Colleges get more leeway on ancillary fees

The Ontario Ministry of Training, Colleges, and Universities has released a new set of guidelines regulating college ancillary fees. The new regulations, drawn up in response to a court ruling on the legality of ancillary fees, place fewer restrictions on colleges.

Ancillary fees cover expenses that are neither funded by government, nor covered in tuition, such as athletic centres and dental plans, and on average amount to $643 per student. The new policy, effective next fall, prohibits colleges from charging ancillary fees for resources necessary to program delivery, as these should be covered by tuition, but allows for fees used to enhance student life. The new guidelines do not specify what is considered a basic program and what is an enhancement, leaving postsecondary institutions with a great deal of flexibility in determining ancillary fees. The guidelines also allow for a maximum annual increase of 20 per cent without approval from students.

The policy comes in the wake of a $200-million class action lawsuit launched against 24 Ontario colleges by students Dan Roffey and Amanda Hassum. The students sued for the return of the extra fees covering computers, libraries, and labs, claiming that since these were academic services, charging extra for them was illegal. The court ruled that the regulation of ancillary fees was the responsibility of the government, not the courts.

According to the Canadian Federation of Students’ Ontario chairperson Shelley Melanson, the new guidelines do little to remedy the problems introduced in the lawsuit. Melanson said that not setting a standard for what constitutes a “basic program” invites disproportionate charges of fees depending on which institution you attend. She said that the cap at a 20 per cent increase per year still allows for prohibitive costs.

However the College Student Alliance, which represents students at 16 of the 24 Ontario colleges, commended the policy for not dictating exactly what is basic versus an enhancement, recognizing that each college is different.

Surging women’s team looks ahead to playoffs

The University of Toronto Varsity Blues women’s soccer team lost last Saturday to the Nipissing Lakers. The heartbreaking 2-0 loss ended Toronto’s spectacular four-game streak that saw them climb the national rankings to fourth in the CIS. It also ended their two-and-a-half week reign as the top-ranked team in the OUA as they fell to second behind the University of Ottawa.

The results at Education Centre Field are disappointing for the Blues. Toronto has built high expectations through the first half of their 14-game season, dominating their opponents in their last four. Undefeated at home with a 7-1 record, the Blues had proven to be a top contender in the OUA.

“It’s been a really great team effort,” explained interim head coach Eva Havaris on September 28 following the game against RMC. “The girls are really applying everything and everyone is stepping up all over the field. It makes it tougher for those teams coming in to play us. We have a fantastic group of girls; a very coachable group. When we have a game plan and a focus for the week, every single person is applying it.”

A defence-first mentality is a winning tactic for the team. It has proven to be the Blues strongest asset on the field and the toughest for their opponents to overcome. Prior to the game against Nipissing, they allowed only two goals in eight games played. In their game against the Royal Military College Paladins, the Blues completely shutdown their opponents as RMC failed to muster even a shot on goal all game.

“We’ve got some experienced players back there that are really solid,” said Coach Havaris. “They are committed to that defensive part of the game and all of them are playing as a unit right now.”

While the defence has always been strong for the Blues, their offensive game has shown remarkable growth. They outscored their opponents by a stunning 20-1 margin in the four games prior to Nipissing, compared to the 6-1 goal margin in the four games before that. Coach Havaris stressed that the team’s recent offensive surge coincided with the coaching staff’s plan for the season.

“We had an entire season planned as a coaching staff,” explained Coach Havaris. “For the first phase, we were focusing on our defence. We’re just finishing up our phase two now which was all about our transition game and our finishing. For the last two and a half weeks what you are seeing is a product of our practices and our game plan.”

Even with Saturday’s loss, the Blues are well positioned to receive a first-round bye in post-season quarterfinal action and a chance to finish first overall in the OUA. With only five games remaining in the regular season, the players are looking eagerly towards an opportunity to have home field advantage in the quarterfinals and possibly the finals.

“[The playoffs are] definitely not in the back of our minds, it’s definitely in the front and that’s all that we really want to do,” said rookie forward Jennifer Siu. “And we’re going to work extremely hard, [and do] whatever it takes to get there and win.”

“It’s in the back of our minds, yes of course, but as a staff that’s not our focus,” said Coach Havaris, who was quick to emphasize that she was still taking things one game at a time. “Our focus is to get to that next point that we want to get to as a team. The biggest part is that we’re on track for what we want to achieve by the end of the season. Now we’re entering phase three of our plan.”

Voting isn’t just a right—it’s a responsibility

“You may not be interested in politics. But you may be sure that politics is interested in you.”

—J. B. Priestly, author, broadcaster, veteran

You are born. The hospital in which you first meet the world has been purchased with tax dollars from generations of Canadians. Your doctors and nurses are paid with money collected from your parents and theirs, your aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and everyone else. Already, everyone in the country has a stake in you—an investment of capital. You are named and it is notarized for your birth certificate, your passport to the rights and privileges of Canadian citizenship. You are on your way. Even though you don’t know about politics, politics already knows about you.

You are brought home. Your crib has been inspected under rigorous safety regulations. Your blanket materials have proven both safe and new. Government agencies have provided your caregivers with certified information about the nutritional value of your food—it’s right there on the jar. You develop a nasty little rash, but a quick search of the Health Canada website shows that it’s most likely nothing to worry about; with a change of soap brands, it clears right up. You are now more comfortable, so you and your folks can sleep through the night. All the while you are protected by a vast extended family of fire fighters, police officers, and EMS attendants. Before you could possibly care about politics, politics is caring for you.

You start school. You can be certain of your teachers’ competence because your government ensured that they spent years learning their craft. Tax money, collected in communities around the country, provides you with books for reading, paint for art, computers for exploring, and a safe playground for recess. With these tools at hand, you gain an inkling of your greater interests. These ideas and interactions will lead to your career and hobbies, and enable you to begin your cycle of contribution to the national neighborhood. Whether or not you choose to learn about politics, politics is learning about you.

You begin to take responsibility for your decisions. Maybe you decide to go straight to college or university, and do so through the use of a student-loan system. Maybe you fall in love and decide to settle down and raise a family; once again, hospitals and product-safety regulations become a concern. Maybe you decide to take up a skilled trade, and want assurance that your workplace is safe and that you will be paid in full and on time. Maybe you decide to become one of our soldiers or decision-makers. Whether or not you work in politics, politics is working for you.

You store the money you earn in banks and financial institutions regulated by your government. You pay taxes and begin to invest in your fellow citizens the way they have invested in you. You buy a car and rely on roads. You buy a home and rely on public utilities. You travel, become an activist, support charities, become a patron of the arts, a peewee coach—you do it all. But you must consider your number-one responsibility to your national community: you must decide whether or not you will vote. Politics shines upon every facet of your life, and you must decide whether or not you will be counted among those who make the decisions that affect your life. You may not be interested in politics. But you may be sure that politics is interested in you.

Justin Chatwin is a student of the University of Toronto and your federal NDP candidate in the riding of Eglinton-Lawrence. He wants you to vote, even if not for him.

No reason to feel blue

I had the good fortune of covering the Blue Jays’ final home game of the regular season against the Yankees for the radio station FAN590. I’ll admit I spent most of the first half helping FAN reporter, Zack Cooper, figure out the drafting order for his hockey pool. This sort of thing can happen during a meaningless game of baseball, even with Roy Halladay on the bump looking for his 20th win of the season. But at least I wasn’t as bad as Barry Davis from Rogers Sportsnet, playing Scrabble with his wife over Facebook. Though if I think about it, I’m sure if I had a laptop, I would have been on Facebook improving my online pickup lines.

It was probably the fourth inning when I started to pay attention. The Jays struck for three runs to make it a 5-1 game, and I was feeling some excitement for Halladay. While watching Halladay dominate the Yankees is always exciting, this time it felt different, removing some of my disappointment for the Jays’ offense wasting the best pitching staff in the Majors and missing the playoffs for the fifteenth straight year. Fans at the game gave Halladay huge standing ovations after each inning, going crazy after Halladay finished the game, securing his 20th win.

“Did you see who was the first one to congratulate Roy?” Barry Davis asked me. “A.J. Burnett,” he said. Good ol’ Burnett finally had his breakout season just in time to opt out of his contract and ask for more money. But the fans were happy, the players content, and it made the season feel like a success despite how frustratingly inconsistent it had been.

The game left me wondering whose fans were more disappointed with their team this year: the Blue Jays or the Yankees? Spending the entire summer at the FAN, I had read many articles on the Jays’ lack of offense, GM J.P. Ricciardi’s incompetence, and A.J. Burnett’s questionable future in Toronto. I’m sick of the Toronto media continuously bashing the Jays. It seems like they forget that the Jays are in the toughest division in baseball against the two biggest payrolls in baseball, the Yankees and the Red Sox. Now, the Jays also have to deal with the powerful Tampa Bay Rays, who came out of nowhere to win the American League East this year.

If I were a hardcore Yankees fan this year, I’d probably be borderline suicidal. Yankee Stadium closed down this season, and for the first time in 13 years the Bronx Bombers didn’t make the playoffs. What a year to come up lame. There will be no playoff games in Yankee Stadium’s swan song. This disappointment comes amidst the New York Times reporting that the Yankees’ deal with New York City to build their new billion-dollar stadium may have violated tax regulations and state laws. Ticket prices for halfway decent seats in the new stadium have soared to the point where a $500 seat near home plate will be considered a bargain.

But hey, the team’s payroll for 2008 was a mere $209 million. If they want to maintain that exorbitant payroll, they’ll have to hit up the fans for more money despite having a crappy season. God knows the Toronto Maple Leafs have no problem doing that. Let’s do the math: the Yanks’ 89 wins costs around $2.35 million per victory. Compare that to the Jays’ $98 million 2008 payroll and 86 wins, and you’ve got just under $1.14 million per win.

The highlight of my final home reportage was the post-game interviews in the Yankees’ locker room where I saw first-hand just how tough the New York media can be. Yanks’ manager Joe Girardi was getting killed on questions about him allegedly covering up an injury to his all-star closer Mariano Rivera. The media repeatedly insinuated to Girardi that he had caused the injury by using Rivera too much after the pitcher complained about his body being—and I’m not making this up—“cranky.” When the press had finished with Girardi they openly and heatedly discussed him in front of several Yankee players. On the way to the press box, some angrily suggested that Girardi should be fired.

While it was frustrating to watch an entire Jays’ game this season, I think cheering for the Yankees would have been much, much harder.

A culture of cutbacks

Throughout this election—which Stephen Harper so hastily called—there has been a lot of talk about the arts. I have joined a group of artists who are very concerned with Mr. Harper’s ideas about art. For me, his disposition towards the arts is a symbol of everything he stands for.

We must remember that Mr. Harper started this debate by eliminating—two weeks before calling the election—two government programs that helped artists present their work overseas. Though these programs were small, Harper’s actions had a greater impact. Soon, almost $50 million in other program cuts were uncovered. These cuts show a systematic change in government policy.

I am more concerned about the bullying manner in which those programs were eliminated. It shows how we can expect Harper to act in the future: unilaterally dismantling public institutions that have taken generations to build—our universal health care system, and our status as a peacekeeping nation in a world plagued by conflict—and vetoing real progress by ignoring the hard facts of climate change.

It’s hard to know where Mr. Harper will hit next. Many Canadians feel like deer in headlights, frozen by the glare.

I try to think of everything as part of a whole. As an artist, I tend to think of life “culturally.” How we talk, act, dress and behave is no less important than what we have learned, where we work, who we love and how we live—they are all part of who we are. Every part is important.

You can apply this holistic way of thinking to the arts. Everyone knows something important about Canadian culture, whether it’s the fact that Karen Kain was lead ballerina of the National Ballet, Margaret Atwood is a famous writer, or Joni Mitchell was born in Saskatchewan. Not all Canadians attend the ballet, read Atwood, or like “Big Yellow Taxi,” but they recognize the significance of each. These artifacts define us as Canadians, just as much as the skits of Rick Mercer or the music of Holy Fuck. Canadian arts include the whole nation: you can’t pit what plays in Moose Jaw against what happens in Vancouver, Winnipeg, Peterborough, or Halifax.

As artists, we cannot let Mr. Harper pit pop music against the concert hall, comics against painting, or Jeopardy against Passchendaele. Harper can’t convince us that he’s putting more money into the arts when we see how the cuts happen—by whim: cuts here, payoffs to Conservative supporters there.

Mr. Harper would like us to believe that the many aspects of Canadian life can be divided, that one thing is the enemy of another, one person is worthy and another expendable. This breeds ignorance, or worse, elevates it to a virtue.

Mr. Harper scares me. He scares a lot of people. And when we are afraid, it’s hard to make good decisions. That is how our Prime Minister operates: by lowering our expectations, reducing our sense of self-esteem, intimidating us into giving up on the things that engage us, the wonderful differences that move and change us.

I can’t tell you how you should vote, or whether voting will produce the result you want. You have to make up your own mind. You have to vote with your conscience and put your faith in the electoral system. All I can hope is that you do vote, and that you do so with confidence—in hope, and not out of fear.

Robert Labossiere is a member of the Department of Culture, an ad hoc movement of artists engaging with the issues during the current election. The opinions expressed in this letter are strictly his own. Get involved

America Votes 2008 Debates

Round 1: Presidential Smackdown

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the main event! In the red corner, Republican Senator from Arizona, Mr. Straight Talk himself, John “Maverick” McCain! And, in the blue corner, the junior Senator from Illinois bringing change we can believe in, Barack “The Star” Obama! Hold on to your seats, folks. This could be one heck of a show!

Except that it wasn’t. Both candidates did well—they reiterated their positions, and clarified the differences between their policies and ideologies. But there were no zingers, no confrontations, and no real interactions. PBS journalist Jim Lehrer, the moderator for the evening, practically had to beg the candidates to speak to each other.

The score:

Point to Obama for linking McCain to deregulation and trickle-down economic policies.

Point to Obama for countering McCain’s earmark-and-pork-barrel spiel with his plan to cut taxes for 95 per cent of the population.

Point to McCain for highlighting his own foreign policy experience.

Point to Obama for switching the focus to the war in Afghanistan and the unfinished business there.

Point to McCain for making Obama capitulate on his previous pledge to meet with dictators without preconditions.

Point to McCain for his stamina and energy—and not looking like he was going to die and leave (shudder) Palin with the presidency.

Could anyone have predicted this? After 90 intense minutes there is no clear winner!

Round 2: Vice Presidential Sudden Death

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! Tonight, the number-twos go head to head. In the red corner, armed with a hockey stick in one hand and lipstick in the other, Alaska’s very own pageant queen, Governor Sarah “Pitbull” Palin! And in the blue corner, the scrappy senator from Scranton, “Average Joe” Biden! Place your bets now, people. This could be the last time you see such an uneven match-up!

It was hard to look at Palin without thinking about SNL’s Tina Fey. But alas—Palin (seemed) to have her act together, and didn’t leave Fey with (many) “Silly Sarah” moments to spoof. Still, the match was won before it started. All Biden had to do to succeed was avoid a memorable gaffe.

The score:

Point to Biden for being an excellent surrogate for Obama, and accurately outlining the ticket’s policies and positions.

Point to Palin for being “Maverick” McCain’s biggest fan.

Point to Biden for answering the questions that were asked.

Point away from Palin for going off on random tangents when she didn’t like and/or understand the question.

Point away from Palin for answering “I’ve only been at this for five weeks” when asked what campaign promises she’d have to break in light of the bailout plan.

Point away from Palin for attributing climate change to the cyclical temperature changes of the planet.

Point to Palin for correcting Biden: “The chant is ‘Drill, baby drill!’” (as opposed to “Drill, drill, drill”).

Point to Biden for being a foreign policy expert and countering Palin on every count. (Surprise, surprise.)

Point to Palin for just being so adorable!

What’s this? The judges have reached an agreement: “Pitbull” Palin is awarded a honourary win for NOT making a fool of herself! “Average Joe” may have shined out there, but not failing counts too.

All Nuit Long

6:42p.m. Jade: But is it art? Preparing for the long haul ahead, I pick up a coffee at Bloor and Spadina. As usual, there’s somebody sitting directly outside the door, ratty coffee cup in hand, asking for change. This time though, it’s a lady wearing a nice red coat, singing operatically about how she got a free pizza at the park. Whether it’s official Nuit or not, we’re off to the races.

7:37p.m. Chandler: Took a cab to Ryan McGuinness’ collaged and colourful symbol-laden paintings in the Distillery District. It’s nice, think Takashi Murakami without the misogyny with a black light installation that’s like cosmic bowling, only cooler.

7:45p.m. Jade: Took a good 15 minutes to find Kelly Mark’s Horroridor, but it’s no fault of the artist. What does “west lower entrance” mean, anyway? The exhibit itself, representing the pervasive gendering of fear, was a great starting point for the evening. As they were leaving, a group of women started mock screaming. Kelly Mark smiled from the sidelines. Said another woman: “I should write comments at the bottom of my booklet: ‘Took way too long to find the exhibit.’”

8:30p.m. Sarah: I arrive at Lamport Stadium in Liberty Village, where a security guard has to check my purse so I can see some mascots dancing in John Solecki’s I Promise It Will Always Be This Way. We’re calling out, ordering them to dance, but they don’t seem into it. This isn’t ironic enough to be funny.

8:35p.m. Rob: I kick my night off with the NB Post exhibit in Yorkville. I scribble down a quick message onto a postcard and drop it in the box. The post cards will be delivered randomly all over Zone A, and I hope mine gets to the right person. To my right, a large group of revelers are waving a giant Russian flag and singing what must be their country’s national anthem. Go Art! Go Russia!

8:39p.m. Chandler: Larry McDowell plays a tortured prisoner, blindfolded and silent in Berkzy Park. The fountain is full of foam that my brother and I fling at each other despite the eerie ambience.

8:46p.m. Sarah: The aptly titled SMASH! Droppin’ Stuff is pretty much an accurate description of two teenage girls in a cherry picker dropping a twenty year-old computer monitor onto a pile of junk.

8:49p.m. Jade: Alternator features miniature nodding donkeys seeping up oil spills on the ground of a parking garage. While conceptually nice (maybe I’m just part of the problem), I find the scale of the pumpjacks somewhat underwhelming.

8:50p.m. Sarah: I stop at Balzac’s for a coffee. It takes ten minutes and costs four dollars. It’s still early enough that hyperactive children are everywhere. Ew.

8:52p.m. Jade: “That’s a little explicit for me,” a boy, maybe seven years old, commented on Stillnessence as he left. “Oh my lord!” exclaimed another. Kids’ honest response to this projected collage of Torontonians clothed and naked was the main point of engagement for audience members with this work.

8:57p.m. Rob: I take in the Rockers exhibit at Liss Gallery. It’s mostly just famous photos of John Lennon and the Clash in New York. Across the street at the Four Seasons, a group of dudes with guitars are being loaded into a white limo. One of them tells the driver, “We’re in a band, we just wanna, like, cruise around for an hour. Cool?”

9:00p.m. Sarah: Next to the stadium is a giant white sign announcing Yoko Ono’s exhibit Imagine Peace. Organizers are handing out white cards and pencils, encouraging passers-by to write hopes, dreams, etc. hung on the surrounding trees. I’m there early, but all the good branches are taken. I spitefully read everyone’s wishes.

9:02p.m. Justin: Maple Leaf Gardens—Toronto’s hallowed grounds. The place where so many dreams have been broken. Were the Leafs ever good? Does this exhibit even matter? Screens are set up on the arena floor displaying what seems to be two bubbling milk vats gone so sour they’re waxing philosophical. The congealing substances discuss the Other and their place in an urban environment. I’m confused.

9:25p.m. Justin: Zombies have taken over College Park. This exhibit is largely ineffective—no one knows what’s going on and the zombies aren’t even staying in character. Wait! A sexy zombie girl is approaching me. Damn, I wish I were dead.

9:40p.m. Chandler: I’m smoking suspiciously free shisha care of the Ryerson Urban Hip Hop Union. Somehow this neither decreases nor increases my understanding of “art.”

9:45p.m. Sarah: SNIFF, LICK, PINCH, NIBBLE, SWALLOW by Noni Kaur is a visual project made of coloured coconut and rice, and it may be the highlight of my night. You can eat it, make designs in it, and it looks like actual art, not some amateur OCAD project. Plus, after you walk around, they give you free soup. I’m waiting for the point in the night when you can step in it, but I never get there.

9:50p.m. Justin: At Ryerson’s Devonian Pond, rubber ducks float amid an artificial mist.

10:00p.m. Sarah: I stumble upon a renegade project, Fugitive Chicken by Bryan Belanger. It’s a little plexiglassed truck, and inside the artist is wearing a chicken mask with three hens sitting around him. It seems Twyla, Rose and Buttercup lived with him for weeks before the show, and he’s obviously developed quite a bond with them. Adorable.

10:05p.m. Wyndham: After waking late from a three-hour nap and stumbling through the subway, I arrive at a disappointingly quiet Queen’s Park. The only evidence of the scheduled Sound Forest exihibit is the strains of a drum circle, so my comrade and I busy ourselves by scoping the crowd for sexy strangers.

10:16p.m. Jade: The financial advisor execuspeak of Commerce Court advertised the opportunities presented by global warming and the market’s “correcting” of itself, degenerating into “Are you tired? Want to get off?”

10:17p.m. Rob: I dig the lighting of the plastic Waterfall at the Toronto Hydro building, but it isn’t quite as big as I expected. Why are so many exhibits not nearly as towering as advertised?

10:20p.m. Justin: Dundas Square is packed tight with energized patrons waiting for their fifteen seconds of fame. The spotlight descends, sending its target, a frail old man, into hysterics. He bursts into dance. I never get my fifteen seconds.

10:30p.m. Sarah: Overflow is set in an abandoned building, with water flowing onto the rubble below. Not much to say about this, but then that’s probably because there’s a giant gate separating us from the “art.”

10:33p.m. Wyndham: Since it housed my favorite exhibit last year (the adorably awkward Dance With Teacher) I had big hopes for Hart House. The series of video instillations, however, plays like Visual Studies 101-reject projects. The only upside is Loverboy, an artistic confection of candy spread out across the floor of the map room that shifts shape as passerbys stop to sample the goods.

10:39p.m. Justin: A gentleman exits the Massey Hall exhibit, looks me in the eyes and shouts, “There’s art, and then there’s just stupid!” I walk in to find a faux office corridor in an alleyway, covered in garbage—the epitome of contemporary art. I wonder what the message is?

10:42p.m. Rob: I approach Stock Extravaganza with limited expectations. It’s a miniature concert in a trashcan. Yes, that’s right, patrons are lined down the block and around the corner to leer into a trashcan. The security guard assures me it’s not worth my while, and I’m inclined to believe him.

10:45p.m. Wyndham: After pilfering a coconut souvenir from the courtyard, we make for Atom Egoyan’s much-hyped Adoration Street. The streetscape is not as expansive or detailed as promised, and the effect of the various screens is difficult to decipher. The crowd is eating it up with a spoon though, so maybe it goes over my head.

10:57p.m. Rob: The giant twirling blue balloon at the Eaton Centre is a masterpiece. Unquestionably the highlight of the evening. I love stuff you don’t have to think too much about.

11:05p.m. Wyndham: After munching on a lemon tart for sustenance, we make for OCAD. The excitement is palpable at Grange Park, and everyone seems to be waiting for something to happen. The AGO light show is only mildly interesting, and the conversation of art doesn’t seem to be extending much beyond the comparison of hipster moustaches.

11:45p.m. Rob: City Hall’s Stereoscope is excellent on a grand scale. Every window is lit up like a giant pixel. Someone’s playing Pong and Snake on a massive cell phone of bureaucracy!

12:30p.m. Sarah: Oh, here’s that giant blue bubble in the Eaton Centre. What the heck is this? It looks like an inflatable pool.

12:31a.m. Justin: Devonian Pond has devolved into a free for all. People are knee-deep in the water hurling ducks at both the crowd and each other. The crowd scatters and the ducks are gone. I imagine the artists will get a fierce reprimand from PETA.

12:51p.m. Rob: Justin’s odd description of Maple Leaf Gardens turns out to be spot on. I think I appreciate this more as a sports fan and less as an art lover.

1:00a.m. Chandler: I met God (played by Evan Tapper) at InterAccess Media Centre just in time to absolve my sins for Yom Kippur. The automated receipt makes me feel much more secure.

1:05a.m. Jade: Definitely one of the best exhibits this year, Conversation #2 is partly destroyed by the time I arrive, so I can’t walk inside the room created from this circular mosaic of book spines. Still well appreciated though, the piece lived up to its name, both as subject of conversation and suggestion of how books speak to one another.

1:04a.m. Rob: Why was the 15 Seconds spotlight set up at the brightest intersection in Toronto?

1:06a.m. Wyndham: Trinity-Bellwoods is almost completely empty, so we make for Swizzle Studio to get our fake IDs made. It’s all fun and games, but the artistic element seems a little lacking. Despite ample searching, I’m unable to spot the Lausberg Contemporary’s 1,000 glowworms that are supposed to be illuminating the park.

1:17a.m. Rob: Where did all the Ryerson ducks go?!

1:43a.m. Chandler: At a tiny Queen West gallery near Gladstone, a local artist exclaims his love for Rod Stewart, miming an air-mandolin solo. I’m examining portraiture inspired by Led Zeppelin’s Zoso, drinking complimentary red wine, and saying “wassup” to Kevin Drew.

2:07a.m. Wyndham: After enduring some cringe-worthy beat boxing and spotting a few errant zombies along Queen West, we try to get a buzz off the cuteness emanating from the yarn-made Toronto streetscape in Knit City mingling with the ganja that is increasingly perfuming the air.

2:16a.m. Justin: The excitement is dying. Rob and I decide to look for a cab, kicking off perhaps the most frustrating adventure of my entire life. Stay tuned.

2:21a.m. Justin: Rob’s having trouble thinking of a word that starts with “a” and means “selfless.”

2:28a.m. Chandler: An amazing Queen West gallery installation intersperses pictures of Scar Jo’s ass and the Third Reich with German nihilist élan. Someone must have really hated that Tom Waits album.

2:29a.m. Justin: Fight! A massive brawl rolls on to Queen Street and completely destroys an independent exhibit. In the distance, sirens are heard amid sounds of glass and noses breaking. Two guys escape the fight, faces smeared with blood. I guess it’s the art of street fighting?

2:30a.m. Sarah: I am lame. I decide to ditch the party and go home, but not before scamming the TTC by using my five hour-old transfer.

2:38a.m. Justin: An impromptu folk jam breaks out on Queen West, and I join in. Looks like it’s just a regular night in the neighbourhood.

2:45a.m. Chandler: The Gladstone’s Eyes On Toronto all-night talk show is doing “Comedy-okee,” in which everyday civilians recite material from Bill Cosby and Sarah Silverman. Too bad the teetering sorority sister onstage is too drunk to even read, let alone pull off George Carlin’s “7 Words.”

2:49a.m. Justin: The word is altruistic.

3:00a.m. Chandler: The evening’s most sentient advice comes in the form of a four foot-high snowman mounted on the top of the Queen/Dufferin bridge with a hand-scrawled sign reading “Fuck The Past!” We scream it all the way to Brock Street, which advertises a free peep show. It’s a bust.

3:01a.m. Wyndham: A gallery between Ossington and Dufferin showcases my favourite display so far, a falling snow exhibit entitled Black and White that isn’t even part of Nuit Blanche (and will be up for a few weeks.)

3:21a.m. Rob: I still haven’t found a cab. I feel like Don Quixote.

3:34a.m. Justin: A disgruntled drunk emerges from the darkness and beats the crap out of an inflatable sex dummy. Typical.

3:48a.m. Wyndham: All night I’d been waiting to witness the dancing mascots in I Promise It Will Always Be This Way, and they deliver. Again, it’s debatable whether a crowd encouraging a furry, fatigued warthog to shake it has artistic merit, but I love it—the role reversal and audience participation are as post-modern as the night has been thus far. Just like me, the costumed shark and jersey-clad bumblebee are sleepy and disillusioned, but they keep on dancing.

4:00a.m. Jade: I arrive at the UC back campus. As usual, Hart House is coehesive, fun, and conceptually rigorous. Wild Signals and Innis College’s Adoration Street are personal highlights.

4:06a.m. Justin: After two and a half hours of excruciating exploration, we find a cab and are homeward bound.

4:15a.m. Chandler: Local novelist Brian Joseph Davis has got two stacks of TVs playing various DVD menus, buzzing and bleating in conjunction with his luminous soundscapes in an abandoned Liberty Village barn. I’m not sure if I’m ending Nuit Blanche with a bang, or a cacophonous whimper.

4:17a.m. Rob: On the way home, earlier than last year. I guess that’s progress. The consensus tonight seems to be that while most of the art wasn’t…and the expectations were…but it’s great that people come out to Nuit Blanche to see and experience….ZZZZZZZ.

5:01a.m. Jade: I’m cold, tired, and think it’s contextually inappropriate to celebrate any sort of car (let alone somebody’s weird brand fetish for Subaru, specifically) in the UC quad. Walking around Zone A to catch up on some of the things I missed the first time around, most things are closed well before dawn.

7:00a.m. Jade: What constitutes dawn? Not sunrise, right? Whatever, the sun is breaking, I’m going to bed.

Born To Be King

You’ve seen his picture by now: a weatherbeaten old guy who looks like he’s seeking revenge on the punk who stole his bathrobe. Most Toronto theatregoers are probably no less familiar with King Lear’s story of family betrayal than they are with the new Hart House Theatre production’s poster. At a moment when most are concerned with real life conservative leaders, the story of a fifth-century politician might not seem like the coolest ticket. But Hart House offers a slick, cinematic Lear which embraces the play’s drama and humanity, making a thriller out of a wizened script.

This fast-paced production does everything it can to keep the audience on the edge of their seats. Director Jeremy Hutton makes the most of the web of deceptions which keep Lear’s plot moving. The King’s famous offer to reward his daughters’ love with political power is refracted throughout the play: love is a currency to be counterfeited, and the relationships are so confused that even honest characters must wear disguises. Hutton intersperses scenes with split-second tableaus that hint at the progress of each character’s schemes. The performances are highly energetic and physical, and the violence comes early and often as every character fights for their life. (The physicalization of the language does get a bit literal: there’s more pelvic thrusting in this Lear than in any production of Rocky Horror.) Still, the eagerness in which the actors embrace the humour of Shakespeare’s storytelling adds to the suspense. When Benjamin Blais’s slimy Edmund calmly assures the audience that he has “seen drunkards do worse in sport” while preparing to slice his arm, the ripple of laughter running through the theatre is just as surprising as the abrupt slaps, shifts, and scene changes.

Not that the show isn’t technically impressive. Even Scott Penner’s set keeps you guessing. It starts as a line of pillars and an archway, which obscure half the stage. But during the frequent blackouts they move as nimbly as the actors, as hollow and changeable as the edifices the characters create. Whenever someone drops their act and speaks directly to the audience, time suspends, the others freeze, and backlighting renders the granite transparent. As Lear gradually abandons the social and political structures upon which he’s always depended, the set makes itself scarce.

Lear’s journey from a ruler who conceives of love as a political tool to a desperately grieving father is the heart of this play. Peter Higginson’s dynamic performance makes us pant to keep up with Lear’s rocky spiritual journey. He begins as a swaggering SOB who soaks up his family’s knee-jerk applause and determines the fate his country with a whim and a map. Higginson shows us a complex Lear whose series of self-discoveries leave him cranky and infantilized, comically self-pitying, then utterly liberated, dancing in the flowers and the rain.

When most of us think of modernizing Shakespeare, we think of swapping swords for guns and jerkins for jeans. But this production has no trouble pulling us into a world which is—or at least looks—very different from our own.

Rating: VVVv