Street performer Isabella Hoops is a performance artist on the rise. After ten years of busking and hula hooping for cash on the streets of Edmonton, Calgary and Winnipeg she now has her own entertainment company in Toronto with five other artists under contract and regular gigs. This happened because of her natural skill, her charisma and determination and her natural passion for entertaining people.

Bella Hoops has a half dozen ready-made shows from cabarets, to festivals, and stunts, and spectacles that are perfect for work on the street. This girl won the CanSpin Awards Hooper of the Year trophy in 2015.

Isabella Hoops with Jack Frost at Markham Ontario Festival of Lights Friday 24 Nov 2017 , photo by Rob Campbell

The Origins of Isabella Hoops

Isabella Hoops has always been involved in the arts. She was born into a family of musicians and was performing on stage as a toddler. Twenty years later, she earned a Bachelor of Education and Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in performance acting at the University of Edmonton.

Isabella began her acting career at the Musical Theatre in Edmonton where she attended Grant MacEwan Theatre Arts. She spent five years there performing children’s musicals, and touring with the company doing shows across Alberta and British Columbia. During that time she made infrequent appearances at the Edmonton Street Performers Festival and became more and more attracted to busking and street performance. For the next ten years she spent her summers traveling across Canada touring with the Fringe Festival, both as an actor and a busker.

Isabella Hoops in a solo fire show in Toronto – July 2017 , photo courtesy of Isabella Hoops Entertainment Ltd.

Since moving to Toronto in 2008, Isabella has found a home amidst the growing circus community as she pursues her career as an actor and playwright. She wrote and produced the critically acclaimed show, The Cat of Kensington, for the 2010 Toronto Fringe Festival and Everlasting Slumber with Hercinia Arts for the 2012 London Fringe Festival and 2013 Hamilton Fringe Festival.

How does a good artist become legendary?

How do you kick it up a notch when you’re already putting everything you have out there on the street? There are many answers, depending on each performer’s discipline. Better costumes, more compelling crowd-calls, and more scenic locations especially when shooting videos are some of the obvious ideas. But going further, street performers need to brand themselves with simple but iconic street identities. Throw2Catch, Rubberband Boy and Silver Elvis were just some of the more memorable acts on the streets of Halifax last summer at the 2017 Buskerfest.

Street Performers in the Age of Instagram

A good busker already has no limits. He or she can ‘set up a pitch’ in a crowded place and make cash any day of the week. But today in the digital age there’s another audience platform and potential revenue stream found on everyone’s phones. Instagram can make buskers famous overnight, and has made such talent calling cards for outdoor festivals rather than after-thoughts. Once these digital artists exceed five thousand followers they will begin to get offers from agencies and brands to perform publicly with sponsored products and services. These plugs pay cash.

Snowflake Kids with Jack Frost – Isabella Hoops Entertainment at Niagara Falls Winter Festival 2017 , photo courtesy of Bruno Campagiorni via Niagara Falls Facebook Page

Instagram offers a whole new audience platform, and this innovation must be embraced as a fast-track to a global audience. The best publishers enter and dominate a community by prolifically posting incredible and of course original material.

Other technology has also impacted the industry; the last decade saw the introduction of LED glow-in-the-dark accessories that have made night juggling and hula-hooping more possible, and indeed these props look spectacular in near darkness.

What’s Next for Isabella Hoops?

What’s next? The next big gig. How does that happen? For buskers to become celebrities they must create a hot new attraction. The fastest way to the top is to have something special, a super-stunt or thrilling spectacle that can become your signature show. Bella doesn’t just hula-hoop; she brings her own style of dance and rhythm to the hoop to create an extraordinarily memorable visual experience. Her circular hula-hoop frames her natural antics and makes a platform for ‘rhythmic clowning’, and she’s got the material.

Song and dance routines can always be improved but if you really want to get people’s attention, you must use fire.

Isabella Hoops debuted NorthFIRE in 2017

NorthFIRE features a diverse set of highly skilled variety circus performers doing stunts set to music with fire hoops, poi, staff, acrobatics, fire breathing and some exceptional pyro techniques. This high energy show with choreographed fire acts astonish viewers who audibly gasp when fireballs rise ten or fifteen feet into the air.

NorthFIRE fire show in Toronto, Ontario, July 2017 – photo courtesy of Isabella Hoops Entertainment

Working with fire is challenging. There are only a few places in Toronto where the team can rehearse without the fire department showing up, and yes, she has been burned. “If you play with fire, you will get burned’ Bella laments, showing this author the scars on her arms and hands. “But I haven’t set my hair on fire yet, so I’m doing better than most who’ve learned everything the hard way.”

Readers can learn more of what’s its like behind-the-scenes at a small town winter festival from a street performer’s point of view on Isabella Hoops Entertainment’s website blog, ‘What happened at the 2017 Markham Festival of Lights’.

CHINEYMANA and BABA © Beth Lesser

Chineyman, brother of drummer Barnabas, was an aspiring record producer. He lived around the corner from Channel One, an infamously dangerous neighborhood during the troubled 1970s and hoped for a break. He eventually was able to leave Jamaica and make a new life in the US.

George Wright © Beth Lesse

As young hopeful from the ghetto, George began cutting his first records in the early 80s, but never really made a name for himself. Several years into his career, he felt he had been called by the Lord and he now performs and records gospel music as ‘Brotha George’.

Eek-a-mouse © Beth Lesser

Born in the ghetto of Trenchtown in Kingston, Jamaica, the tough and talented Eek-a-mouse was just at the height of his career as a recording artist and singer-rapper with the sound systems of Kingston. His unique “Egyptian” style imitated the singing of parts of the Arab world. Although past his peak, he continued to record and tour until 2010 when he was arrested on kidnapping and drug charges. Released on bail, he disappeared and was found in Paraguay and deported to the US. Since then, he has been released and has set off again on tour. A retrospective of his work was just released by V.P. records in New York.

Photo Credits

All Photographs Are © Ruth Lesser

Beth Lesser Photographer Bio

During the 1980s, Beth Lesser edited and published Reggae Quarterly, the first international reggae publication to focus on dancehall style music. Beth and her husband, David, spent the decade thoroughly immersed in Jamaican music, David hosting the top reggae radio show in Toronto and the couple traveling frequently to Kingston and New York to interview artists. Since that time Ms Lesser has written four books on the topic of dancehall reggae. In addition, Ms Lesser’s photographs of the Kingston music scene have appeared in books, magazines, newspapers and documentary films around the world as well as on over one hundred CD/ albums covers.

Blog / Website:  Beth Lesser – Reggae Photographer & Writer

Follow Beth Lesser on:  Facebook

High school: the thought of it made my stomach sick and my skin crawl. I could actually feel the anxiety down, down deep in my gut. I was too young for high school, and yet I was too old for high school. Either way, the whole thought of going on a bus to school at seven every morning consumed my summer.

There was also the battle with my parents about where I was going to go to school – public or private? At the time I had a very strong religious conviction. I prayed a lot; I asked God to intervene on a daily basis in my life. Imagine. How tough could my life have been at thirteen? But there you go: we often think children don’t deal with stress, but they do.

So do my parents send me to private or public? I really don’t think they had the money to send me to private school; I think they were waiting for me to put up a fight about private, and I was torn. I really wanted to be with my friends as they were what was important to me at the time. The bond I had with my friends in elementary school was so strong to me (whether they felt the same way, I don’t know). But for me my friends were what got me through my days. And so I decided I would go to public school just as all my friends were doing.

My mother and father both supported this decision and so my summer was spent worrying and contemplating what high school would be like.

At thirteen my life was pretty limited as to what I could do. I spent most nights that summer at home. My parents were often out at parties or events and I was designated babysitter for my elderly Aunt.

“Martha, we are leaving now,” my mother yelled from downstairs.

“Okay,” I replied. Then there would be a pause and my mother would continue on.

“Don’t forget to check on Gert, Martha. Make sure she hasn’t fallen or anything. Alright, your father and I are going now. Good night. Don’t wait up for us.”

“Okay, I will, bye mom.” I answered back to the voice. Engrossed in a book I didn’t want to put down, I continued reading. Most days and nights were spent doing things like that: reading or writing or watching television. That would pretty much sum up my summer.

So while I had those free moments at home I would do what most teenagers do; I would wallow in self pity and teenage angst. Fawn over boys who probably never even knew I existed, and listened to music. Music and dancing, neither of which I am good at but both of which I so immensely enjoy and rejoice in!

I would put on Frank Sinatra. Man, how I loved Frank and that big band sound! And I memorized every lyric to every song on his Greatest Hits album. I would belt out My Way and Summer Breeze and I would often become the conductor, orchestrating when and where each instrument would come in. It was a good thing my aunt was deaf.

I listened to other pieces of music as well, from classical to pop, but Ole Blue Eyes was one of my favorites. I would also invent dances and dance around our living room as though I were a fair maiden gypsy dancing for gold. I would dance till the sweat dripped down my forehead and I would wipe it off with my shirt sleeve, get a drink of water and start over again.

Dancing made me feel whole. In that living room there was just me, the dance and the music, loud music, and I would be lost in it. Lost in the movement of my body, and in how perfectly everything worked, how my hand softly creased upward or downward, how high I could kick my leg up in the air, how softly I could pivot down, down till I lay sprawled out on the carpet exhausted and filled with absolute joy.

At thirteen you don’t realize just how marvelous life is; it’s too hard to see it’s beauty. Writing this piece I feel the urge to weep for that young woman who so loved to dance, and who loved the sound of any type of music and how miraculously the music and the dance fit together. How awesome was that, that your body could move so passionately to music! At thirteen it moved without effort without fatigue.

Summer at thirteen was a time of gathering up the strength for what was to come. Long days of rest – of reading in the back yard, sitting under a tree in the quiet shade. Walks to girlfriends’ houses to hang out, and chat and experiment with cigarettes.

“Hey Marth, want to go down to the bowling alley and buys some cigarettes?” my friend Al asked me one day.

“Oh, okay. Do you have any money?” I asked her.

“Well, I stole a couple of dollars from my mom’s purse. Do you think you could get the rest?” she asked.

“I’ll try. Wait here,” I said to her at our front door.

“Martha, who’s that at the door?” my mom yelled from upstairs. We did a lot of yelling in our house.
“It’s Alison,”

“Oh, what are you two doing?”

“Nothing, mom. We’re just going to the park or something. I won’t be long,” I yelled up to her while I rummaged through her purse looking for loose change.

After discovering the bottom of my mother’s purse was like a gold mine I managed to scrounge enough nickels and dimes in order for Al and I to buy our first pack of smokes. Export “A .“ We told the man at the bowling alley that the cigarettes were for my mom. Thankfully both of us looked a lot more innocent than we actually were. We opened up that pack of smokes and sat by the train tracks and smoked the whole pack in about an hour.

“I don’t get what is so great about this do you, Marth?” Al said to me.

“No, I think your right; it kind of hurts the throat eh?” I responded, probably looking rather green as I did.

“Your parents smoke, so you must be used to this?” Al asked me

“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied, not really knowing what she meant. Most parents would have tortured their children by making them smoke a pack of cigarettes and here we were doing the torturing all by ourselves. We were, I suppose, a bit masochistic when it came to smoking. But it would be something to tell our other friends. Wouldn’t they be impressed that we smoked a pack of Export “A” in about a minute and half?

“Do you have any gum, Marth? “ Alison asked me

“No, but we better get some,” I said and went back into the bowling alley and bought some gum. We ate the whole pack of gum too on the way home.

Watching old black and white movies on our new color television, mostly musicals, like Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Carousel, and West Side Story. And I would write.
I would write long wordy poems about war, about love about the trees. I would write and imagine myself as a great poet one day, reading my poetry in front of large crowds who would weep and cheer and understand exactly how I felt at that moment of writing. I would spend many nights with my copy books, thinking of rhymes and hoping I could find a rhyme that fit. Cool, school, hope, dope. My poems were anything but fancy but they had a rhythm and to me they were masterpieces of extraordinary genius. When I finished my writing I would gather all my books and hide them under my bed so my brother or my parents wouldn’t find them. They were private and none needed to know what I was writing about, except the imaginary audiences that I would conjure up.

Those poems and stories are still with me. The books are hidden away still. To read them makes me feel sad – so many years ago, so many words ago. And the words have kept on coming, and the years have too. The years have come too quickly it seems. When did I become middle aged. How did that happen? Yet Frank is still around, those songs embedded in my brain. Those moments in the living room performing for nobody but myself, with absolute abandon, waving my arms around conducting the orchestra or holding something in my hand that resembled a microphone and belting out “ I did it my way. “  Content that Frank would have been proud of me.
And I must say there were times when I would get caught in the act. Times when my parents would show up early out of the blue and there I would be in prefect pose, my eyes closed, and my lips pursed singing something and I would hear, “Marthaaaaa, turn that down. How can you listen to music that loud?” It would take me a little while to even notice someone was there. And when I did, oh, the embarrassment, the feeling I had been caught at something horrible. It was as though all the joy and intensity of the moment had deflated in an instant.

“Why are you home?” I would ask, turning off the stereo.

“No reason.”

“Oh.”  Then I would go up to my room and quietly listen to the radio, praying that my parents would not go around telling everyone about how Martha pretends she’s a singer.

When the time finally came for me to get on that early morning bus I was crushed, my spirit broken by the confines of high school. No more, music, no more dancing, no more freedom. At least I still had cigarettes. Jr. high was nothing like I thought it would be; it was worse, and it got even more anti-climactic as I continued on. But I had the summer to look forward to again: the music, and the dance, and the words, which over time and years really did improve, unlike my dancing or singing. I always had words, those I read and those I wrote.

Image Credit

Photo by Martha Farley. All rights reserved.

A taxi ride downtown brought us to the Clarendon Aspen Towers Hotel. The hotel was surprisingly luxurious, given the ninety dollar (U.S.) room rate and I had a decadent soak in the Jacuzzi tub before venturing out on the street. I rounded a corner and decided a pub with the improbable name of The Ness looked like a good spot to try out a glass of the local brew and meet some Portenos (as the residents of Buenos Aires are known). Entering I solved the riddle of whether the Ness in question was Elliott or Loch when I spotted a stylized quasi-plesiosaurus silhouette on the glass of the door. Since Buenos Aires received a huge influx of Europeans of all nationalities in the last century, a Scottish themed pub was hardly unusual. Paging through the Buenos Aires phone book it is not uncommon to see names such as Fernando O’Toole or Juan McTavish. Even Butch Cassidy eventually emigrated to Argentina.

The affable bartender spoke no English, but my rudimentary Spanish allowed me to order one of the local Quilmes (pronounced “kill mees”) ales and a plate of tapas. He then dug out a dog-eared map from under the bar and helped me plot out a “plan of attack” for touring the city. A Chinese gent in a business suit proved to be an Argentinean economist and, bemoaning the local economy, wondered what Canada did right that Argentina was doing wrong. I suggested that placing ourselves in proximity to the U.S.A. was likely our smartest move.

Leaving the Ness I enjoyed the prolonged austral summer evening and ambled down to Plaza San Martin, enjoying the massive, gnarled rubber trees and the bright blossoms of the jacarandas. The park is dedicated to General San Martin, the “George Washington” of Argentina, who is credited with liberating the country from Spain in the early 1800’s. San Martin actually became so disillusioned with the constant political bickering after the revolution that he left for France and never returned (at least not while alive; his body was eventually returned and ensconced with an honor guard in the Metropolitan Cathedral on the Plaza de Mayo). Amorous couples, less inhibited than their Canadian counterparts, appear to make the Plaza the location of choice for their trysts. From the park I could see a tower which reminded me vaguely of Big Ben. In fact the English Tower was a gift to Argentina from England in 1910. After the Falklands War there were calls to tear the edifice down, but calmer heads prevailed and the tower was simply renamed. Locals, presently much more annoyed with their own government than with the English, have taken to calling it once again the Torre de los Ingleses.

The following morning I began a more thorough tour of the city. Beginning with the lovely Plaza de Mayo I wandered the square, taking in the 19th century architecture. The government building, known as the Casa Rosada, is painted a shocking pink. The color, I’m told, is the result of an old political compromise between two parties whose colors were respectively red and white, the combination being, of course . . . pink. Our guide pointed out the balcony from which Juan and Evita Peron used to speak to the crowds, and from which more recently Madonna had stood during the filming of the movie “Evita”. Further up the Avenida de Mayo, visitors can enjoy the Art Nouveau and Art Deco style architecture, and stop for a coffee at the 150 year old Cafe Tortoni.

Our next stop is the wealthy suburb of La Recoleta and the elite cemetery where Evita Peron is buried. The cemetery is a melange of many different architectural styles and is so exclusive that not even Juan Peron was allowed to be buried there. In fact Evita had to be smuggled into the family Duarte tomb years after her death. The city’s elite still seem a little embarrassed about Evita being in the cemetery and there are no signs to direct tourists to her grave.

On our way back, my traveling companion joked that with so many McDonald’s in downtown B.A. we should be able to find one in the cemetery. We then came to the tomb of Argentinean war hero, James Macdonald which I gleefully pointed out. It seems that during the revolution a lot of Irish and English seamen fought for Argentina, gaining the right to be buried in Recoleta.

Next stop was La Boca, settled mainly by Italian immigrants in the early twentieth century. Many built their homes of corrugated iron salvaged from the dockyard. These are painted in the bright colors of favorite soccer teams, usually blue and yellow, since these are the colors of the legendary soccer team, The Boca Juniors. I had coincidentally worn a blue and yellow striped shirt this day and had a constant stream of strange women speaking to me in Spanish (single men take note).

The Caminito area of Boca is the most Bohemian portion of the district, with beautiful art work for sale at reasonable prices and colorful street performers busking for a peso or two. This is a good spot to pick up gifts and souvenirs. Later we pass through San Telmo, the home of the tango. Originally the tango was a dance of the lower classes, confined to petty thugs called “compadritos” and their ladies (usually “of the night” variety). Often two men would dance together while waiting for their women to make an appearance. The step is said to mimic the movements of a knife fight and the upper body motion is said to mimic . . . well, you know.

The tango is not only a dance, but vocal and musical art form. It eventually became a craze for all classes and one of its most famous proponents was singer Carlos Gardel. That evening we decided to book a dinner tango show. The Carlos Gardel show is performed in a reconstructed Art Deco style theater where Gardel used to perform. The evening began with a dinner of, what else, melt-in-your-mouth Argentinean steak, accompanied by unlimited amounts of red or white Norton wine (one of Argentina’s noted vintners). The curtain rose and I noticed the orchestra played suspended over the stage. Prominent among their instruments was the bandoneon, the accordion-like instrument which gives tango music its distinctive sound.

The dancers were incredibly smooth and the tango, performed properly, as it was this evening, is an intensely erotic dance. Between sets, a man looking uncannily like Gardel (and with a voice to match), crooned tango ballads to the audience. This show is a definite must for visitors to Buenos Aires.

The final day in Buenos Aires was spent touring the city’s world class opera house. Completed almost a hundred years ago and Italianate in style, the theater has hosted many opera greats. Though we were unable to take in a performance, we did get a chance to sit in the presidential box watching dancers practice for an upcoming show. Alas, too soon it was time to go.

Despite recent difficulties, the city of Buenos Aires appears prosperous, and the city is very reminiscent in style and atmosphere to Montreal. Some say that Montreal is the “most European of American cities” while Buenos Aires is the “most American of European cities”. In any event Argentina’s capital is a beautiful and vital city well worth a visit.

(Note: while in the Buenos Aires area, side trips across the Rio de la Plata to Montevideo, Uruguay and north to the incredible Iguazzu Falls are highly recommended)

First Published In The Medical Post, November 5, 2002

Image credits:

Plaza St. Martin via Wikimedia Commons

Casa Rosada via Wikimedia Commons

Tango Show via Wikimedia Commons

Before Gangnam Style 

Born Park Jae-sang in South Korea on December 31, 1977, Psy spent his early life in the Gangnam District of Seoul, the area of the city parodied in the Gangnam Style video. He graduated from high school in his home country, but attended college in the U.S., studying at Boston University and Berklee College of Music. 

Despite his seemingly overnight success, Psy has been hard at work in Korea for more than a decade. His first album “PSY… From the Psycho World!” was released in 2001, and immediately earned Psy a reputation of going against the K-pop mold, a reputation that Psy embraces. 

His second album was banned for sale to consumers under the age of 19, after complaints that his lyrics and unusual behavior could have a negative influence on young people. This prompted Psy to take to the Internet with his third album, releasing his songs directly to consumers. 

Three subsequent album releases and songwriting provided Psy with enough success to stay in the business, but it wasn’t until his sixth album and the release of “Gangnam Style” in the summer of 2012 that Psy became a world-wide sensation. 

Gangnam Style 

Gangnam Style isn’t just any other viral video. Psy’s hit is an undisputed Internet smash. The popularity of the video has been largely credited to social networking sites, such as Twitter, where celebrities like Katy Perry and T-Pain, shared and praised Psy’s video to their followers. On September 20, 2012, Gangnam Style became a Guinness World Record holder as the most liked video in the history of YouTube. 

Anyone who has listened to Gangnam Style has likely become a victim of its catchy, stick-in-your-head melody. It’s the song’s video, though, that got people talking. Featuring Psy at a number of locations meant to represent the Gangnam District, including a hot tub and a merry-go-round, the video also has a number of Korean celebrity cameos. Celebrities who appear in the video include: 

• K-pop girl group 4Minute’s Hyuna as the video Psy’s love interest 
• 5-year-old Hwang Min-woo, a dance contestant on Korea’s Got Talent, as the kid with the wicked moves in the beginning sequence of the video 
• Comedian Yoo Jae-Suk as the yellow-suited other half of Psy’s parking garage dance-off. 

After Gangnam Style 

With such a global hit on his hands, it’s no surprise since the release of Gangnam Style, Psy has become recognizable everywhere in the world. On a whirlwind trip to the U.S., Psy expanded on his international success with a number of scheduled media appearances. Even his less-publicized public appearances ended up making headlines. 

When he was spotted taking in a Dodgers game in Los Angeles in August, Psy was shown on the stadium’s big screen and the announcers encouraged the crowd to dance the Gangnam Style horse dance. As the crowd joined in on the dancing, Psy performed his signature dance for the crowd on the big screen in return. 

Later, his trip through the States would take him onto the sets of The Today Show, Saturday Night Live, and The Ellen DeGeneres Show, on which he taught Ellen and guest Britney Spears the steps of the horse dance that made him famous. 

Now back in Korea, Psy has begun work on his seventh album, according to Bloomberg Businessweek. His return home has also reunited Psy with his family. He has been married to his wife, Yoo Hye-yeon since 2006, and is the father of twin girls. 

PSY – GANGNAM STYLE

Photo Credits

Psy – Screen Cap From Video

Gangnam Style Official Cover – Wikipedia – Fair Use

Feature Image – Screen Cap From Video

Guest Author Bio

Hannah N.
Hannah is a 22 year old Western Washington University graduate, specializing in technology, adventure, and all things marketing. She is a writer for FrontierBundles.com and loves exploring the newest social media sites to find the best possibilities for customer interaction. Follow her on twitter at @hongryhannah, and thanks for reading!

The first thing that strikes you is the happiness – the genuine “I’m so glad to be here doing this!” look on everyone’s faces. Are some people staring in disbelief? Absolutely. Are the people participating really caring about that? Absolutely not. How many times have we decided not to use a certain gym or partake in a certain activity because someone might watch and we think they’d be judging us for not being able to use the treadmill at more than 4km/hour, or mentally point and laugh at how we look in our swimsuit?

Now, thanks to that first, wonderful, happy man and the reporter who saw something worthy, an idea has been set on fire. It has been spreading around the world because not only is it not “exercise,” it is an embrace to all that is fun, silly and social. You are supposed to laugh, you are supposed to make other people laugh… *with* you.

Dance Walk like everybody’s watching. And love it.

Photo Credit

Feature And Thumbnail  Images – Screen Cap From Video

Guest Author Bio

Jodie Gastel
Jodie Gastel lives and plays in Victoria, BC and is frequently followed around by noises that usually sound like “What is she up to now?” Not content with sitting still, Jodie has taken part of life’s smorgasbord and has experienced as much as possible including traveling around France, running business libraries, getting a mohawk, owning businesses, writing books, doing things interesting enough to be written about in magazines, becoming a mother and donning steel-toed boots while learning to drive a Bobcat.

Currently she is planning the next adventure. Preferably one that involves Yurt building.

Blog / Website: Dance Walking Victoria BC 

Follow Jodie On Facebook

Although I’m not a professional art critic and my dance training is so far behind me that I couldn’t recall the names of certain moves even under duress, I thought an “amateur’s” review might be helpful. Because, really, most audience members are just like me, aren’t they? I won’t go into the plot of the performance since other reviews (links included throughout this post) already do that, and will instead simply focus on our experience.

To borrow the perfectly apt words of CBC art critic Robert Enright, this performance was a “visual turn-on.”

The choreography struck me as very unique, and in many instances, so emotionally moving. I lack the words to adequately describe this, without just sounding silly. But as example, in the car on the way home, my husband recalled a movement in particular where the dancers were fluttering their hands behind their backs. It sounds simple, right? But the way it was pulled off, combined with the music, was so effective. In an art critic with the Winnipeg Free Press, Alison Mayes describes another series of powerful movements:

“In one poignant moment, Trilby (Amanda Green), the female star, has just become the toast of the town, showered with glitter and flowers. As soon as she’s out of the spotlight, she slumps and the bouquet slips to the floor — a snapshot of emptiness that speaks of manipulated stars like Michael Jackson.“

These kinds of poignant moments were brought to life through clever choreography throughout the night. I was particularly touched by one scene where men are coming up to Trilby, the central female character, and embracing her while a split second later, pushing her away to the floor like garbage.

As much we were both mesmerized by the choreography, Paula Citron, an art critic with the Globe and Mail, panned it harshly. Her chief complaint seems to be how unrecognizable this rendition of Svengali is to its original tale, published in 1894. Since neither of us had ever read that book, this did not affect us in the least. However, she also notes:

“A major weakness in Godden’s production lies in the fact that Svengali’s hypnotic powers and charisma are practically invisible, rendering James about as threatening as a Boy Scout.”

She’s got a point here. I’m not sure if this is the fault of the choreography or the choice of James to play Svengali — who is a talented dancer but does not bring an intimating physicality to the role — or both. Citron also feels that the archetypes and symbolism fall “flatter than a pancake.” And she may even have a point here as well.

But, again, this did not interfere with our enjoyment. It was a visual delight, from start to finish, and the plot was more of secondary consideration to us when all was said and done.

Even the costumes were captivating. Act III was an absolute highlight, with its glamorous and sexually alluring skin-coloured costumes. (I tried to find a photograph for you, but I couldn’t.)

There were a minor few elements that I thought distracting, even bizarre. The opening music was from the birth scene in in the cult film 2001: A Space Odyssey. I actually thought it was the Star Wars music at first. All in all, it seemed like a bizarre choice. Either too obvious or not obvious enough to be a tongue-in-cheek reference. Especially since no other pop culture music references were made in the rest of the performance.

In another example, during a powerful scene where Svengali is destroying Trilby’s metaphorical “hearts,” a large garbage can is pulled onto the stage. On it were bright white letters reading “GLASS.” Everything else was a metaphor … the paper hearts, etc, and here they write GLASS? Unnecessary and distracting.

Should you rush out and get tickets?

If you have any interest in dance, I would highly recommend it. The company is touring in British Columbia this spring and you can find the details on the Royal Winnipeg website.

Photo Credits

All photos by Bruce Monk.

 A contemporary feeling ballet – Svengali, The Royal Winnipeg Ballet

Svengali (Harrison James) and Trilby (Amanda Green) – Royal Winnipeg Ballet

Royal Winnipeg Ballet – Svengali

Note: This review was originally published at Coffee with Julie.

Leading up to the tango you feel the sting like that of the fruit of passion. It’s bitter sweet in your mouth, like a tangelo. Then you’re off on a tangent, touching, yet not intersecting. You’re wearing reddish yellow, looking rather like a tangerine. You’re tangible in that you can be touched. Then, before you know it, you’re in a tangle, a trap. You’re dancing the tango! Moving across the floor in 2/4 time, gliding. Cheek to cheek, you can’t believe it because you’re here with the “one that got away”!

Photo Credits

Microsoft Office Clip Art Collection

Watch Rosie’s video diary…

Watch Rosie Bitts’ Video Diary [Editor’s warning: this vlog features a bit of semi-nudity so if you are under age or easily offended, please don’t peek :)]

Links You’ll Love

Dani Boynton – www.daniboyntonphotography.com
Keith Sonic- sonicshoots.com
Rad Juli – www.radjuli.com
Ginger Kittens – missgingerkittens.com
Wes Borg- www.deadtroll.com