Anvil Centre

Vitaly Beckman at the Anvil

Vitaly Beckman will bring some of his best illusions yet to his Dec. 22 performance. (photo from eveningofwonders.com)

“I have been working very hard on some new illusions that I consider to be some of my best work yet,” Vitaly Beckman told the Independent. “I created a lot of my illusions during

no-show periods, a few of which I plan to include in the upcoming show.”

Vitaly: An Evening of Wonders returns to the stage on Dec. 22 at the Anvil Centre in New Westminster. While it is Beckman’s first live in-person performance in Canada since the pandemic started, he already has performed in theatres in the United States.

“It is certainly exciting to start doing live shows again – both performers and audiences could feel the void of live theatre during the past two years,” he said. “Life is really not the same without theatre.”

But there have been some benefits from the enforced hiatus.

“It is really helpful for the creative process to be able to focus on just one goal, and not be distracted by anything else for a period of time,” acknowledged Beckman. “So the lockdowns were helpful in that regard, as I managed to finish some really great illusions – one involves a sculpted bust, another involves an oil painting that comes to life and another, a matchbox. The latter I created while visiting my family in Israel. Actually, I’ve created a lot of my illusions in the past while vacationing there – it seems that the sunny place boosts my creativity.”

In addition to creating new material, Beckman has been busy in other ways, as well.

“It was certainly a long period to go without doing a single live show,” he said, “but I did a lot of magic for virtual performances and recorded an illusion for Penn & Teller’s Fool Us show, with a second appearance there.” (In that appearance, Beckman once again managed to fool the master illusionists.)

About returning to the stage, he said, “I was wondering if I would be ‘out of shape’ when performing again, however, from recent shows in the U.S., it was like riding a bike. I really enjoyed going back on stage and especially seeing how the audience left the theatre feeling uplifted and full of joy.”

For tickets to see Beckman on Dec. 22, at 7:30 p.m., click here.

My chat with Ed Asner

Ed Asner stars in A Man and His Prostate, which is at the Anvil Centre Theatre for two nights only: April 27-28. (photo from ACT)

I did my homework. I had read and watched interviews. I had my questions ready. I was prepared. But Ed Asner is a force of nature – a funny, caring and curious one, but a force of nature nonetheless. And nature is more powerful than the proverbial man. I learned that in high school English class – man has a chance against another man or his own internal demons, but not so much against nature.

I was calling Asner about his upcoming performances in New Westminster at the Anvil Centre Theatre April 27-28. He stars in A Man and His Prostate, written by his longtime friend Ed Weinberger, a multiple-award-winning scribe (including a Writers Guild of America Lifetime Achievement Award), who has written for countless TV series – for soooo many comedies. Both Weinberger and Asner know funny, so this show promises to be hilarious. But its purpose is also to make a point: “that point being,” Asner told me succinctly, “get examined.” Hear that, guys?

I’ve interviewed famous people before so that wasn’t the reason I got somewhat flustered in speaking with Asner. Admittedly, I loved and watched every episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show and its spinoff drama Lou Grant. I have enjoyed Asner in various other roles over the years, including on Murdoch Mysteries (as Santa Claus, of all things) and, of course, as the voice of Carl Fredricksen, the grumpy protagonist in Up, who made me cry. Hearing such a well-known voice respond to your questions is very cool, and a little unnerving, but there was more to it.

I called Asner at the number I was given by the publicist for the local show. The woman who answered the phone simply said he’d had to leave and that I should try his cell, so I did, thinking nothing of it. The connection wasn’t great, but I reached Asner – he was in an L.A. hospital waiting to get a CT scan. When I wished him well and said we could reschedule the interview, he said, “Let’s try to talk now. It’ll help me pass the time.”

As I started asking him questions, he stopped me: “Are you uncomfortable doing this?”

“No,” I said, “I’m happy to keep your mind off things if that’s going to help.” I got as far as finding out that Weinberger had approached Asner about a year and a half ago to take on this role, but the line really was bad and we weren’t hearing each other – he said he’d call me back. But it was Asner’s righthand man (Nick, I think) who phoned, telling me that Asner had gone in for his CT, and they would call again once it was complete.

Next call: “Are you OK?” I asked.

“I’m fine. Well, maybe a little dizzy,” said Asner. Or, at least that’s what I think he said. After a spike of feedback came through the phone, I admitted, “I can barely hear you.”

In a louder voice, enunciating carefully and speaking slowly, he responded, “I said, maybe a little bit of syphilis.”

I might have taken a beat before saying, “Oh my. Really?! Is that the headline I can put?”

While it may not be apparent on first meeting, I can be bawdy with the best of them, and I enjoy such banter when all involved are of age and it’s in good fun. And this would turn out to be one of the most fun interviews I’ve conducted.

Laughing, I said, “So it all went well, the CT scan?”

It had indeed. He’d had a fall but was OK. I thanked him for calling me back, and he let me know, “Well, I’m reversing the charges.”

“You should!” I said. “You’re paying for this now. Oh my gosh. I was hoping to get my parents to pay for it.” (I was in Ottawa, and was calling him from my parents’ house.)

“Ah, no, no, no,” he assured me. “Anyway, you’ve got a lovely voice.”

“As do you, of course. But a little more famous than mine.”

“Well, I’ve been working at it longer.”

We eventually returned to where we had left off. “Were you involved in any of the writing process, or is there improv involved?” I asked about the show.

“Not on this,” said Asner. “I worked with him [Weinberger] on our book together, called The Grouchy Historian, which came out in October. We worked together on that, but he wrote A Man and His Prostate all by himself.”

“And you obviously liked what he wrote.”

“I love it.”

Asner said his first performance of A Man and His Prostate was in the fall of 2016, but then he stopped the interview again, leaving the phone with Nick – the two were still at the hospital, about to grab a very late lunch. Getting into a rhythm for this interview was proving impossible. Case in point, when Asner returned to the line, he started interviewing me. Why was I calling from Ottawa? I explained I was at home for Passover and asked if he had attended a seder. “No, we were on the road,” he said, going on to ask me about the weather in Ottawa, how many were in my family, whether I had grown up in Vancouver. When I let him know that I had grown up in Winnipeg, he said, “Oh, God.” And, while I fumbled to regain my role as interviewer, he continued his train of thought, “Froze your ass off didn’t you?”

“I did,” I admitted. “And that’s why I live in Vancouver now.”

After some PG-rated politically incorrect exchanges, I managed to get back to my questions.

The first shows of A Man and His Prostate were in California, he said, then they did a few in New York.

“Do you do what the show preaches? Do you get regular prostate exams?” I asked.

“Well, I’m due for one, I must tell you,” he said.

Asner called A Man and His Prostate “wonderfully funny,” and said “it stresses a very important point – that point being, get examined.”

He said the show is “very rewarding to do because the laughter is prevalent.”

At 88, he has no plans to retire. As for his beginnings in the profession, he said his desire to be an actor “didn’t achieve consciousness until I did the lead in the play at university.” He said, “I had done radio in high school, and loved it, but full-fledged stage-acting, I hadn’t thought of that.”

That doesn’t mean he didn’t like the spotlight as a kid. “I loved to get up and sing Adon Olam louder than anyone else,” he said, adding, “My bar mitzvah was a failure.”

He explained, “I spoke too fast, and angered my father. I put my hands behind my back, hovering over my ass, that angered him, as well. I was a prize student … but that bar mitzvah was not of prime quality.”

Asner grew up in an Orthodox home and, he said, “I’d say I pursued acting, probably, as part of my atonement” for his bar mitzvah. He said acting was at least a partial atonement in that it involved “pleasing the crowd, reciting or reading the script correctly and empathetically … all kinds of things.”

While no longer religious, Asner attributed his activism to “the intensity of my raising, the love of my parents, the constant identification as a Jew, [being] born in the time of Hitler.”

The actor has seven grandchildren. When I asked about whether he actively tries to engage them in the world around them, he joked, “Nope. I don’t like ’em.”

“You only hang out with them when you have to?” I asked.

“Uh huh. They don’t like me. It’s a perfect fit.”

I told him how much I enjoyed the Funny or Die video Old People Don’t Care About Climate Change, in which he took part. I mentioned it because one of his lines in it is, “My grandkids are spoiled anyway. They could use a little hardship.” The video’s message, of course, is that younger people must take action to protect the environment.

“I worship the earth,” Asner told me. “I don’t necessarily worship any god.”

Returning to the reason for the interview, I asked him whether he had anything else to say about A Man and His Prostate. “You’ll be there, and you’ll see how right I was to urge you to come,” he said.

The show is about Weinberger’s “journey to discover his inner self both literally and figuratively,” reads the press material. “This near tragedy is masterfully transformed into a poignant monologue perfectly portrayed by Asner as he visits the hospital in preparation for a surgery he needs but doesn’t want.”

“There’s mostly jokes all the way, or building up to a joke,” Asner said. “But then we get to that little section where I talk about the celebrities who have died – it’s a long list of celebrities – and I make the serious point that, every 16 minutes, a man dies of prostate cancer in the United States.”

As we wound up, he said, “You’re a wonderful interviewer, I don’t care what they say about you.”

“You should only believe half the rumours,” I returned.

A charmer to the end, he said, “I can’t wait to meet you.”

After I told him I didn’t think that was an option for me, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because you’re you!”

He told me to tell the publicist, “Well, say that I asked for you.”

“OK,” I said. “And I’ve now got it on tape, so I can actually prove that I’m not just making that up.”

“That’s right,” he agreed. “That’s absolutely right.”

He said, I “could even bring Momma” – my mother had answered the phone when he called back.

“Momma might even fly to Vancouver for that,” I responded before handing the phone over to my mom so she could say goodbye.

For tickets ($75) to A Man and His Prostate at the Anvil Centre Theatre April 27-28, 7:30 p.m., visit ticketsnw.ca or call 604-521-5050.

Psychological thriller to play

Hannah Moscovitch (photo from Hannah Moscovitch)

Not one normally drawn to psychological thrillers, Little One intrigues me, in large part because its playwright, Hannah Moscovitch, has such an impressive track record. She has not only won multiple awards for her writing, but has done so while tackling an almost unbelievable breadth of heady topics, including, but not limited to gender politics, Stalinist Russia, the Holocaust, the Canadian military in Afghanistan, and the nature of time. In Moscovitch’s words, Little One “is an exploration of guilt, family, trauma and the limits of love.”

The synopsis for the play – which runs in New Westminster at Anvil Centre Theatre from Feb. 4-6 and in Vancouver at Firehall Arts Centre Feb. 9-13 – reads: “When 4-year-old Claire is adopted into the family, 6-year-old Aaron has to learn to ‘love’ his new monster of a sister. Told through the now-adult voices of its two main characters, Little One weaves stories of childhood horror and teenage humiliation into a twisted, wryly funny, and ultimately haunting narrative. One that asks how far you’d let a psychopath control your life, and what you’d do to regain it.”

photo - Daniel Arnold and Marisa Smith in Little One — Daniel Arnold and Marisa Smith in *Little One*. *(photo by Kaarina Venalainen)*

In a 2011 blog, Moscovitch pondered why she wrote Little One. In contemplating humor and darkness, she noted that the humor allows “the audience to relax and go with me into the darkness.”

In an email interview earlier this month with the Independent, Moscovitch expanded on this topic. “There is humor in life,” she said, “even in the bleakest circumstances (we know, for instance, from diaries written in the Warsaw Ghetto, that starving Jews, imprisoned there, being terrorized by Nazis, told jokes) and so I tend to want to include humor in my work in order to accurately represent life.

“I don’t know why I write about dark topics. They attract me. I also tend to write historical plays for some reason. I write a lot of works set in the 20th century. I can’t altogether explain my voice and my story instincts as a writer. My guess is, in dark circumstances, human nature is exposed, so I head to dark circumstances (war, disaster) to understand the human psyche.”

Now based in Toronto, Moscovitch was raised in Ottawa, which is where Little One is set. Given the complexity and emotional depth of her work, the Independent wondered what the dinner table conversation was like at home when she was growing up.

“My father is an economics and history professor (he teaches in the social work department at Carleton and his specialty is social policy) and my mother was a social worker and a researcher on women in unions and women in the workplace, so conversations growing up were on the serious side,” she explained. “Conversations were generally abstract, about ideas. Not much small talk.”

She seems very comfortable with having a play that ends with some questions unanswered.

“Clarity opens up one possibility in the minds of the audience. Ambiguity opens up two or more possibilities in the minds of the audience,” she explained. “It’s a sophisticated form of storytelling. Makes the story more complex.”

Moscovitch’s own story is relatively complex, and her path to writing a little winding. As high school came to a close, she auditioned for National Theatre School in Montreal, and then spent time in Israel on a kibbutz and in England when she wasn’t accepted. When she returned to Canada, she got into NTS, graduating from its acting program in 2001, though also being introduced there to playwriting. One of the plays she wrote as a student was workshopped by the Great Canadian Theatre Company in Ottawa.

Moving to Toronto, it only took her a few years to find her niche as a playwright. Her short play Essay premièred at the 2005 SummerWorks Festival; The Russian Play, in 2006, won the festival’s prize for best new production. Her first full-length play, East of Berlin, premièring at Tarragon Theatre in 2007, was nominated for a Governor General’s Award. And the rest, as the saying goes, is history. She has won multiple awards for her writing over the years, and her plays have been mounted in several different countries. She also writes for other media, including radio, TV and film.

In a 2014 article on kickasscanadians.ca, she said, “For me, there’s a big question about whether I want to be a Canadian playwright or an American TV writer.” Her answer so far is that she’s “a Canadian TV writer as well as playwright,” though she told the Independent, “My husband and I talk about moving to London or New York for a year, to meet new collaborators and immerse ourselves in a different theatre culture.”

In her work, she added, “I try to show Canada to Canadians. We see tons of work by Brits and Americans. Canadian audiences like to see themselves represented (is my sense).”

Other aspects that enter her plays derive from her cultural background, which is both Jewish (her father) and Catholic (her mother). She told the Jewish Daily Forward in 2013 that Judaism was the core of her identity and that she “write[s] a hell of a lot less Irish plays.” Since then, she told the JI, “I’ve written a play called What a Young Wife Ought to Know that draws on my Irish heritage! It’s set in a working-class Irish immigrant district of Ottawa in the 1920s.

Probably because I was immersed in my Jewish heritage growing up – including Hebrew school, temple, Jewish holidays, bat mitzvah, trips to the concentration camps in Poland and to Israel to work on a kibbutz – my Jewish side has always loomed larger in my imagination.”

She most identifies with Judaism’s traditions and holidays, “especially Passover and Shabbat. I’ve named my son Elijah. The oldness of our culture compels me, our 5,000-year history. I spent a lot of time reading about the Holocaust when I was younger and that’s influenced me profoundly.”

With such a talent in writing, it’s hard to believe that Moscovitch initially tried her hand at acting. “When I was younger,” she shared, “I wanted to be a lawyer or a librarian or a war journalist. I wrote poems and stories my whole childhood though. My mother tells me she knew I’d be a writer because I was always reading and writing growing up.”

As to her current projects, Moscovitch is as busy as ever.

“I have a première in Edmonton at U of A in March (The Kaufman Kabaret) and at the Stratford Festival in August (Bunny), I’m working on an opera with a Philadelphia-based composer named Lembit Beecher. Along with a number of collaborators, I’m co-adapting Fall On Your Knees by Ann-Marie MacDonald for the stage. I’m talking to a Japanese theatre company about writing a play about Hiroshima. I’m writing a project with Maev Beaty, Tova Smith and Ann-Marie Kerr about modern maternity (in development at the Theatre Centre). I’m talking to 2b theatre in Halifax about co-creating a project that would feature the lives of my Romanian great-grandparents, Chaim and Chaya (both of them arrived in Halifax when they immigrated to Canada).”

And dream projects? “There are a number of brilliant artists in Canada I’ve yet to work with,” she said. “I’m a big fan of Vancouver’s Electric Company!”

For tickets to Little One at Anvil Centre Theatre ($25/$15), visit ticketsnw.ca. For the Firehall Arts Centre performances ($23-$33), visit firehallartscentre.ca.