I’ve seen all the Michael Holingsworth plays, I enjoy them immensely. One time I insulted an actor without realizing it at a little party for everyone upstairs after the performance was done. In these plays about Canadian history told from a left, feminist, indigenous perspective that illuminate where the church was, where the money was, where the army was, told in a zillion quick scenes one after the next after the next, all the actors play 6 or 7 characters and the props are paper mâché objects larger than life, the lighting is surprising, the music is usually by Brent Snyder who I knew a little bit in the 80s, it sounds mostly like one synthesizer from that era and adds another layer of unique – a lot is going on.
The actor was an old acquaintance and I wanted to say something nice. I shared how amazed I was with how much text they have to memorize and he said something in return very sarcastic as if my compliment was worthless. The next days I thought about that and realized I wasn’t saying anything about his acting. Yep, pointless.
Last night I played a set at the Tranzac, someone approached after to tell me I play real fast and they were really impressed by how fast I play, it’s so blurry. I realize when someone says something like that they think they are demonstrating some understanding but it makes me only shift away. They’re impressed I remembered all the words instead of anything about what was done with the words.