The Dressing Room: Suiting up for the ballet

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3:37 pm

When it comes to my choice in television and films, there is nothing I enjoy more than period dramas. This has been true ever since PBS’s Masterpiece Theatre and ABC Family movies (think a cast of 22-year-old CW stars playing 16-year-olds in a two-hour long dramedy, usually in a vacation/camp scenario) were neck in neck for my undivided attention.

Most recently, I’ve been getting my fix from a British series called Downtown Abbey, a romantic romp through the end of Edwardian England led by the noble Crawley family. Aside from inspiring a yearning for a romance with an ideological Irish chauffeur named Branson, the show also has me pining for a time when gloves were as a much a beautiful extravagance as they now are practical.

Today, that formality of dress has been removed from society, and while thankful for the abolishment of the corset, I do still long for an occasion that would warrant an outfit change comparable to that of Lady Mary Crawley’s before dinner. An evening at the ballet seemed the perfect opportunity for just such dress, or so I first thought.

While once you were as likely to spot a Poiret design on one of the dancers pirouetting upon the stage as a theatergoer, today the ballet, much like the opera, has retired from the league of black tie affairs. But it is a muddled retirement, and one that has made for something of a confused intermingling of smart casual and formal dress. By confused, I don’t mean to say that decorum in regards to attire is at a low ebb; this isn’t the case at all, in fact, it’s nice to have an element of classism nipped out of the ballet experience. It’s more that now the ballet exists as an undefined event where dress code is malleable according to one’s own fancy.

“Now the ballet exists as an undefined event where dress code is malleable according to one’s own fancy.”

Hanging in limbo, the wardrobe dilemma then becomes choosing between feeling uncomfortable for being over-dressed or for being under-dressed. For men, this is a non-issue: a man in a suit can be assumed to have just come from work, or he need only remove his tie and undo a button or two to eliminate a level of formality to his dress. But a woman in a floor length gown, well, there’s not much else to conclude but that she has gotten “dressed” for the ballet. With a ticket to the Ninth International Competition for the Erik Bruhn Prize hosted by the National Ballet of Canada in hand, I was faced with the question of whether I wanted to be “that” girl.

There’s nothing that is more likely to cause me to break out into a swatch of hives than people looking at me. And so, when it came to deciding whether Saturday night’s evening at the ballet — one that is ranked amongst the most important in the ballet world, especially for the young dancers it awards — was to be a neat and pretty scenario or an excuse for a helping of glam-o-rama, I laid out my picnic blanket in the middle and snacked on what I like to call the “Sybil principal,” and hoped that nothing about my appearance would attract glances.

The youngest of the three Crawley sisters, Sybil, nods her head at societal expectations whilst keeping her eyes on goals outside of what her family and ladies who lunch consider proper fields of interests, specifically politics. The family rebel also has a penchant for the controversial harem pant. In essence, the Sybil principal pays respect to tradition while embracing modern modes. And so, in this particular scenario, a successful adaptation of the Sybil principal would be to find a compromise between the red floor length number Julia Roberts wears to the opera in Pretty Woman and a country club sweater set.

I live in the Queen West neighbourhood, and the shops here are my go-to for just about everything – even something like the ballet – which some might think you have to go Eastward to shop for. Queen West is not just about DIY and Japanese denim: boutiques here offer some of the best picks when looking for an outfit that is fit for an event categorized as “formal” without looking business smart or bedazzled.

One of my favourite spots is Charlie. Boutique owner Erin Swan has curated a thoughtful blend of Canadian and international labels ranging from Paris-based label Sessun to Montreal designer Eve Gravel. The latter’s entire spring 2011 collection would have satisfied the Sybil principal on this occasion. Separates with an air of 1920s flair, composed of blouses detailed with feminine cutouts matched with high-waist shorts (that demand a return of lace gloves) and dresses that flirt with a simple highlight of the décolleté; see the collared navy knee-length number with cap sleeves — Lady Sybil herself would covet this one.

The Sybil principal did not falter, I arrived — late to be sure — but outfitted with an inconspicuous hint of ceremony that afforded me a cozy position between the little girls dressed in frilly frocks with ribbons steaming from their curly ponytails and the groups of ladies in sweater dresses and pant suits.

I did miss the gloves though — I would very much like an excuse to wear lace gloves. And perhaps, I might want to spend some time on something called the “Branson principal.”

Toronto-based writer Jennifer Lee is the Editorial Director of FILLER magazine, an online fashion & culture journal. She is also the Co-Editor of Hardly magazine, an arts-centric online teen publication for Canadian girls. Her column, The Dressing Room, appears weekly.

Sprinkles Cupcakes probably coming to T.O. at some point

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2:28 pm

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The L.A. Times once dubbed it “the progenitor of the haute cupcake craze,” and now Sprinkles Cupcakes, a bakery chain from Beverly Hills, is set to make its way to Toronto. But The Cupcake Shoppe doesn’t have to hold on to its hat just yet: details of the upcoming location are sketchy at best.

We got in touch with PR at Sprinkles and were only able to elicit the following information from them: “Sprinkles is very excited at the possibility of opening in Toronto and they are working hard to find the perfect location.”

Apparently, Toronto is just one stop on a Sprinkles world domination tour. According to its website, other locations are in the works for Vancouver, London and Tokyo, to name a few.

And if you’re wondering why anyone should care about cupcakes from Sprinkles, the answer is simple: Oprah digs them.

Thomas Sabo to charm Yorkdale this spring

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1:32 pm

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Thomas Sabo is bringing his sterling silver designs to Toronto with a flagship store at Yorkdale Shopping Centre opening this April.

Sabo’s collections include jewellery, watches and more recently, his own perfume. But he is probably best known for his charm bracelets.

Whether you describe your personal style as classic (think pearls) or rebellious (think skulls), this jewellery designer has got you covered.

He also plays with colour, offering everything from simple silvers and whites to bright red lips and bejewelled green frogs.

Pop princess Katy Perry is a natural fit as the brand’s new ambassador. Sabo also has a celebrity following that includes Nicky Hilton, Robin Williams and Toronto’s own Malin Akerman.

His latest designs are debuted twice a year in Paris, Milan and New York at the ready-to-wear fashion shows.

Sabo’s spring 2011 lookbook is available here.

Vikram Vij hits up T.O., gives props to Kennedy, Dooher

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10:52 am

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Renowned Vancouver chef Vikram Vij made his way to Toronto yesterday to celebrate the recent rebirth of All the Best Fine Foods and to promote his line of cook-at-home vegetarian meals available there. We took the chance to chat with him about dining in Toronto, the joys of snacking and his award-winning cookbooks, co-written with his wife.

Where do you like to dine in Toronto?
Jamie Kennedy’s restaurant last night. Had some fabulous food there. Really simple, well done, good food. I don’t eat out much when I’m here because I’m usually working, and when I stop working I go to sleep, that kind of thing. But Mark McEwan’s place, I’ve heard really good things about that place. I’ll probably go for a glass of wine tonight there. Or Donna Dooher’s place, [Mildred’s Temple Kitchen], I just went by there to see the space. It’s a beautiful space she has there.

Other than calories and nutrients, what should people get from eating?
A pure pleasure. An orgasm of the mouth. Food is not just about filling yourself up. Food should be a total pleasure. I mean, if you’re eating a beet, taste the beet and taste the flavour of it, and you can tell the farmer worked really hard for it and sense the chef’s passion behind it.

What do you snack on?
What do I snack on? I would have a nice little prosciutto or something like that. I love my cold cuts! I’ll have chips sometimes, but good quality homemade style chips. I do love Indian snacks. It’s my only guilty pleasure. I love those Surati from Bombay, and Haldiram from Delhi. I know it’s junk but I love the flavour of them.

What is it like running a restaurant — two restaurants — with your wife?
Tough. Really tough. I would not advise it to anybody else. It’s a lot of work. You know, when you’re too passionate about it. If one of you could be relaxed and just let it go, that would be different. But when you’re both this passionate about it…that’s when the tough stuff happens.

“Indian food” is a broad category. What do North Americans expect at an Indian restaurant, and what might surprise them at Vij’s?
People expect a lot of butter chicken, chicken tikka masala and so on, and there’s nothing wrong with those classic Indian dishes, but there is more to Indian food than that. [At Vij’s], we blend things from where we live — including local produce and local vegetables as much as possible — with our Indian heritage and Indian culture, using those spices and combining those flavours. So I won’t say it’s a fusion; it’s what the world is today. It’s what today’s food is. It’s not about Old World; it’s not about New World. Even in India, it’s not the same way it was. I think it should be as the chef prepares the dish, with ultimate love and passion. I wouldn’t go by saying “it has to be done that way."

There is no vindaloo in your first book. Did you just run out of room?
[Laughs] You’ll never find that. You’ll never find butter chicken either…Why would I do vindaloo or chicken tikka masala or chicken korma? That’s like if someone opens a North American restaurant in India, a pancake restaurant, and then everyone thinks all that North Americans eat is pancakes. Unfortunately, many Indian restaurants have almost the same menu. But if you go into Indian homes, people always use different flavours and make different dishes. And that’s the beautiful thing about our cooking. We have the largest “democracy of food.” You can do whatever the hell you want and get away with it!

Sandra Shamas’ one-woman show is wondrously funny

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9:16 am

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Titles are important, and in great theatre they can be highly symbolic. This came to me as I watched, and thoroughly enjoyed, the superior comedian/writer/producer Sandra Shamas – surely one of the great talents of Canada – in her last of a fine trilogy of shows, Wit’s End III: Love Life.

The first two words of the title form the name of a farm north of Toronto which she loves passionately and which gives her life meaning; the latter is an urging to all of us to truly “love life,” which she has slowly learned to do, with profound wit, thought, pleasure, pain and struggle over her half-century-plus of life on earth.

Shamas is a genius in many ways; simply observe her determination to create nearly two-hour “shows” in quality theatres like the Winter Garden, and to produce them herself rather than live the life of most freelance comics, appearing in comedy clubs for a few hundred bucks a night, where hecklers abound. She knows, too, how to capture an audience’s focus and admiration by speaking to them directly and intimately, with truth, depth and exquisite timing, leaving them with deep thoughts and a better understanding of how to be human in an often inhumane world.

She walks out onto the nearly bare stage, her face radiant, her thick, curly hair hanging down past her shoulders (going grey gracefully and determinedly), wearing an all-black outfit, smiling, with her fabulous face, prominent nose and endless physical gestures.

She pauses, then turns to the audience and says, “It’s a very expensive set.” Within seconds, she launches into the horrors of being one of the many 11-year-old grade six girls dragged into a special room to watch a film entitled “You’re Becoming a Woman.” The audience of nearly a thousand (over a third of them smiling men) howls with non-stop, healing laughter as she moans about menstruation: “Once a month for 39 years!” and then murmurs, “There’s no menopause movie called ‘You’re Becoming a Hag Now.’” She does uproarious visual “takes” as she acts out the agonies of hot flashes and other joys of aging womanhood, including new longings to eat garbage: “I’m having a Kit Kat and a Junior Mint for dinner!”

The first “act” is perfection; the second is uneven but more challenging, and often even more personal. “Welcome back!” she waves, as she returns to her empty, “expensive set,” and blurts out, “I live on a farm that I love.” We hear how she tracks down a tractor “two and a half storeys tall.” She talks of meeting a new potential lover at a party, noting that “The guy was chewing with his mouth closed! I am setting the bar high.” Pause. “I don’t want a normal relationship; I want a GOOD one.”

As the hundreds of people filed out of the Winter Garden, most of them had bodies aching from laughter, their minds whirling with insight and thoughts to share with their partners on their way home. It’s not what we usually think of as traditional theatre, but what more can we ask from any evening?

By popular demand, Ms. Shamas has held the show over to April 3, after having to skip the week of March 14, due to the theatre not being available. Shamas is a treasure, and this is one of her best presentations.

Allan Gould is Post City’s theatre critic

American Idiot coming to T.O.; true punk rockers shudder

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3:09 pm

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Dancap Productions is recruiting the best of Toronto’s wayward, suburban punks for one of its next musicals. Think you fit the bill?

The company held a press conference yesterday announcing an open casting call for Green Day‘s American Idiot, which Dancap is bringing to the Toronto Centre for the Arts in Dec. 2011. The casting call is scheduled for March 26.

American Idiot, based on Green Day’s classic 2004 album, has been playing on Broadway since last spring, pulling in some pretty ecstatic reviews. Charles Isherwood of the New York Times called it "thrillingly raucous and gorgeously wrought."

It’s pretty standard Green Day, according to Isherwood’s review, involving a precocious group of disenchanted youth who battle love, rage, teen angst and life in the dreaded suburbs the only way they know how: sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll.

[Toronto Star]

Top this: Topshop and Topman coming to T.O.

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2:36 pm

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Hear that sound? It’s the collective squeal of anticipation (coupled with sighs of relief) now that Topshop and Topman are coming to Canada, courtesy of The Bay. The Canadian conglomerate has secured the franchise rights of the U.K. fashion house, which means it can open both shops within its stores as well as stand-alone stores.

The first Bay Topshop will open in Toronto this fall. Of course, most fashion-forward Torontonians are well-aware that Jonathan and Olivia have been carrying Topshop clothing since last summer, but by bringing the fashion line to The Bay, it gives the masses a chance to update—and upgrade—their wardrobe.

Not just for tripping: miracle fruit could battle world hunger

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12:05 pm

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If recent predictions are right, the future of food on Earth is looking rather dismal: predatory fish are on the verge of extinction, as are wild oysters – in fact, the planet could be on the verge of running out of food by 2050. One potential ally, reports Wired Magazine, could lie in a small, red berry that was responsible for "flavour-tripping" parties that were quasi-en vogue in Toronto a couple of years ago: miracle fruit.

For the uninitiated, miracle fruit (known to pompous-types as synsepalum dulcificum, and completely unrelated to “magical” fruit) alters one’s sense of taste upon consumption. More specifically, the fruit “binds with the taste buds and acts as a sweetness inducer,” according to the New York Times. Taste is affected for around an hour, making lemons taste like lemonade, or vinegar taste like apple juice.

Apparently, the fruit’s benefits go beyond the nifty. According to Chicago chef Homaro Cantu, the berry’s taste-altering power could be harnessed to make items we wouldn’t normally think of as food – like bitter grasses, cacti or even straw – enjoyable to eat, increasing the food supply of famine-stricken regions.

“It works 100 percent of the time,” Cantu told Wired.com. “We haven’t seen any side effects. That’s just huge.”

Critics have pointed out that using the berry could be inordinately expensive, and that raw grass – even if it tastes good – is still just raw grass. Still, it’s an interesting notion, and it could also work on a less planet-saving scale. Chemotherapy patients, apparently, regain a normal palate spectrum after eating a berry, allowing them to more easily gain weight.

And here’s a thought we haven’t had since high school: maybe tripping really can save the world.

[Wired]

The National Ballet of Canada takes on Don Quixote

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10:00 am

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The National Ballet of Canada begins its run of Don Quixote tomorrow night. This production is known for its dazzling choreography (with some pseudo knight-errant antics thrown in for good measure). Principal dancer Piotr Stanczyk plays the role of Basilio, a poor barber in love with Kitri, an innkeeper’s daughter. We got in touch with Stanczyk for a quick primer of the show.

Can you tell us a little bit about this show?
The ballet Don Quixote is based on the novel by Miguel de Cervantes and follows the chivalrous adventures of Don Quixote and his servant, Sancho Panza, and the romance between the young lovers Kitri and Basilio.

How are you preparing for the show?
Don Quixote is a lively and funny ballet with challenging choreography. The bravura style of Marius Petipa requires a lot of practice, skill and technique so I have been in the studio rehearsing, perfecting Basilio’s choreography.

Do you feel like you relate to the main character?
Of course – who hasn’t been in love and had to overcome obstacles? Although it doesn’t always happen in the sunny Spain.

How do you like the music of this show compared to others?
The music is very boisterous and helps me to get through the famous grand pas de deux and all the big jumps, turns and exciting choreography.

In the two decades that Don Quixote has been in production, how do you think it has changed?
Don Quixote was first used ballet in the 1750s and our version is a direct descendant of Marius Petipa’s production from 1869. His original choreography is now virtually lost, but he supervised a production choreographed by Alexander Gorsky in 1900. Our production was staged by Nicolas Beriozoff and premiered on November 12, 1982. Every re-staging takes advantage of the technology and technique of the present day, updating it for the dancers.

Don Quixote, Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, March 9-13

Cracking into your partner’s phone

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3:59 pm

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A crime took place at a friend’s house recently. I had been out with her that morning and as we were driving back to her home armed with our morning coffees she asked, “What are the chances that he’s looking through my stuff right now?”

The “he” she was speaking of was her boyfriend. For the first time, she had left the guy alone in her house to go for breakfast with me. “Not a chance,” I told her. She didn’t look entirely convinced. That’s because my girlfriend has looked through past boyfriends’ drawers when they left her alone at their places.

“He seems really nice and a stand-up guy. He would never do anything like that. I don’t think the thought would even occur to him to do something like that. Plus, it’s only women who think about doing stuff like that,” I told her.

Wrong. W-r-o-n-g. WRONG. Her boyfriend had gone off to work by the time we arrived back at her place. But there was a note on her kitchen counter that read, “I love you, but there’s something that’s been bothering me for a while, so let’s talk about it on Saturday. I love you.”

Well, of course my girlfriend (and me for that matter) couldn’t wait two days to find out what was “bothering” him. I watched as she dialed his number and spoke with him. Next thing I knew, she was hollering, “You’re disgusting! Who does that? And I know you didn’t just look at my e-mails two weeks ago. You looked at them this morning while I was out. I know it.” She hung up the phone. Before I could find out what had happened, her phone rang. It was her boyfriend again. More screaming ensued. “Admit that you looked at my e-mails today!” she yelled. I watched her face growing furious. “So now you’re a liar, and I can’t trust you,” she yelled before hanging up on him again.

It turns out that her boyfriend had indeed looked through her BlackBerry. She had recently bought a new phone and had left her old one on her kitchen counter. And her boyfriend of three months had looked through it. “Not only that,” my friend moaned, “he had to plug it in and charge it because I know the batteries were dead and he also typed in my password.” (Granted her password was “password.”)

My friend, in her words, felt “violated.”

She asked me if she should dump him. Now, most of us would immediately jump to saying, “Yes! What he did was psychotic.”

If this had happened in their first week of dating, I’d definitely tell her to dump him. But since they had been dating for a couple months, and he had never done anything wrong, I piped up that of course what he had done was wrong, but he needed to be punished, not dumped. This is mostly because both my girlfriend and I have cracked into guys phones before. It’s very easy to do.

I told my friend that this was a crime of passion.

“You know, he’s really falling for you, and now’s the time for him to panic about it,” I explained.

I have other friends who have cracked into boyfriend’s e-mails. One desperately tried it while her guy was in the shower. “I knew I only had a few minutes. And I only had 10 tries.” She couldn’t crack in. “It’s like you’re on some sort of high when you’re doing it. You know it’s wrong, but you can’t stop yourself,” she explains.

I’m guilty of these crimes of passion, which sounds better than saying, “I’m guilty of invasion of privacy.”

Guys, we gals have very good peripheral vision, too. One friend used her peripheral vision while her husband was typing in his pass code as they lay in bed. She had waited for months for this opportunity, and for months she had checked his BlackBerry after seeing him type in his password.

But, to make a sweeping generalization, when I’ve cracked into boyfriends’ BlackBerrys, and they’ve found out (because I can’t keep a secret) they may have been slightly off-putting, but overall, they thought it was kind of cute, and they seemed PROUD that I would go as far as I did.

But when a guy cracks into a girl’s phone, it comes across as creepy and obsessive.

My friend punished her boyfriend accordingly. She rarely took his calls or responded to any of his (numerous) apologetic e-mails that followed for the next few days. Then they talked it out. Was it a crime of passion or a massive invasion of personal privacy? Likely a bit of both.

It’s easy to blame this on new technology, but the truth is this behaviour is no different than having someone root through your pockets or purse or even paying a private detective to have your signifigant other followed.

All relationships are based on trust and at the end of the day we are either true to each other or we aren’t. No amount of snooping will ever change that.

T.O.’s new tennis star takes his first title

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3:48 pm

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It started with his match against the world’s top tennis player. Miloš Raonić may have lost in two sets, but he impressed his opponent. And when Rafael Nadal calls you a player to watch, it’s guaranteed to turn heads in the tennis world.

Raonić followed up his performance against Nadal with a surprise run at the Australian Open. As a qualifier, he captured headlines when he upset the 22nd and 10th seeds. He went on to be defeated by David Ferrer, but to go asfarashedidwasabigcoupfor his career. Raonić is the first Canadian to make it to the fourth round of a Grand Slam event in more than a decade, and his streak there secured him a spot in the world’s top 100.

Continuing this momentum, he won his first Association of Tennis Professionals (ATP) title at the SAP Open in San Jose last month, which earned him $92,000. In the span of a year, he has gone from relative unknown to best male singles player in Canada and 59th in the world.

Raonić’s meteoric rise to tennis stardom may appear to have happened almost overnight. But anyone who knows him well will tell you that this is hardly the case. The hard work began soon after he picked up his first racquet.

His first coach, Casey Curtis of Blackmore Tennis Club, met him when he was only eight years old. The youngster was hoping to play in Curtis’s group clinics, but he didn’t think Raonić was ready yet.

Raonić was determined, though, even as a boy. He started hitting the courts with his dad early in the morning and late in the evening (to get cheaper rates) to practise with the ball machine. Within a couple of months, his playing level was strong enough for him to join the clinics. By the time Raonić was about 12, the potential for him to play professionally was evident to Curtis. They spent a lot of time working on his serve, and it was already near perfect at this point.

Curtis liked to ask Raonić what Pete Sampras — his idol — would do with his shots, pushing him to be better than not only his current opponents, but his future ones, too. He says that at first Raonić would smile when he posed the question. After a while, as he began to believe, he took it more seriously. Curtis coached Raonić up until he was 17 years old. He was impressed as he watched Raonić take his first ATP tournament victory.

“To be able to be that calm in that kind of pressure shows a real champion quality,” he says. “There’s no reason this guy can’t get to number one in the world.”

Now towering at six-foot-five, the 20-year-old GTA native is known on the international tennis circuit for his powerful serve. In his title-winning match at the SAP Open, his fastest serve clocked in at 149 kilometres an hour. Eleven matches into the year, Raonić has already notched 174 aces, making him number two overall for most aces on the ATP tour.

Raonić is working well with his new coach, Spaniard Galo Blanco, and he attributes his recent success to his composure and fitness level.

“My game is coming together, andIfeellikeI’monmywayto reaching my goals and playing the level I want to play,” he says.

He says the next steps are to maintain the level of play he’s at right now and to do well on clay courts.

“I think it’s necessary to be one of the top players nowadays to be able to play on all the surfaces,” Raonić says.

This is one element of the game he thinks he needs to work on.

Fernando Verdasco, who lost to Raonić in San Jose and then again in Memphis, was reported as saying he hoped to face the young tennis player on clay courts soon, so he could demonstrate to him what it is to play a “real match,” to not only serve, but to have to rally and run.

Raonić sees a lot of areas for improvement in his game, which is a positive for him. He says he doesn’t mind putting in the hard work. But rest is also important for any athlete, and after the ATP event in Memphis last month, Raonić planned to take some time off before the Davis Cup.

“I do take that time to recover, not just physically, mentally also, so when I do get back to courts, I’m there 100 per cent and fighting 100 per cent,” he says.

With his recent successes, Raonić was asked whether he would continue to play for Canada or leave and play for his other nationality, as Greg Rusedski (a Canadian-born tennis player who went back to Britain) did. But he has dismissed the notion.

“If you love it, you do it 100 per cent and that’s what I always did.”

“It’s clear what my decision is, what nationality stays beside my name when I play my tournaments and who I play Davis Cup for,” he says.

Raonić can’t think of any one moment when he realized tennis was it for him. He simply gave the sport his all from day one.

“If you really love it, you do it 100 per cent and that’s what I always did,” he says. “There was never a doubt if this was the right decision.”

Born in Montenegro, Raonić moved to Canada with his family at the age of three. Vesna Raonić says her son always excelled in sports, but she could tell tennis was different from the rest for him. Raonić was always pushing her and her husband, Dusan, to take him to the tennis courts. Raonić also did well academically, graduating from Thornhill Secondary School early at the age of 16.He would get up at 5:30 a.m. to go play tennis, go to school, leave early to go back to the courts, do his homework afterwards, and he would play tournaments on weekends. He was three weeks away from leaving for university when he decided to go pro.

As the youngest of three children, Raonić is extremely close to his family. Even as his career takes him around the globe, he’s always got family with him and he’s on Skype every day. For Vesna, to see her son start to get results after working so hard is amazing.

“Seeing him so happy makes all of us so happy and excited,” she says.

This month, Raonić is slated to play the Davis Cup in Mexico, followed by tournaments in Indian Wells, California and Miami.

Gervais’ provocative gem rankles some American feathers

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3:24 pm

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Finally, another scandal in the comedy world! Insults hurled, feelings hurt, friendships betrayed, careers at stake.

It was the second time British comedian Ricky Gervais was tapped for the Golden Globe hosting honours, and he did not disappoint. He had, as the job requires, zingers at the ready for the celebrities in the crowd. But the severe reaction was unanticipated.

Mogul Harvey Weinstein growled that Gervais would never work in Hollywood again. Executives from the Hollywood Foreign Press apologized and suggested Gervais would not be asked back. A lot of huffing and puffing from the only awards show with the nerve to nominate the atrocious movie Burlesque for a serious award.

I didn’t see anything worth getting worked up about. A Charlie Sheen joke? Really? Since when is Robert Downey an off-limits target? Or Sylvester Stallone, who should be thrilled to be mentioned, let alone made fun of, at this point.

Gervais turned the evening into a bit of a roast, which awards shows have always flirted with, anyway. Wasn’t part of the fun of watching Johnny Carson or Billy Crystal on the Oscars poking fun at the stars, seeing how close to the edge they could get?

I’m not one to think Gervais can do no wrong. I’m a huge fan of The Office, but I found his next series, Extras, to be tedious and self-indulgent. And both his movies, Ghost Town and The Invention of Lying, have brilliant premises, but run out of steam halfway through. But I think he did a great job hosting the Globes.

Perhaps the Globes, always the poor cousin to more serious awards shows, may be a little touchy. If your awards show isn’t taken too seriously to begin with, fighting for credibility might not be unexpected.

But maybe it’s a deeper issue. Gervais, for all his achievements, is still an outsider in Hollywood. He’s a Brit, after all, and not seen as one who’s earned the right to poke fun at L.A. royalty. Gervais was threatened with excommunication, ironic since you can’t exclude someone who really isn’t included to start with.

Many years ago, I experienced a similar U.S. xenophobia. It was 1981 and I was hired to write on the first season of Evening at the Improv in L.A. My agent had also negotiated an appearance on the show as part of the contract. It was all going well until the evening of my taping. John Belushi had just died a few months before, having had a mixture of cocaine and heroin injected into him by a fan, Cathy Evelyn Smith. Of course, the comic in me needed to make a dark joke about it. So my opening line to the cameras was a twist on the old chestnut: “Hi, I just got back from a date with Cathy Evelyn Smith, and boy, are my arms tired!”

The crowd stared in silence and then slowly, collectively, began to boo and hiss. After the show I went into the bar at the Improv where I dealt with a torrent of abuse from audience members and producers. “How could you?” they kept asking. I thought it was my job, and I told them so. The next day I was fired.

The irony is that Belushi would have loved the joke. If an American comic had done the joke, he would have been thought of as cheeky, even tasteless, but as an outsider, I had broken the code. So a word of warning when doing comedy, then: it isn’t just about who is made fun of, but also who’s doing the funny.