[eviews nce again, Almodovar brings us a film that takes its’ art di rection seriously, and is si- multaneously hysterical and a com- plete endictment of our mix-and- match, wash-and-wear social mores. Pippa, a voice-dubber, and adver- tising mom to a mass murderer, has been left by Carlos, her live-in co- worker who, she thinks, is going for a vacation with his estranged wife. His wife, left when pregnant with his son 20 years before, is insane, and lives in the last year she remembered happi- ness, and in the same wigs. She detests her son, because he reminds her of the husband who abandoned her. Her son, in tum, is eloping with his Modigliani by JOHN WERTSCHEK ow! Now that was something. ine Vancouvers Opera’s produc- tion of Rigoletto last month was one of the best productions I’ve seen in many a moon: innovative staging, a classic tale of irony and tragedy, superb music and libretto and fi- nally, voices that delivered the tre- mendous resonance required to make any work great. My heart soared, my mind and body melted away, enthralled as the tale of the bitter hunch- backed jester and his beautiful daugh- ter unfolded. Indeed, my heart soared, don’t like shopping malls. There’s something oppres- sive about them. Asif the creed of be beautiful, be happy, be ready in five minutes has here come to be. T’membarrassed that old men, from a generation which embraced the human spirit, sit in these shopping girlfriend. They are apartment-hunt- ing, while Pippa is trying to sell her own apartment. It doesn’t take too much imagination to guess what hap- pens in this revolving-door post-Res- toration comedy of manners. Pippa, unaware that Carlos even had a son, takes an immediate interest in the young man, even as she is in fact pregnant with his half-brother. Everything goes awry when the Modigliani girlfriend drinks the spiked gazpacho, Pippa’s girlfriend sleeps with a Shiite terrorist group, and the telephone company shows up. Meanwhile, Carlosis taking off to Sweden with his ex-wife’s brow- beating lawyer, on the same plane the Shiite terrorists have targeted for ex- and then fell as completely as Rigo- letto’s when he discovers his own ac- tions have led to his daughter’s death. Now, they’re at it again! The Vancouver Opera’s up-coming produc- tion of Giuseppe Verdi’s La Traviata (The Lost One) promises to be a splen- did treat. With some of the most mov- ing and memorable music of any op- era, this classic tale cannot be missed. La Traviata is the story of the tragic romance of Violetta Valery, a beautiful courtesan and Alfredo Ger- mont, a sincere and poetic young man malls, watching our attempt to pur- chase spiritual development. I’m sad- dened that we look at these old men with pity and disdain because they choose to fill their days with idle chat- ter in shopping malls. And when I sit next to one, resting my weary feet from the torture of fash- VOL.4 NO.6 plosion. Well, so much for plot. This movie is really funny, and gorgeous to watch. Not since Cop- pola’s “One from the Heart” and Fel- lini’s “And the Ship Sails On” have sets been made so deliciously fake. And where does this guy get his faces? The comedy comes from a strange place, too. Sure, there’s a bit of slap- stick and comedic tension and weird angles and dry deliveries and absurd visuals, but it is the language, amaz- ingly enough, that carries the politics of the humour in between clichéd non- sequitors. The excellent subtitling is worthy of comment for its’ sensitivity to the nuances of both language and of arespectable provincial family. The opera, originally staged in the 1850’s, was an initial failure. Verdi reformed it, changing the setting to 1700, and since 1854, it has become one of the favourites of opera lovers. Mostrecent performances stage it in Paris, butagain in the 1850’s. In Act I, as Violetta’s gaiety is recognized as peevishness, Alfredo confesses his love. His sincerity leads to her confession (to herself) that she has learned the real meaning of love. ActII finds the two living an idyllic life ionable footwear, his chatter bores me. I pity his idleness. This incessant concern he seems to have for mundane details like whether or not I’m married and what his granddaughter’s taking in university. [long for meaningful intel- lectualizing with someone who under- stands the foreign debt. Then I’m 1989 culture. Fujicolour brings us reds you just don’t get in North America and the camera absolutely lingers on them. Like the ruby fingernails, clutching the blendered gazpacho against a firey print blouse. Every woman in this film is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The men are giant caricatures, affable in their own ways, but far from unthreat- ening, undangerous. They seem to be the unwitting protaganists behind the angst of all these women. It’s not that Almodovar is some far-sighted male visionary who is above all the trappings of his phallocentric culture, it’s just that he sees it, he of happiness in the seclusion of the country: Paradise, however, as we seem to believe, is as permanent as a void. As in all tragedies, the course is set and the story immutably builds to the inevitable end. Words by Alfredo’s father lead to actions, misunderstand- ings, bad timing, unspoken feelings, and tragic confusion. Eventually the two lovers are re-united with the same passion, but it’s too late: Violetta dies. The quality of the music makes us all die along with her, able to identify with Alfredo’s guilt and despair: if only we e of uncomfortable because he’s taking too long to get to the point and I still have to buy pantyhose and facecream be- fore my lunch hour’s over. Sitting here I have to listen to sadness and loneli- ness that has no place in shiny shop- ping malls. And sometimes, when I’m back in sss aa tana by ANN MARIE FLEMING ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN recognizes it, and he can pick up the threads of inanity and make us laugh at ‘them. He makes them more real, more inane than perhaps they really are. He treats all his actors like subjects in an art work. No one is there just for filler. Everyone has their own perfect cinematic moment, which leads to some wonderful ensemble acting. With the fast-paced veneer of superficiality and wit pasted all over Almodovar’s films, he reminds me ofa dressed-down intensified Oscar Wilde. It would not be impossible to hear him whisper, upon his deathbed, “Either this wallpaper goes, or I go.” AT TOP VOLUME hadn’t... if only we had said... but, what else could we have done? Itis always surprising to hear such familiar music and realize the context. You'll recognize quite a few arias and finally know the story. La Traviata is at the Queen Eliza- beth Theatre April 22, 25, 27 and 29. Special deals for tickets (as cheap as $5) are available. Don’t miss it. If you only see one Opera this season (this is the last one) make it this one. N SHOPPING Malls... my studio, I think of the old man and wish I’d remembered to listen to him. I wish I could go find him but, realisti- cally, I have to finish my painting, and there’s no time for mundane chatter with lonely old men in shopping malls. r * eVieW = by ANN MARIE FLEMING ON THE VERGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN Jnceagain, Almodovar brings girfviend. They are apartment-hunt- posion. culture, recognizes it and he can pick up the usafilm thattakesits'artdl ing, while Pippa is trying to sell her Wel, so much for pot. Foajicolour brings us reds you just threads of inaity and makeus laugh at rection seriously, and fs sl- own apartment. It doesn't take too This movie is really funny, and don’t get in North America and the them. Hemakes them more real, more ‘multancously hysterical and a com- much imagination o guess what hap- gorgeous to watch. Not since Cop- cameraabsoluelylingersonthem. Like inane than pethaps they relly ae. plete endictment of our mlx-and- pens in this revolving-door post Res- pola’s “One from the Hear” and Fel- the ruby fingernails, clutching the Hetreatsallhisactorslikesubjects ‘match, wash-and-wearsocialmores. tortion comedy of manners. Pippa, lini's “And the Ship Sails On” have blenderodgazpachoagunstafiey print in an art work, No one's there just for Pippa, avoice-dubber, and adver- unaware that Carlos even had a son, sets been made so deliciously fake, blouse. filler. Everyone has their own perfect tising mom to a mass murderer, has takesanimmediateinterestinthe young Andwheredoes this guy gethisfaces? Every woman inthis filmison the _cinematiemoment, whichleadsto some bbe left by Carlos, her live-in co- man, even as she isin fact pregnant Thecomedy comesfrom astrange verge of nervous breakdown. The wonderful ensemble acting worker who, she thnks, is ging fora withhishalf-brother. Everything goes place, too. Sure, there's abit of slap- men are giant caricatures, affable in With the fast-paced veneer of vacation wth hs estranged wife. His awry when the Modigliani girlfriend stick and comedic tension and weird their own ways, but far from unthreat- superficiality and wit pasted all over wife, left when pregnant with his son drinks the spiked gazpacho, Pippa's angles and dry deliveries and absurd ening, undangerous. They seem to be Almodovar's lms, hereminds meof 20 years before is insane, andlives in girlfriend sleps witha Shite erorst__visuals, but i isthe language, amaz- the unwitting protaganiss behind the dressed-down intensified Oscar Wild, the last year she remembered happi- group, and the telephone company ingly enough, that cartes the politics angst ofall these women, Inwould notbe impossible to hear him ness, nd inthe samewigs. he detests showsup. Meanwhile,Carlosistaking ofthehumourinbetweenclichédnon- It's not that Almodovar is some whisper, upon his deathbed, “Either her son, becauseheremindsherof the offto Sweden withhisex-wife'sbrow- sequitors. The excellent subtiling is farsightedmalevsionary whoisabove this wallpaper goes or Igo.” husband who abandonedher. Herson, beating lawyer, on the same plane the worthy of comment forits sensitivity all the trappings of his phallocentric intum, is eloping with his Modigliani Shite terorsts have targeted for ex- to the nuances of both language and culture, is just that he sees it, he by JOHN WERTSCHEK AT TOP VOLUME low! Now shatwassomething. and then fell as completely as Rigo- of arespecuble provincial family.The of happiness in the seclusion of the _hadn’t.ifonly wehadssid..but what Tie Vancouvers Opera's produc- let's when he discovers his own ac- opera originally staged inthe 1850's, country:Paradise,however,asweseem else could we have done? ton of Rigoletto last month wasone tions have led ohis daughter's death. was an intial failure. Verdi reformed to believe is as permanent a avoid. tisalways suprising these such ‘of the best productions D've seen in Now, they're at it again! The it, changing the seting to 1700, and As in all tragedies, the couse is familir music and realize the context. ‘many a moon: Innovative staging, VancouverOpera'sup-comingproduc- since 1854, it has become one of the set andthe story immutably builds to You'll recognize quit a few arias and classic tale of frony and tragedy, tion of Giuseppe Verdi's La Traviata favourites ofoperslovers. Mostrecent the inevitableend, Wordsby Alfedo's finally know the story. superb music and lbretto and fl- (TheLostOne)promisestobeasplen- performancesstageitinParis,butagain father lead to actions, misunderstand- La Traviatas atthe Queen Eliza nally, voles that delivered the tre- did weat. With some ofthe most mov- inthe 1850's, ings, bad timing, unspoken felings, beth Theatre April 22, 25, 27 and 29. rmendous resonance required to ing and memorable music of any op- ‘In Act I, as Violeta’ gaiety is and tragic confusion. Eventually the Spocil deals for tickets (as chesp as make any work great. 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Pree @ IN SHOPPING Mlle ‘minutes has here come tobe. choose to filltheir days with idle chat- and whathis granddaghtr'stakingin Ihave to listen to sadness and loneli-_ there's no time for mundane chatter Tmembarassedthatoldmen,from ter in shopping malls. ‘university. Hong formesningfulintel- ness that has no place in shiny shop- _ withlonely old menin shopping mall a generation which embraced the Andwhenlsitnexttoone, resting Iectuaiing withsomeone who under. ping malls. human spirit, sit in these shopping my weary fetfrom thetortue of fash: stands the foreign debt. Then I'm And.sometimes, when|'m back in