From November 9–24, Hart House will host a production of The Penelopiad, based on the novella and theatrical adaption of the same name by Canadian storyteller Margaret Atwood. The story uses a female perspective to deal with themes such as class, feminism, and violence.

The Varsity sat down with Michelle Langille, the show’s director, and Jeanne-Arlette Marie Parson, who plays Anticleia and one of the maids, ahead of their Hart House debuts. They discussed the premise of The Penelopiad, its adaptation, and the relevance of staging an all-female play in today’s political climate.

The Varsity: Could you give us a quick summary of the play?

Michelle Langille: The Penelopiad is essentially a reimagining or re-exploration of Homer’s myth, The Odyssey, so the story of Odysseus. Odysseus had a wife named Penelope, who very, very lightly appears in the story and is sort of seen as this faithful woman who sat around for 20 years while [Odysseus] went off and fought in the Trojan War. He then had all these crazy adventures on the way back to her, and she’s sort of viewed as the most faithful, the most patient woman in that mythological world. So, Margaret Atwood has written a story that basically gives us her side of the events and what happened to her while she was waiting for Odysseus.

TV: Why did you want to be a part of The Penelopiad?

Jeanne-Arlette Parson: I was definitely drawn to [her] imagining of The Odyssey — kind of flipping history and letting our voices be heard, especially in this time and with the theme of sexual violence and rape claims and accusations. I think it’s really important, especially having a full-female cast, to really have our voices be heard and shed light on what’s going on and reflect reality in order to hopefully inspire people to take action and be a part of her story and… what’s going on in today’s society.
ML: I’m really interested in the idea of how we silence women and how women silence other women. It’s coming more and more to the front and forefront, the idea of intersectional feminism, which is that idea that I, as a white woman, can talk about my experience, but there’s always going to be another woman whose experienced not just what I’ve experienced because she’s of her gender, but because of her race, because of her status, because of all of the things that have factored into who she is, which is really a thing that kind of gets pushed to the side sometimes.

TV: The play deals with a lot of mature issues. What message do you want the audience to take away from it?

ML: Action. We’ve talked a lot about how Atwood’s play was written. It continues to gain in relevance, which is exciting for theatre-makers, but it’s sad for the world. We’ve gained more vocabulary around this kind of stuff, around feminism and around equality and around what the dangers are of not listening and not being heard, and then the way that we treat women’s voices.

If we’d done the play six months ago, we wouldn’t have the Kavanaugh experience, but there were other things that were shifting and so, every time this play gets revisited, I think sadly [that] it’s still relevant to the world. Like Penelope says in the script, “I can see that your world is still as dangerous as mine was, way back then. Through eons we still continue to suppress the voices of women.”

JP: I think it also gives light to the women who are complicit in what is going on. Kavanaugh’s wife and people who have that privilege, who can stay silent because they may have had some experiences but because of their status, they don’t have to deal with it if they don’t want to and I think Penelope is kind of a perfect example of that.

When we’re all gone from this earth, [what matters is] what guilt are you left with, what did you do to make this world a better place, what did you do to help someone who was in need, kind of thing.

TV: Was it important to you to do the play right now during the #MeToo era, with Kavanaugh and everything that’s going on?

ML: The pitch had been accepted before the Kavanaugh thing even started. Back in the spring, I knew I was doing the play and I knew why I was intrigued by it, but that’s actually just continued to deepen based on world events changing. I rewrote my director’s notes like six times because every week it was like, ‘Well, I can’t say that now because now it’s moved onto this; this other horrific thing has happened.’ It’s just crazy, depending on where your optimism levels live. It’s wonderful that the play can continue to be relevant and gain in relevance, but the fact of what it stays relevant to is a little depressing.

JP: It’s definitely very taxing on actors and directors because we know these things are still happening — and kind of getting worse, to be honest — in the world. It’s also a collective — almost bravery to be like, ‘Hey guys, we’re putting our emotional selves into this piece of work to show you the reality in maybe a different way, in a way that you might understand’ and hopefully that can inspire people to continue to do the work that needs to be done to help change it.

TV: Can you tell us about the character who you’re playing?

JP: Anticleia is the mother of Odysseus, wife of Laertes, and the mother-in-law of Penelope. She’s also the granddaughter of Hermes, [who] is the trickster god and messenger god, and she’s very cold, especially towards Penelope in the beginning, but I still think she has a caring undertone because she knows the responsibilities [that Penelope is about to have]…she didn’t really have the closest relationship with her son, although she still obviously had the mother’s love for him, and she knows that this will be most likely the same thing that’s going to happen to Penelope. She has very curt little remarks, which are really fun.

All in all, I think her role in the story is to just give the pillars of Odysseus’s life, to show his upbringing, and why he is the way he is, as well as sympathize with Penelope and her story.

TV: How did Margaret Atwood adapt or change her novella for the stage?

ML: The novella is obviously more in-depth and more structured as a trial, [and] I think we’re still holding onto those aspects [in] the play. It’s obviously shorter, but a lot of what’s in the novella is actually in the play. [Atwood] just sort of took the novella and stripped things away to highlight the most dramatic or the most important elements and things that can be staged.

There’s a lot of costume changes and assuming of different characters, so she offers us a lot in terms of the idea of clown satire. I know she [touched] a little on the satire plays of Greek theatre. In terms of it being different, it’s the same but it’s different. I think Atwood tried to pick and choose what she thought could translate the most, from the image world [created her novella] in your mind to what you can physically put on the stage.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Content warning: references to sexual assault.

I love horror movies. I love everything from the super cheesy ’80s slasher flicks, to the most twisted and intense psychological horrors — provided, of course, that they don’t demonize people with mental illnesses.

But alas, my deep disappointment with horror is the treatment of women and sexual violence. Women’s bodies become ragdolls to be thrown around, either to fuel male emotion or for the sake of pure shock value. Women’s sexuality too often becomes the deciding factor in who gets to survive until the end, with the virginal ‘final girl’ rewarded for chastity while still being heavily sexualized.

Enter Gerald’s Game, the 2017 Netflix horror and thriller based on Stephen King’s 1992 novel of the same name. The setup is easy enough to follow: Jessie (Carla Gugino) and her husband, Gerald (Bruce Greenwood), decide to take a romantic vacation to a lake house in the middle of nowhere, as many ill-fated couples do.

The game in question comes when Gerald decides to put Jessie in a pair of handcuffs for some roleplaying. Jessie agrees, then becomes uncomfortable. The two argue and suddenly, Gerald drops dead.

Handcuffed to the bed and totally alone, Jessie could easily be the chained-up prey of any would-be killer from a film more entrenched in the stereotypes of the genre. Instead, Jessie is forced to confront the truth about her life: her failing marriage to Gerald, her history of being sexually abused as a child, and the silence with which she has endured all of it.

Rather than be an object of disgust, horror, or shock, Jessie’s trauma is simply presented as it is, with Jessie’s fear stemming from the silence she has been forced into all her life.

There are some old-fashioned scares as well, with Jessie hallucinating the ghost of her dead husband and being interrupted by a grave robber and serial killer in search of treasures, but ultimately, the movie is Jessie’s journey.

Gerald’s Game is an intensely realistic examination of memory and trauma. The lead female character is never an accessory to another’s story or shamed for her choices.

This is the kind of story we need right now, the kind that knows how to scare you without any cheap tricks or jump scares. The scary monster is, in the end, what Jessie has to live with: silence, shame, and trauma.

Whether you’re a goblin or a ghoul, every creature that dwells in the darkness loves to get down and freaky at a good dance party. Halloween is upon us once again — there will be pumpkins, monsters, but also parties popping up to scare you at every street corner in the country.

If you choose to host a party, or if you just want to get into the Halloween groove, here are my top 10 Halloween songs to help you become a frightfully good party host and get all your monster homies into the Halloween spirit!

“Monster Mash” by Bobby “Boris” Pickett, 1962

This song has withstood the test of time. The lyrics of this iconic song allude to monsters such as Wolfman, Frankenstein, and Dracula all enjoying a spooktastic dance party. It is truly a graveyard smash with its catchy beat and addictive lyrics.

“Thriller” by Michael Jackson, 1982

The music video for this song is almost as famous as the song itself. Who can resist hordes of zombies dancing in unison? As a bonus, no mere mortal can resist the legendary Vincent Price doing a stellar voice over.

“It’s Almost Halloween” by Panic! At the Disco, 2008

In the middle of the dark woods, there is a party in a clearing. Are those mummies, vampires, and werewolves partying? Nope! It is the American pop punk band in full costume! Although it’s one of the newer songs on this playlist, Panic!’s “It’s Almost Halloween” might just be the best in the genre when it comes to explaining just what Halloween is really all about. Check out the music video for the full picture.

“I Put A Spell on You” by Jalacy “Screamin’ Jay” Hawkins, 1956

This song has risen in popularity through its many covers and is also featured in the classic 1993 Halloween film Hocus Pocus. The original singer of this song was frightful in his own right, because Screamin’ Jay usually pulled voodoo aspects into his performances. It’s a great one and definitely worth a listen!

“Addams Family Theme Song” by Vic Mizzy, 1964

They’re spooky and they’re kooky! In the 1960s, there was a fondness for the unconventional, yet still relatable, child-friendly world of the monsters. Not only was The Addams Family a result of this trend, but it also produced The Munsters and Bewitched.

“Ghostbusters” by Ray Parker Jr, 1984

Just like many other songs on this playlist, this is a track to a cult classic Halloween film. Ghostbusters has a sequel and a feminist revival too, leading to more alternative renditions by artists like Fall Out Boy and Missy Elliot.

“Calling All the Monsters” by China Anne McClain, 2011

“Calling All the Monsters” makes appearances on numerous Disney television shows. The lyrics are about facing your fears. Compare that with the monster-filled dance party in the music video. What more is there to say? Give it a play.

“Spooky Scary Skeletons” by Andrew Gold, 1996

There’s just something about those darn skeletons which keep bringing the spirit of Halloween year after year! This song became popular after a video of a pumpkin-masked, black leotard-clothed man did his fangtastic dance on YouTube. Give it a watch. I dare you.

“This Is Halloween” by Marilyn Manson, 1993

Marilyn Manson is scary. Now imagine him creating a song about the scariest day of the year. Terrifying, right? This song rose to popularity when it was featured on the soundtrack of Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas. It’s a classic and you should pop it on your party playlist ASAP.

“Modern Monster Mash” by Key of Awesome, 2014

This one is a little different from the rest. Instead of being a song on a CD, this Halloween hit is actually a YouTube viral sensation. Creative YouTubers Key of Awesome updated “Monster Mash” by changing the lyrics to include newer horror film icons. You’ll find Freddy Krueger from The Nightmare on Elm Street series, Michael Myers from The Halloween series, Jigsaw from Saw, Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre series, and many more.



The premise of the novel being ‘dead’ first arose during the rise of nihilism: the denial or lack of belief in meaningful aspects of life.

Though many have claimed that this was an exaggeration, with the rise of social media has come an entire generation that has been removed from literary culture. Our most well-known creative outlet is now YouTube.

YouTube is both a blessing and a curse. Watching a world of Californian YouTubers and their lavish lifestyles easily leads down a rabbit hole of random videos about ‘Twitter beef’ or ‘tea’ that apparently needs spilling.

Along with this new cultural phenomenon comes the unfortunate decline of time being spent on ‘traditional’ hobbies. What I am referring to is the kind of thing that your parents would say if they saw you binging Netflix for hours: “When I was your age we had to spend our time doing something offline. Do something else! Go outside, ride a bike, or read a book!”

Literary fiction once dictated popular culture, but with the rise of the digital age, the hunger for new stories has been satisfied by movie adaptations and audio books.

The sponsoring of YouTubers by companies like Audible has greatly increased in popularity. Audio books are considered to be easier to ‘read’; people can experience ‘reading’ a book while doing other tasks at the same time. This has resulted in fewer purchases of hard copies. In turn, many book stores, particularly independents, have had to shut their doors.

Personally, I find that listening to a book does not give you the same feelings as picking up a new book and experiencing that euphoria of ‘new book’ smell does. It truly is a sad moment every time someone tells me that they have not even heard of some of the greatest books of all time, never mind having read them.

Literary culture has dwindled down to sappy Wattpad stories of a girl reading in a café or a park and meeting the boy whom she will later marry. The days of literary puns and classic English literature are long gone. Every so often, a book series will send popular culture into a frenzy, leaving behind a whirlwind of heartbroken teens and fierce fandoms, but for the most part, literary culture is slowly being lowered into its grave.

Even when speaking to friends of mine, many say that they “love the idea of reading” but can’t stay focused on a book long enough to finish it. Honestly, how can I, or any other book lover, blame them? This generation has been trained to be accustomed to the fast pace of social media and its continually growing collection of memes.

All that remains of literary culture is what hipsters have made from romanticizing the idea of reading in a café and having revolutionary ideas. The sad truth is that, in a world in which the novel is so out of sync with a society molded so heavily by meme culture, the idea of someone reading could actually be seen as incredibly intellectual.

Reading is no longer associated with leisure. Novels have now become intertwined with academia and schoolwork. The automatic instinct for many children, teens, and adults is to grab their electronic devices and play games, listen to music, or use social media rather than immerse themselves in a story beyond themselves and the world around them.

Reading is now looked upon as an acquired interest rather than a common hobby. It seems like reading has returned to being a refined art form, and the glory days of being ecstatic when your parents took you to Chapters or the local book store are no more.

The traditional novel is obsolete beside ever-advancing technology. Literary culture, to most people of this era, is dead or dying.

I subscribe to the school of thought that the Halloween season should be as widely appreciated as the Christmas season. Every October 1, I immediately bust out all my creepy clown decorations, pour over my horror movie collection, and start saving up for my Halloween costume.

By Thanksgiving, my mantelpiece is littered with jack-o’-lanterns, witch paraphernalia, and a tasteful rhinestone-encrusted skeleton head. It seems that the only thing missing from this otherwise robust holiday season, at least vis-à-vis Christmas, is the music.

Halloween music is a genre that proves frightfully sparse. Aside from a few classics, there’s not much to pick from — and there are only so many times you can play “Monster Mash” before you start doubting whether it would really be a “smash” in any graveyard.

Enter the musical genius of Danny Elfman. Perhaps the greatest Halloween CD of all time, The Nightmare Before Christmas never fails to get me in the Halloween spirit. But with only one 1993 CD in my Halloween music arsenal, I, much like Jack in “Jack’s Lament,” “have grown so tired of the same old thing.”

From this need for even more Nightmare music, the brilliant cover CD Nightmare Revisited emerges. It offers a second album for your Halloween playlist, as well as a much-needed intersection between emo culture and the world of The Nightmare Before Christmas.

The album’s standout is Marilyn Manson’s glorious heavy metal rendition of “This is Halloween.” Other tracks seem less intuitive, yet offer the same vitality; Rodrigo y Gabriela perform an enchanting instrumental cover of the iconic “Oogie Boogie’s Song,” featuring an ensemble of intricate acoustic guitars in which even the throaty percussion is provided by drumming on guitar bodies.

The beauty of this cover is that it doesn’t try to compete with the wildly entertaining original — unlike Tiger Army’s slightly off-putting attempt at remaking Oogie Boogie’s anthem — instead offering something entirely new. In contrast, Amy Lee’s rendition of “Sally’s Song” is indisputably better than Catherine O’Hara’s weak original, and her sultry vocals make this track perhaps the most worthwhile one on the album.

The standout on the 1993 CD is arguably the Christmas classic “What’s This.” Though nothing can beat Danny Elfman’s version, alternative metal band Flyleaf delivers a dream-like rendition, heaviness dripping from each note. The song begins with a panoply of instrumentation, featuring slow guitars and crashing drums blending with languid, fluid vocals. Tying it all together to make pure rock-and-roll psychedelia, Flyleaf’s “What’s This” ends in a surprising minor key, offering the song a haunting tone that makes it perfect for when you’ve been listening to the original on repeat for several hours and need something slightly new — but only slightly.

Alternatively, Fall Out Boy offers another take on “What’s This,” overlaying tinkling piano with electric guitar and drawing listeners in with a breathtaking opening note loaded with melisma and melody.

Other tracks that shouldn’t be missed include Korn’s nu-metal spin on “Kidnap the Sandy Claws,” as well as The All-American Reject’s impressively angsty “Jack’s Lament.” Rise Against lends the already frenetic “Making Christmas” a punk rock sound with fast heavy guitars, distorted instrumentation, and spitting vocals.

The lesser-known “Town Meeting Song” is revamped by The Polyphonic Spree as an epic rock opera reminiscent of Rocky Horror, transforming a three-minute plot-driven song into a goliath nine-minute masterpiece.

So if you’ve been decking the halls with pumpkins and cobwebs, but you can’t seem to find the right Halloween tunes to tie together the spooky ambience, give Nightmare Revisited a try for a twist on your favourite holiday classics.

Hart House opened its 2018–2019 season with a bang, or rather, a series of bangs, followed by an explosion. Adapted from the darkly comic teen film of the same name, Laurence O’Keefe and Kevin Murphy’s Heathers: The Musical premiered in Los Angeles in 2013. Released in 1988, Heathers became a cult classic for its violent characters, disturbing story, and morbidly cynical take on bullying and suicide. One can only assume that the demand for a musical adaptation was unanimous and vehement.

Director Jennifer Walls did perhaps the only reasonable thing to do with such an absurd, violent, and irreverent story: a lot. Heathers throws everything it can at the audience, seldom letting up. I entered the sold-out auditorium to the warm embrace of late-’80s pop hits, and the first thing that greeted me was the extravagant set. A brightly coloured and nightmarishly skewed vision of a high school hallway, it looked something like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari meets Hairspray, like how a row of lockers might look if you were on a seesaw and acid. It was impressive, and immediately set the tone for this energetic and disorienting show. A barrage of bright, colourful, categorically ‘more-is-more’ sights and sounds were to come.

Our protagonist, Veronica, is a 17-year-old nobody at the fictional Westerburg High School, who is later indoctrinated into the school’s most popular group of girls, the Heathers. There are three of them, and they’re called the Heathers because each of them is named Heather. Get it?

Veronica is played by Emma Sangalli, whose enthusiasm makes the coming-of-age scenes a joy to watch. Sangalli especially shines in the smaller moments, like Veronica’s brief asides to the audience, where she takes what might have been forgettable lines or inconsequential bits of exposition and infuses them with a genuine sense of charm and spontaneity. She greets new experiences — donning her Heather outfit, getting drunk at a party for the first time — with a sort of giddy disbelief that makes her character eminently likeable.

Justan Myers has the perfect look for his character, Jason “JD” Dean, and he nails the suave punk ethos. He nails it — perhaps, a little too much though. Especially during the beginning of the show, Myers wears an almost permanent smirk, which stifles and flattens the underlying pain implied by his lines. However, he more than compensates for this in his final song “I Am Damaged,” as he explodes into a fit of seething, spitting rage that genuinely terrifies. It’s exciting to see an actor become so truly monstrous onstage and, aided by creepy chiaroscuro-like lighting, which provides a strong contrast between light and dark, Myers’ face in these moments may be the most memorable image from the show.

PHOTO BY SCOTT GORMAN, HART HOUSE THEATRE

Oddly, Heathers succeeds most in its darkest moments. Becka Jay makes a remarkable impression in her relatively small role as Heather McNamara — the third most senior Heather, for those keeping score at home. After a series of comical and absurd murders that are framed as suicides, this Heather is the first character to actually attempt taking her own life. Jay makes the character seem truly unstable. Heathers is extreme and impassioned, but watching these scenes, I realized that I’d been somewhat starved for moments of genuine intensity. Jay’s raw, visceral agony — and JD’s similarly fever-pitched meltdown — seem to be the only answer to the bubblegum-craziness of the rest of the story.

I haven’t yet mentioned the music, because it is not very memorable, but the choreography is beautiful. It’s dynamic without being excessively complex, and most numbers end with a tableau silhouetted against a single-colour wash of backlight, which is, honestly, just cool. The band, led by Jonathan Corkal, is also excellent, particularly in more rock and funk-driven songs like “You’re Welcome.”

Despite the enjoyable instrumentation, however, “You’re Welcome” struggles to strike a balance between the comedic tone of the show and the attempted rape in the accompanied scene. It replaces a song from an earlier version of the musical, “Blue” — as in balls — which drew some criticism for making light of sexual assault. Here, the real peril of Veronica’s situation is clear, but it’s a difficult emotional balancing act for the viewer to also laugh at the jokes.

I must also mention the song “My Dead Gay Son.” There is a twist in this song, which I won’t reveal, except to say that it truly exemplifies the balls-out absurdity that the show constantly strives for. Throughout Heathers, there is an attempt to mix senselessly tragic situations with excessively cheerful pageantry to create an irreverent sense of absurd humour. The musical pulls it off with mixed success, with “You’re Welcome” in particular struggling against this tension. But “My Dead Gay Son” is such a fantastically silly culmination of so many ridiculous plotlines that I wish that the characters it focuses on had a show of their own.

When Heathers was over, I wasn’t quite sure how to feel. The play ends in a chaotic rush of so many events, increasingly outrageous, resolved and unresolved and resolved again, that you’re given no time to think anything except, “Why did they dedicate an entire song to Slurpees?” Suddenly, curtain call. I clapped for the lovely actors, staggered out of the auditorium, and tried to figure out why O’Keefe and Murphy wanted me to see what I just saw.

Something to do with inclusion? Something to do with the power of friendship?

For the discerning viewer, I’m sure there are scores of powerful messages to be drawn from this story, which touches on so many urgent and timely themes. I’d try to find just one to highlight for you, but if I think about the show much more, I’ll get brain freeze.

Heathers: The Musical ran from September 21 to October 6.