Montreal theatre that welcomed Kevin Hart and Jimmy Carr, shutting its doors after 20 years
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Winnipeg Free Press
11 hours ago
- Winnipeg Free Press
Pulling back the curtain
Award-winning Brazilian novelist, journalist and short-story writer Eliana Alves Cruz published her first novel, Água de Barella, in 2015, followed by another two novels and a book of stories. She is widely recognized in Brazil, as she should be. Solitaria, the first of her books to be translated into English, is quickly bringing her the wider audience she so richly deserves — and exposing from the inside, and as if for the first time, the charged torsions of the distinctively Brazilian versions of class and caste, racism and race. Solitaria is unnervingly stark and simple in structure. It's narrated in three parts by three voices in sequences of no more than three pages each. Astra House photo Eliana Alves Cruz's first book to be translated into English exposes, from the inside, the charged torsions of the Brazilian versions of class and caste, racism and race. The first 15 episodes are in Mabel's voice. The little girl is Eunice's daughter; the pair are Black domestics in a rich white Brazilian couple's apartment in an unnamed big city in the south of Brazil. Eunice's voice narrates the second part of the novel; the third, from which the title derives, is narrated by the series of solitary 'little-rooms' inhabited by domestics — historically and today. Evoking solitary confinement, 'Solitária' signals the sites of isolation of Brazilians like Eunice and Mabel, servants confined to tiny compartments in the rear of opulent apartments. That Alves Cruz gives these 'little-rooms' their own narrative power and presence is resonant: in Brazil these spaces are mute witness to generations of suffering — like that of the woman imprisoned in another apartment since she was 10. The tensions in Mabel and Eunice's family speak to today's Brazil as to Brazilian history. The father, an expert and loving gardener, drinks too much and eventually is forced to abandon his family. Eunice's mother lives with her daughter and granddaughter in a little house in the far suburbs, from which they travel hours to the apartment where they work. The traditional caste of service people populate their layer of the apartment block: the building superintendent Jurandir and his two boys, Cacau and João Pedro, add another turn to the plot as Mabel becomes pregnant as a teenager with João Pedro's baby, while Mabel and Cacau eventually break free from their respective confinements through years of hard study and determination. Jurandir's sons represent two possible avenues of escape for Mabel — one, passionate anger and rebellion, the other determination and endurance. A further elaboration of plot develops through Ms. Lucia, the rich boss and Tiago, her lawyer husband, who struggle to conceive a child; their hyper-spoiled daughter Camila comes to play a vital part in the second of the novel's twinned tragedies involving children. (Readers will have to discover these transparent and telling developments for themselves.) Weekly A weekly look at what's happening in Winnipeg's arts and entertainment scene. Meanwhile Ms. Lucia plays her own duplicitous role in helping Mabel abort, later scornfully revealing her complicity to Eunice. That first cover-up anticipates the larger and ultimately unsuccessful attempt of the rich couple at concealment of their family's role in the novel's final tragedy. Solitaria There is an overarching message of hope in Solitaria: as is the case in contemporary Brazil, a series of exacting laws is enacted to legislate and improve the terrible working conditions, including salary, of domestics (even if under-the-table arrangements continue to undermine this new regime); and the machinations of Ms. Lucia and Tiago to conceal their daughter's complicity in the culminating tragedy are exposed, as is the pathetic condition of the imprisoned woman in another apartment. The translation of Solitaria by Benjamin Brooks is excellent for the most part, although it is unnecessarily marred by leaving some popular lyrics in Portuguese, to little positive effect. But that does not impede the forceful progress of the narration. Alves Cruz pulls no punches. No reader will be in any way confused by the novel's clear message, if fiction does indeed convey a 'message:' Solitaria announces on every page that the Brazil so long idealized, from the perennially false fables of racial harmony to the sultry languor of bossa nova lyrics, is a Brazil that never was. Alves Cruz's Brazil pulses with vital and dangerous but real hope. Writer and translator Neil Besner grew up in Rio de Janeiro and returns there frequently.
Montreal Gazette
19 hours ago
- Montreal Gazette
Quebec singer Luck Mervil found guilty of sexual assault
Montreal Crime Quebec singer Luck Mervil was found guilty of sexual assault on Thursday. The events date back to a night 25 years ago, when Mervil is said to have drugged and raped a 19-year-old woman after a show in Rimouski. The hearing took place in February. The judge stated on Thursday that he did not believe Mervil's claims that it was a case of mistaken identity and that the victim had him confused with other Black celebrities. The judge also commented on the vague nature of Mervil's testimony, which he said lacked credibility. A sentencing date has not yet been set. Mervil said he plans to appeal the verdict. During the trial, the victim described meeting the singer at a bar in Rimouski on the night of June 23-24, 2000. The woman recounted putting her beer down on the bar and going to dance. Feeling nauseous, she went to the bathroom, where she said Mervil appeared next to her. She said she woke up in a hotel room with Mervil on top of her. Mervil is known for his performance in the hit musical Notre-Dame de Paris; he played the character Clopin in the original French and English casts. He received a six-month sentence in 2018 after pleading guilty to sexually exploiting a 17-year-old girl.
Montreal Gazette
a day ago
- Montreal Gazette
Drimonis: Montreal's multitude of ‘third places' enriches our city and our souls
Last Sunday night found me in a park in Griffintown enjoying the latest free movie offering by Film Noir au Canal. For close to a decade, this local group has been screening moody black-and-white masterpieces on the banks of the Lachine Canal, showcasing a world where women were take-no-guff dames, men sported tailored suits and fedoras, and the verbal exchanges were always razor-sharp. For six Sunday evenings (until Aug. 17) Montrealers can grab a blanket or their favourite camping chair, bring food and drinks and lie under the stars (or in last Sunday's case, an eerie orange half-moon) and watch French or English movies featuring sultry femme fatales who may or may not be up to no good and hapless private eyes who usually can't tell the difference. The crowd — a mix of young and old, large boisterous groups, people on their own, couples out on a romantic evening — all sitting and lying so closely together, that occasionally as we shift positions on the grass, someone's shoe may brush up against someone's hand. No one cares. There's a lingering poetic intimacy to a group of strangers sitting together in the shadow of old factory silos watching vampy Marlene Dietrich foreshadow the villain's demise in the 1958 classic Touch of Evil. Charlton Heston, wearing foundation that's five shades darker than his natural skin complexion, plays Mexican narcotics cop Mike Vargas. Not all films age gracefully. In fact, most don't. A few weeks ago, I found myself at Mount Royal Cemetery for the launch of this season's Shakespeare-in-the-Park production, where Shakespeare was noticeably absent. Instead, an Oscar Wilde play is being performed around Montreal parks this year: The Importance of Being Earnest. Once again, I was surrounded by strangers (both the dead and the living) as we laughed at the campy production, an invisible magical thread connecting us. Last week, I ended up on Nuns' Island, squeezing into West-Vancouver Park alongside thousands who came to listen to the Orchestre Métropolitain and conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin perform for free under a gorgeous summer sky. I saw people of all backgrounds swaying their bodies to the same delicious notes. There's a name for these spaces and the feelings they evoke. Sociologist Ray Oldenburg coined the term 'third places' in his 1989 book The Great, Good Place. If our homes and places of work are our first and second places, then parks, churches, cafés and libraries constitute third places. Public spaces where people go to simply be with others and connect with their community, mostly for free. Humans are communal animals. Even the most curmudgeonly crave some contact. Montreal's outdoor spaces act like what's been called 'societal glue,' fostering connection and deep attachment to the city we all call home. In our parks, public squares, green spaces and pedestrian-only streets, Montreal has an enviable amount of outdoor third spaces. I feel many people fail to truly understand their importance for a city's social cohesion; how they help build empathy for, and interest in, each other. Third places affirm our own sense of identity and belonging to a place while simultaneously making us feel as if we belong to a world bigger than ourselves. In multicultural and multilingual spaces like Montreal, where people of all backgrounds and perspectives come together, and in a world where people are increasingly living solitary lives online or in their cars, these spaces provide a sense of shared reality. They wage war against loneliness and disconnection. It can be the local basketball court, neighbourhood café or dog park. Or barbecues held in alleyways, cultural events sponsored by the city, or pay-what-you-can yoga in the park. It can be watching the sunset from the Lachine lighthouse or the full moon from the Kondiaronk lookout on Mount Royal. Third places have this irresistible ability to foster connection and tenderness for one another. Now, more than ever, we need that.
