March 24, 2004 Culture e the other press © Practicing Democracy Creating dialogue and law Carla Elm Clement OP Contributor “Come back home with me,” Angel says to Karla as they huddle togeth- er in the cold and rain. “I'll take care of you, girl.” Words of comfort, except that for Angel ‘home’ is a dumpster she shares with her com- panion, Trade. Watching an early scene from Practicing Democracy, | better realized the hardships and daily concerns of those directly affected by province-wide welfare cuts: a dumpster isn’t just a source of discarded pop cans, clothing and food, for many it’s the only shelter available—it's a place called home. Headlines Theatre’s Practicing Democracy is stark, enlightening and ultimately empowering, for actors and audience alike. As Headlines’ Artistic Director, David Diamond, explains at the start of the play, the audience is about to experience a unique kind of theatre—theatre that breaks down distinctions of actor and audience, stage and seats, voice and silence. This is participa- tory theatre along the lines of renowned Brazilian _—_ director Augusto Boal. The ‘spectator’ becomes the ‘spect-actor.’ At the end of _the brief 25-minute _ play, Diamond returns to the stage. “Now we're going to present it again,” he says with a smile, his eyes grandmother, Nan, to take her in. As I play out the role of Elaine, and Nan refuses to help, I argue that I could organize her medication and provide safety—that we could help each other. Nan isn’t convinced. She asks how I'll be able to afford rent and refuses to raise a newborn. I end up frustrated, but this is part of the exercise. Diamond facilitates the ensuing discussion. “We have expec- tations about family, don’t we,” he asks the audience. “That they'll come together and help each other.” But this doesn’t always happen. Emily Maine, who plays Elaine, is a single mom with first-hand knowledge of low-income survival. And her situation is compelling: she used to be a welfare worker until welfare cuts ended her job and she ended up on welfare herself. Distinctions of oppressor and oppressed begin to fade. As we sit on the back steps of the theatre after the play, Maine describes her frus- trations in front-line welfare work: “T felt like my hands were always tied,” she says passionately. She takes a drag on her cigarette. Maine is keen to raise awareness of her per- spective and the perspective of oth- ers affected by welfare cuts. I ask what practicing democracy means to her. “It means giving everybody a way to plug in—to connect—and to have their voice heard.” Her only food line-up violence is a fearful reality that many in the audience aren't aware of intense. This time, he invites any- one in the audience to stop the play and come forward if they have an idea how to change a character's actions—if these new actions will help to ‘create safety’ in the charac- ter’s life. A ripple of unease passes through the audience. No one seems prepared to pass through the barrier from spectator to participant. But, as the play resumes, many do come forward. Each shares an idea for change—some naive, some brilliant. Each audience intervention raises questions of practicality. Most sug- gestions present new, unforeseen barriers to safety. Standing in a food line rather than swiping produce from a grocer is shot down: food line-up violence is a fearful reality that many in the audience aren't aware of. After each intervention, Diamond calls upon the audience to voice suggestions—specific ideas for policy change—that will be sent to Vancouver City Hall. He points out a woman with a laptop at the back of the theatre. She’s a lawyer hired to record and compile all suggestions. And City Hall has agreed to honour the resulting document. Not only is Practicing Democracy patticipatory theatre, it’s a true attempt at legisla- tive theatre. I decide to participate in a scene with Elaine, a jobless pregnant woman who asks her low-income concern is that the play ends up preaching to the converted. “Who are the converted?” Diamond asks when I mention Maine's concern. “I don’t think the converted exist,” he says emphati- cally. He stresses that everyone takes away something new from each per- formance, whether they're content, living a life of oppression or know of others that are struggling. Or if they're an oppressor themselves, whether they realize it or not. “Oppressors are always part of the community,” Diamond points out. Practicing Democracy is about pro- viding a space for dialogue and empowerment. And about coming up with practical ideas for change that will help to diminish the roles of oppressed and oppressor alike. It shows us the harsh realities that many around us grapple with daily. In a warm-up exercise, Diamond asks the audience to stand and remain standing if we know some- one affected by the welfare cuts. Only a few people sit back down. Diamond pauses then says, “the story is with us in Vancouver.” Practicing Democracy ended its runon March 21, but the resultig document lives on. For more infor- mation about Practicing Democracy, visit their website at . Visit Headlines Theatre at . Rugby Beach Club Grille —The Art of A la Carte Amanda Aikman Culture Editor When was the last time you treated yourself to a fancy-pants dinner out? Bearing in mind that opting for the Filet o’ Fish does not consti- tute fancy-pantsedness. Well, if it’s been a while (and even if it hasn't, | mean dinner isn’t a one- in-a-lifetime proposition, my fr- iends) then have I got a restaurant for you—The Rugby Beach Club and Grille. This trendy West Broadway eatery features an a la Carte menu that allows patrons to build their own meals. The menu is divided into mains, vegetables, and carbs on one side, with a selection of salads and appetizers on the other. It’s perfect for all of those annoy- ing people who constantly harass servers to substitute the salad for the potatoes in other restaurants. Carb junkies can have garlic- mashed potatoes with latkes and pesto pasta, and Atkins enthusiasts are free to get the steak, the chicken, and the lamb. No need to hide your Brussels sprouts under your napkin anymore either. If you don’t want veggies, why not get a lobster or alli- gator skewer instead? Or better yet, just get a couple of appetizers to split with your dinner companion and save room for the drool-inducing dessert menu. My suggestion—the Smoky Grilled Duck. At $6.50, this starter is not only scrumptious and filling, but affordable too. Plus it looks real pretty. It consists of four rice-paper cones stuffed with smoked duck, sprouts, carrots, and celery, which are flash fried and served over a small cabbage salad, accented with an unbelievable sweet chili sauce. You will die, I swear. And when you do, you won't mind if I finish your dinner will you? No sense in letting good food go to waste. Duck isn’t your bag? Well, how about crab? They do a fabulous crab cake, two generous-sized cakes with salsa and garnish for $7.95. The lemon-grilled salmon is hot stuff too. And the grilled seasonal vegeta- bles—don’t get me started. But enough about fish and veg- etables and all that, let’s get down to business. Drinks and desserts busi- ness, that is. This place has a drink menu that will blow your mind but not your budget. Crantinis for $2.44. Pints of imported beer for $3.50. Margaritas, Cosmopolitans, Green Apple Martinis—a girly drink drinker’s dream, all for around $3. It’s no wonder the bar area is always filled to the gills at this place. And for those of you out there whose server can never seem to keep up worry. The Rugby Club also pro- vides wandering “cocktail waitress- es” to pick up the slack in between visits from your designated server. Then, of course, there are the desserts. For under $5 I had the most amazing combination of whipped mint cream, chocolate wafers, and fresh berries to ever grace an oversized caramel-drizzled plate. Just thinking about it makes me cry. The Rugby Club (201-950 West Broadway) opens daily at 4:24pm, and there is usually a line up to get a table by 5:30, especially on the weekends. Call ahead and make a reservation (604.736.2438), or take your chances in line (hey, you might get lucky and find a spot to wait at the bar) but don’t wait to treat your- self any longer. Put down that Filet o Fish—you do deserve a break today. Simon Hatton OP Contributor Ever wonder what Vince Neil, bad- boy singer of the 80s’ debaucherous hair metal band Motley Criie, eats for breakfast? Or how about if MC Hammer, rapper-turned-evangelist will ever let somebody “touch this?” Sociologists, anthropologists, and general pontificators alike have been obsessed with these questions for some time now. Well, the wait is over. The answers to these questions and many others related to the lives of long forgotten C-list celebrities have now become readily available through the new reality TV series, The Surreal Life. The premise is not new to the reality TV world. Basically, just throw a bunch of mismatched strangers (aforementioned C-list celebrities) in a stylish mansion to live as roommates. Create some ten- sion by sending a few curveballs their way, and, make Corey Feldman cry. Most importantly, film every painfully awkward moment. We have seen it all before, but this is different. These particular partici- pants also have to deal with the stress of having once been famous and now becoming nothing more than a freak show or curiosity to the general public. Other fallen stars joining us in this study of has-beenery, are the perpetually pint-sized Emmanuel Lewis (Webster), 2001 Playboy Playmate Brande Roderick, Corey Feldman (The Goonies, The Lost http://www.otherpress.ca Boys), Jerri Manthey (Survivor: The Australian Outback), and Gabrielle Carteris (Beverly Hills 90210). This show couldn't have come at a better time. Just when I thought TV had taken a turn for the worse, along comes this thoughtful and tender program. How can we ever again feel sorry for ourselves and complain about the raw deal all us common folk have been dealt? Well, we still can. But we can also feel a little better about ourselves while we watch a desperate group of obsolete celebrities clamour for one last embarrassing moment in the spotlight. The Surreal Life can be seen on Much More Music, Sundays @ 5pm. Page 15