking away four awards including Album of the Year, Group of the Year, and Songwriter of the Year. Other awards celebrated artists from coast to coast, with B.C.’s Said the Whale taking New Group of the Year, and K’Naan’s “Waving Flag” snagging Single of the Year. One of the few unexpected wins went to Halifax’s gobsmacked Meaghan Smith, for New Artist of the Year—beating out Hannah Georgas and Basia Bulat.
There were some other upsets (when Shad took Rap Album of the Year over Drake, for example), but they mostly took place during an un-televised gala on Saturday night—a situation that could have propelled the Junos towards the Titanic that was this year’s Oscars. But luckily a quick and smooth show, peppered with performances by Broken Social Scene, Chromeo (complete with an orchestra of fancy females), and Arcade Fire, and new categories like Electronic Album of the Year (which went to Polaris Prize–winning Caribou), made sure that we were entertained by the Canadian artists we know, love, and listen to every day. Even face time with Justin Bieber was kept to a tolerable minimum, not only because he couldn’t attend and accepted his awards through video, but because he won the awards he was supposed to—Juno Fan Choice Award and Pop Album of the Year—and no more.
And though he remains a music award bridesmaid but never a bride, our lovely host Drake was an impressive surprise, showing that the Junos can not only be fun but funny, appealing to the “Old Money” demographic. While he walked away trophy-less, there was no hint of a pout—unlike one grumpy Oscar host we won’t mention.
Comparisons to the Oscars are unavoidable, given both ceremonies’ attempts to reach a younger audience. And why not? The Junos this year were slick and professional, and whatever they lacked in moving set pieces they made up for in style. Because despite a focus on newer, younger artists and bands, Canada’s musical icons had their place as well—only instead of trotting out octogenarians close to teetering off the stage like Kirk Douglas, they were instead paid compelling homage. A rousing medley of Gordon Lightfoot, The Band, and Joni Mitchell was performed by a mix of today’s biggest names—Sarah Harmer, Jim Cuddy, Dallas Green, and Serena Ryder—and hit all the right notes. Shania Twain got her spot in the Canadian Music Hall of Fame, and some might say that Neil Young was the real Juno King in his first appearance at the show in twenty-nine years, receiving Humanitarian of the Year and Artist of the Year. Backstage, he told press, “It’s very unusual for me to be this exposed,” which we guess is true, but wonder why it’s taken this long: through more than fifty years in the industry, he’s never really lost a connection to today’s music.
One of the biggest achievements of this year’s Junos was paying tribute to Canadian music across genres and generations in a positive, collaborative, “of-the-moment” way, which is totally what it has always meant to do. It was by no means perfect⎯next year we hope to see the Saturday awards televised, and hip-hop integrated into the show beyond the choice of host. But using previous ceremonies as a benchmark, we’re headed in the right direction. Contrary to our natural tendencies to self-deprecation and humility, at the end of the show, it seemed that everyone—us, the artists, the audience—was full of pride.
We’ll echo Mr. Young himself, with the words he used to close his acceptance speech for Artist of the Year: “O Canada!”
Photos courtesy of CTV.

Oshawa: amazing. Photo by Carnotzet from the Torontoist Flickr Pool.

Oshawa, you big, adorable, patriotic lug, your heart really is in the right place. But seriously, calm down or you’re going to pull something.
You’d think that complaining shoppers at the Five Points Mall—all one of them, or possibly two, as the Star reported this morning—had walked in on a ritual flag burning, or some Halloween-themed act of brazen, dastardly sedition. The thing is, they didn’t. What shoppers saw over the customer service counter at the Five Points Zellers was the Canadian flag, reportedly a year-long fixture in that part of the store, festooned with seasonally appropriate cobwebs and cackling animatronic witches. As shopper Sharon Helferty told the Star, “I just think the Canadian flag should be flown proudly and it doesn’t need to have all that garbage thrown on top of it.”
Sure, maybe it’s the paragon of holiday commercialism at its tackiest, but what are you trying to say, Oshawa? That zombies and mummies don’t have the same right to celebrate this grand old confederation as the living? Or is it that our national symbol’s positioning as a gimmick violates some deeply held Canadian standard of class? While Canadian Heritage recommends that it “should be displayed only in a manner befitting this important national symbol,” you don’t typically hear about people being ostracized at Canada Day parties for wearing the flag like a sarong, or for having the ungrateful, no-sir-I-prefer-to-completely-forget-Dieppe gall to plant their asses smack in the middle of the beloved Maple Leaf.
But to be fair, Oshawa is a sane town, and those who would come at a department store display with a baseball bat and a holier-than-thou incantation of O Canada—if left to their own devices—represent the minority. And to those few, those jingoistic few, we suggest a deep breath, a little perspective, and maybe a long, refreshing pull from a bottle of something splashed with the national symbol itself.