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Campbell does the cabinet shuffle

Arts get lost in a game of musical chairs, who says politics are boring?

Stephanie Cadieux & Gordon Campbell

By Cody Klyne, Arts Editor

ordon Campbell doesn’t think
Gs are boring, that’s for

sure. At least that’s the myth
it appears he was trying to debunk,
as well as attempting to prove how
wacky politicians can be, last week
when we saw a number of bumps
within the Premier’s cabinet. In
essence, what’s happened boils down
to a downright zany organizational
mulligan. As if for the fun of it, or out
of desperation, like a child bullying
a square peg into a round hole,
Campbell mixed up his ministers
who were only just recovering from a
similar swap-a-rama performed back
in 2009.

Purportedly restructuring,

rebranding, and renovating 16 out
of 24 ministries (at the time) in all,
it’s fair to say that Campbell’s most
recent cabinet shuffle comes across
as a little frantic. One contrasting
example of this peculiar behavior
comes to light in the decision to split
the province’s ministry of education
into three entities—K — 12, College,
and University — while choosing to
combine forestry and mining into
one. It’s as if he drew cue cards
marked “cut” or “combined” while
simultaneously throwing darts at
a corkboard covered in post-its
representing the various ministers
and ministries. But here’s the real
kicker, the real coup de grace, and
what in particular about this most
recent political mixer has gotten my
knickers in a twist: the Ministry of
Tourism, Culture, and the Arts has
been subjugated, okay that’s a little

 

dramatic, “rebranded” as the Ministry
of Community, Sport, and Cultural
Development.

Not only does this new ministry
evoke thoughts of a government
entity in charge of yogurt, it lacks
one crucial word: art. Now, whether
this is simply a Chicken Little “the
sky is falling” concern birthed out of
syntactical fanaticism or a genuine
shot at the arts sector in this province,
it’s hard to deny that the absence of
this one little word sends a message:
the arts aren’t the priority they should
be.

Doomsday hearsay aside, there’s
a silver lining here that deserves note.
Kevin Krueger, the now outgoing
Tourism, Culture, and Arts Minister,
has been moved to a new portfolio.
This is the same man who, as recently
as this past September, likened
members of the arts community to
“junkies waving a needle,” following
allegations of threats having been
directed towards his person. With
this in mind, his move is a weight off
of both his, and the collective arts
community’s, shoulders. But with
Krueger gone, who’s going to be
the minister of this newly reformed
ministry?

Her name is Stephanie Cadieux,
and, while she’s expected to pull
relatively small weight as the
newcomer, her background in the arts
as the past president of Vancouver-
based theatre company Realwheels
Society is an encouraging thing of
note. In this hostile climate, both
culturally and otherwise, only time
will tell if she’s up for the task. Either
way, I’ll be watching.

 

 

Bind.

Looking back at ‘Lillian Alling’

The brand new Vancouver Opera production seven years in the making

By Angela Espinoza,
Arts Reviewer

Irene (Judith Forst) packs for her
move from a British Columbia
forest to the city. Accompanied by her
son, Jimmy (Roger Honeywell), Irene

takes advantage of their long trip to
tell him the story of the mysterious
Lillian Alling (Frédérique Vézina).
Now in 1927, the beautiful Russian
blonde has immigrated to New York
City. She tells all that she is searching
for a potential fiancée by the name

of Jozéf Nikitich Lazinsky (Thomas
Goerz). She hops a train from New
York to North Dakota, only to find
that Jozéf has since left. With a look
of determination, she walks from
North Dakota all the way to British
Columbia. On her journey, she passes
the Telegraph Trail, where, amongst
others, she catches the eye of one
Scotty MacDonald (Aaron St. Clair
Nicholson) — Irene’s late husband and
Jimmy’s father.

This, only a condensed half of
a colossal tale, is the premise for
Vancouver Opera’s latest endeavour.
Lillian Alling has been an on-
going project since 2003, receiving
commission in 2007 and finally
premiering in October 2010. Inspired
by a true story, Playwright John
Murrell conceived the idea for Lillian
Alling after reading a passage about
her that contained a photo. In the
picture, Alling is dressed ruggedly,
with the same determined look
that appears in the opera and the
program’s artwork. Murrell has once
again collaborated with composer
John Estacio to give life to the
operatic epic.

Once the opera received co-
production from the Banff Center,
Lillian Alling was able to expand on
its technical scale. The show features
projections, at one point of rain that
blends with the murky lighting to
create a rainy Vancouver. In another
intense sequence, we see projections
of Vézina hiking up a mountainous
terrain that eventually leads to a
waterfall; at this point, the on-stage
Vézina bravely crosses a deteriorating
one-man bridge that collapses
afterwards.

The creative team consists of

[: 1980, an elderly woman named

 

 

some acclaimed names in theatre,
including set and costume designer
Sue LePage and lighting designer
Harry Frehner. The show is directed
by Kelly Robinson, whose many
credits range from directing and
choreographing productions of The
Mikado to Guys and Dolls. It is

with conductor Jacques Lacombe’s
skilled hand that neither those of the
orchestra nor the immense Vancouver
Opera Chorus miss a single beat.

As for the main cast, theatre veteran
Judith Forst finds her incredible vocal
talents shared by the likes of all —
virtually everywhere from Vézina’s
hopeful soprano to Nicholson’s
embracing baritone, with Colin
Ainsworth’s (portraying several minor
characters) endearing tenor proving
an audience favourite.

From October 16-23 at the Queen
Elizabeth Theatre, Lillian Alling’s
premiere consisted of four sold-out
shows. The opera lasts roughly three
hours, but it’s so beautifully executed
and features such an entertaining
story, the time went unnoticed. So
much so that our showing lasted
an additional ten minutes from the
audience’s ovation. It’s a particular
treat for residents of B.C., from
Alling’s temporary incarceration at
Okalla Prison to a chorus of men
singing in Morse code across the
Telegraph Trail. Despite Lillian
Alling’s journey, we’re not trudging
any new ground, but that doesn’t
make the show any less remarkable.

Oeoerm:

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