A man that’s in it for the money is a bad, bad man – right? The value we attach to capital, and the beliefs of those who seek to do nothing other than accumulate it are issues that have always been hotly debated, perhaps now more than ever.

It would seem, then, an appropriate moment to bring back to the stage David Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross, a scorching play about the clawing desperation of a group of 1980s real estate salesmen walking the thin line between modest wealth and unemployment. It’s a mile-a-minute cacophony of swearing and lies, at once funny and despicable in its illumination of the turncoat tactics these examples of hyper-masculinity will adopt to save their jobs and turn a profit. (more…)

It’s the mid-eighties in a classroom somewhere in Nova Scotia, and a prepubescent Jacob Zimmer is puzzling over the list his teacher has just handed him. “The Seven Scientific Revolutions,” reads the title, followed by this:

1. The Gutenberg Revolution
2. The Copernican Revolution
3. The Newtonian Revolution
4. The Industrial Revolution
5. The Darwinian Revolution
6. The Nuclear Revolution
7. The Information Revolution

Young Mr. Zimmer tucks the sheet of paper into his binder to ponder at a later date.

Flash forward a decade and a half. It’s 2009, and that date has arrived. Mr. Zimmer is no longer an East Coast theatre nerd. He’s an actor and director in Toronto’s theatre scene, and he’s decided that the time has finally come to explore the list of scientific movements that some old lady in Nova Scotia deemed most relevant to the progress of the human race. (more…)

Once upon a time, picture books were for kids, cartoons were for toddlers, and comic books were for juvenile delinquents. Not any more. But while comics and animated movies have finally come of age, picture books, it seems, have been left in the playpen. Australian-born Shaun Tan is one of the few writer/illustrators who have successfully managed to market picture books to adults. His stories are simple yet cerebral, and his images illuminate the subtext of his subtle narratives in a way that makes you wish all books had pictures.

Tales from Outer Suburbia is Tan’s fourth solo project, and contains fifteen unique tales of surreal suburban strangeness. When not making picture books, Tan has worked as a concept artist on Pixar’s Wall-E and on the animated adapation of Dr Seuss’s Horton Hears a Who. I spoke with Shaun in the Toronto offices of his Canadian publisher, McClelland & Stewart, about radio isotopes, industrial waste, and the contemporary importance of broad swords.

THE WALRUS: It seems like you’re creating a new genre. Where is all of this heading?

Shaun Tan: Not really anywhere in particular. I don’t have that kind of manifesto. I don’t have a vision. I’m following my nose and dealing with one project at a time. I have some sense of the culture around me but it’s not very developed or informed. It’s kind of scattered. I draw a little bit of knowledge from what’s happening in literary fiction, what’s happening in science fiction, what’s happening in children’s books, what’s happening in the fine art world, what’s happening in mainstream illustration. Also, what’s happening in Australia, which is, you know, my immediate neighbourhood, is an influence. I wouldn’t really have much of a clue about illustration trends in the United States. (more…)

For those of you who missed the Obama love-in that was the “America Votes” IFOA event this past Saturday afternoon, let me assure you that it warmed the hearts of every Democrat supporter in the room (i.e. everyone in the room). Postulating on the impending election hoopla were Hugh Eikin, senior editor of the New York Review of Books; economics writer Jeff Madrick, author of The Case for Big Government; and host Michael Tomasky, the colourful editor of Guardian America, who promised to resort to “cheap punditry,” should he be prodded to do so. He was and he did, making the wise suggestion to “choose the smart guy this time.” (more…)

Talking to writer/director Paul Gross about his epic new World War I movie

“I liked it because it’s Canadian.”

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say about Paul Gross’s new film Passchendaele, or so I learned from one of my Walrus colleagues the other evening over beer and nachos. “Trust me,” one of them said, Heineken in hand, “there’s no more back-handed compliment than saying you like something because it’s Canadian.” Hmm. I pondered the statement, growing a little red in the face. “Girls say it to me all the time,” he added with a sigh.

Did I play the fool for admitting I liked something simply because it came from the same place I did? Was I judging this film using criteria that disregarded artistic merit, that paid no attention to script, cinematography, or even (gasp) acting? Do we, as Canadians, observe our own creations through maple-leaf coloured glasses? (more…)

I moved to Toronto from Vancouver a couple of weeks ago, and one of the things I miss most about home is the daily commute that took me over the Cambie Street Bridge and into the downtown core each morning. I’d hop on my trusty ten-speed (minus one brake cable, but who’s counting?) and rocket down the hill, past the all-too-familiar yellow and red safety vests of the Canada Line construction workers, and onto the wide bike-friendly path speckled with self-propelled individuals on their way to work. On rainy days my view from the bridge was limited to the slippery pavement in front of me, but on the rare and much celebrated occasion of a clear, sunny Vancouver morning, the city would rise up before me in all its tall, glassy glory.

To my left, the expansive curve of English Bay’s shores would wind beneath the Burrard Street Bridge, where tiny rainbow-coloured ferries shuttled market workers to Granville Island. To my right, the waters of False Creek would reach into the city, before ending abruptly at the foot of the Expo ‘86 architectural orb known as Science World. And in front of me, clusters of residential towers would form a shining wall across the horizon, some so distant that only the sharp glare of their reflections would register, others so close that I could see through their windows smartly dressed couples making breakfast and preparing for the day. It was easy to see how Vancouver earned the Coupland-coined moniker “City of Glass.” (more…)