Buzz, Buzz, Buzz November 5, 2009

Here’s the quick and dirty ’round these parts:

This week was my thirty-fourth birthday.   Chronology puts me firmly in adulthood.  I expect my maturity level to catch up any day now.

The Righteous Tithe, opens this Friday at The Ottawa School of Speech and Drama.  Written by my friend and colleague, Doug Phillips and directed by my other friend and colleague, Paul Dervis this political drama has given me an opportunity to trot out yet another accent: joual! If you want to see the show, check out the Upcoming Appearances page for more details.

 

Here’s the awesomely awesome from the Adorkable Blogosphere:

The Ottawa Xpress has nominated the Ottawa Arts Newsletter for best local blog/website!  Props, Jess!

Sterling wrote a play!  In, like, a weekend.  And it’s good!  I’m so inspired by his accomplishment, that even though I have no script,   I am definitely going to apply for this year’s Ottawa Fringe Festival.   Because if Sterling can whip up an awesome script in a weekend…I still probably can’t.  But I can probably write a shoddy script in a couple of weeks and shine it up.

Megan Butcher is sublime.  A former colleague from my Venus Envy days, object of my admiration and an amazing writer to boot.  She will be the feature act the next Voices of Venus, this coming Tuesday.  Sadness, as I will miss this one…but you should definitely go!

Wayne, Sterling, Chantale and her beloved Tim are poised to REPRESENT at the Eastern Ontario Drama League One-Act Festival Next Saturday.   Tim and Chantale, will surely direct the Toto Too crew to glory with their remount of The Soldier Dreams.  Followed by the premiere of Tim’s play, Deliver’d From Nowhere!

 

And Finally:

If anyone is looking to unload their extra Hallowe’en candy, feel free to send it my way.  (I take unfinished pies and cupcakes too!)

Relief November 1, 2009

I love Hallowe’en!   It’s a brilliant amalgam of fashion and candy – two of my favourite indulgences.  If that weren’t enough there are fabulous parties, with awesome people.  Yes, Hallowe’en is for awesome!

I have a big bowl of Tootsie rolls by my side as I write this.  No stereotypically revealing ladies’ costume for me.  No costume at all.  Unless ” Girl Who Punked Out On Hallowe’en” counts, in which case these comfy sweats are ideal.  I lieu of parties, I’ve opted to spend this night at home.   Hallowe’en bashes are always a blast, but right now my couch seems like the greatest place on earth.

Last night was the New Ottawa Repertory Theatre/Match International presentation of I Have Before Me A Remarkable Document Given To Me By A Young Lady From Rwanda. In a previous post, I wrote that I was having a hard time with the project.  In spite of good advice and tremendous support, I continued to struggle.  This past week was especially difficult.  I haven’t been brilliant company for those who’ve crossed my path of late.

Work began early yesterday, with an italian and a second run-through.  To my surprise, I was less distressed than I have been for days.  Instead I felt thankfully numb; an admittedly undesirable state for an actor about to do work. There was some half-hearted  self-chastising about being unprofessional and a coward, but I was relieved that my psyche had found a way to get me through the day without losing my shit.

That lovely numbness dissipated when My Man of Mans, who had planned to make himself available to me for backstage support called to say our babysitting arrangements had fallen through.  His voice on the phone was sombre with concern, because he is the most wonderful.  I assured him I would be fine, even as I my mind was stammering, ‘But…but…but…’and I began to cry.  I would be fine.    Shortly after, I arrived at the theatre.  The staff showed me to dressing room.  It was private and quiet.  I unpacked my costume and my clothes for after the show.   I cried more.

Once we began the technical rehearsal, I’d resolved to be zen.   No one forced me into this situation.  I wasn’t going to flee the theatre or fake my own death.  I would go on, perform and cope with the emotional fallout.  Unfortunately, my bladder did not get the “Be Zen” memo.  As is always the case when I freak out, my bladder was in overdrive.  I made three mad sprints to the bathroom and missed wetting myself by the narrowest margin.

I decided it would be best to avoid liquids altogether during dinner.

And then it was show time.  I listened backstage as people came into the theatre. I eschewed my usual pre-show ritual involves hugging of cast mates and wriggling like an excited puppy.  Instead I found a quiet corner and had a little chat with myself.   I reminded myself, that no matter what happened on stage, I was safe.

‘You’re safe.  You’re safe. You’re safe,’  I was mouthing these words as I walked on stage and found my mark.   The lights came up and we began.

I can’t qualify my performance, except to say that it felt real.   I remembered that Jessica had planned on coming.  At one point I spotted her in the audience and I felt grateful that I had at least one friend close by.   But for the most part, it was hard.   And then it was over.   The numbness returned briefly.  My cast mate had to kind of pull me around during the curtain call.

Backstage, there were a few more tears, but this time it was relief making me weepy.   I changed quickly, wanting to get upstairs and see Jessica before she left.   There was a decent crowd in the lobby, so I didn’t see her immediately.   A few people stopped to introduce themselves and chat about the show, which was lovely.   I was speaking with one women, lanky and familiar silhouette drifted into my peripheral vision.  I looked over at the bar and there was Sterling!  A second later, who should I see heading towards me but Wayne!   I excused myself from my conversation (I hope not rudely) and flung myself at my friends.   I was terribly emotional.  I hugged them ferociously even as I tried not to snot on their coats.  I hadn’t the slightest clue they were coming, but knowing they’d been there meant the world to me.

Eventually I found not only Jessica, but Heather-Marie and other familiar faces.   There were more hugs and of course more tears from yours truly before I was called back to the theatre for a panel discussion.

In addition to the members of NORT, the panel  included Paul Dewar (my local political crush) and a young Rwandan feminist, Louise.  Louise was stunning — articulate, beautiful and passionate.   When the discussion ended, we had an amazing conversation.  Or rather she said brilliant things, while I gushed about how brilliant she was.   She introduced me to another woman, who had borne witness to and survived the genocide.   She and I spoke for a long time, about her experiences, her life now and fun, girly things like fashion.   She gave me the most wonderful sincere hug.  I marveled that someone who had experienced the worst of humanity, could still trust a virtual stranger enough to venture an intimate gesture.

And then finally it was time to come home.   It was late, but my Man of Mans was waiting with open arms.   In bed I told him of the evening’s events, while he massaged my body which was sore from the day’s tension.   I fell asleep.

Today, I can feel my distress retreating.  A while my spirit is willing, my body is worn out from adrenaline surges, bladder crises and all the crying.  And so here I am on All Hallow’s Eve, too tired to get my party on.   And it’s fine.   I’m fine.   For all the struggles, yesterday was a good day.   It reminded me of everything I have.  I have my friends.  I have my family.

I have everything.

Ten Reasons To Vote October 30, 2009

The Ottawa Theatre Network and The Great Canadian Theatre Company are making a gambit for their share of The Aviva Community Fund.

Aviva allots it’s dollars using the time-honoured tradition of the popularity contest.   Any organization can throw their hat in the ring, but only those deemed worthy by the general public will move on to the next round.  It’s like the American Idol of bursaries!

Voting is crazy easy.  Just register, click the button, carry on with your day, get a good night’s sleep, log back on the next day, vote again, etc…

It’s easy! It’s clicky! It’s for a good cause!

If that doesn’t convince you, here are TEN MORE REASONS TO CAST YOUR VOTE:

10. Every time you cast your vote for the OTN/GCTC, you get to see a picture of a big spider.  I mean a REALLY big spider!

9. My mom did it.  You like my mom, don’t you?

8. The bid is listed in the “Stimulate Culture” category.  That’s WAY sexier than the “Add Other Ideas” or “Advancement of Slime” categories.

7. The money will bolster Ottawa’s theatre community in a significant way.  Which means more opportunities for thespians like yours truly.  With opportunity comes money.  And when I have money, I’ll be able to buy you more and better presents.  You like presents, don’t you?

6. The more opportunity I have to work, the less time I’ll have for cooking.  This benefits everyone.

5. You can add ‘patron of the arts’ to the “Interests” section of your résumé.

4. Every dollar funneled into the theatre improves our ability to fight the mimes!

3. Well funded theatre yields an abundance of show-stopping musical numbers!  You like show-stopping, musical numbers, don’t you?

2. My husband voted, then I did nice things to him.  Click a couple of times and someone might do nice things to you….

1. Sterling Lynch will personally buy you a drink for every vote you cast.  And not a cheap drink – we’re talking fancy scotch!

So I reiterate – go, click, vote – and then go see Sterling about your drink!

Fifty Thousand Words…Or Six October 27, 2009

In the times of Nadine P.C (Pre-Child), I used to looked forward to November for two reasons:  my birthday and National Novel Writing Month.

I still look forward to my birthday.

NaNoWriMo or “NaNo” as it’s know amongst participants, had to be put aside in lieu of child-rearing.  My son far surpasses NaNo on the Kick-ass Meter.  Nonetheless, I’ve missed the November writing blitz.  Thanks to  NaNo, I understand the value of quantity over quality.  I have three horrendous, unpublished novels to my credit.  Awwww, yeah!

This year, I’ve watched my son develop from a baby to a little boy.  The demands of parenting are still intense, but slightly less-time consuming than the previous two years.  Which means…I’m still not doing NaNo!  Well, not officially.   I still don’t have time to write a bad novel.  The additional me-time is needed to address the mound of writing I need to do, in order to fulfill upcoming commitments and avoid being a jackass.

But necessity is the mother of invention.  And this mother is the inventor of NaPlaWriMo – Nadine Playwriting Writing Month!  My goal: 50,000 words of  unedited, unconsidered, unseemly scripting.  The challenge of mass wordage and a big dent in my workload.  Two birds. One stone.  Booyah!

And if there’s no objection, I may post some of the inevitable blunders throughout November.  After all, if I can’t laugh at myself, you guys can do it for me.

At any rate, my friend, Bart tuned me in to Six Word Stories awhile back.  It’s the antithesis of NaNo, but it  served as a good warm up for the month,the week before the blitz.  So, in anticipation of NaPlaWriMo I give you my first six word script:

SON: Good soup, Mom.

MOM: Soup?

Anyone else for quick and dirty wordsmithing?

A Little Something About A Balloon October 24, 2009

My ego is like a balloon.  Easily inflated.

All is busyness in the Adorkable realm.  At Planned Parenthood, my youth troupe are gearing up for the Insight Theatre premiere tomorrow night.   Next Saturday evening, Doug Phillips and will take the stage for the reprise of  I Have Before Me…, and the following week, I’m up to bat again in The Righteous Tithe.

All this working and rehearsing and being on stage…makes a girl feel like the pants.  Puff, puff, puff goes the balloon.

Paul Dervis, the artistic director for The New Ottawa Repertory Theatre, has cast me a lot this year.   In three of the four shows we’ve worked on together, I’ve had to affect an accent.    During our most rehearsal for Righteous Tithe, Paul made a point of complimenting my skillz of an actor in front of the cast.

Puff, puff, puff…

“Heh.  Maybe I’m only good if I use an accent,” I quipped.  (FYI, when I feel like the shizz, I start hurling quips).  Paul looks at me and says in a kind, but pointed way “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that.”  And we all laughed

My ego is like a balloon.  It’s gonna get popped.  Because sooner or later, I will walk right into the pin.

Night Fever: Evolution Theatre’s Arabian Nights October 20, 2009

Contrary to my usual M.O. when it comes to rehearsals, I’m quite the little keener. Ooo! Ooo! Here I am! Fifteen minutes early with healthy snacks for all!

I never said I wasn’t gross.

I does say something about Evolution Theatre, that I asked to show up at a rehearsal an hour late, just so I could catch the opening of their latest production, Arabian Nights at The Cube Gallery

I’m a big fan of Evolution! They’re a young company, run by younger artists who are always willing to take risks. If there’s one thing I hate more than being late for rehearsal, it’s being bored. Evolution Theatre is never boring.

I was especially excited for this production. Arabian Nights (written by cool-German-name, Roland Schimmelpfennig; directed by cool-not-German-name, Natalie Joy Quesnel) is a crazy, ephemeral dream-come-fairy tale-come-erotic-drama. But don’t rely on my unwieldy description.

The script is fantastic. I read it this summer, when I was preparing my audition for this production. If you see the play, you’ll notice I wasn’t cast. Suckpants for me, but clearly a good decision. The cast: Richard Gélinas, Brad Long, Stewart Matthews,
Emily Pearlman and object of my adoration, Kate Smith are some of this city’s strongest performers. They tackle the demands of the unconventional script, in addition to a lot of physical work. They make it look nearly effortless, but trust me…it’s not.

Although the actors’ handle the physicality in the piece gracefully, at times the movement was more effective than at others. That may have had something with where I was seated. The audience was divided into three sections: one in the center and two off to the sides. The German Ambassador was in attendance. Sensibly, the PTB at Evolution reserved the most of center seats for His Excellency and his entourage. Wanting room to sit with my entourage (Excellencies Sterling and Wayne), I sat on the right hand side. The majority of staging, seemed oriented towards the center section. My advice, get to Cube Gallery early and sit there.

This play is short at 65 minutes. That having been said, I warn you that it’s dense. There are a lot of non-sequentially connected dots and at the risk of sounding dim, there are aspects of the story (or stories) that would have wooshed over my head, had I not read the script. Which isn’t to say, you need to read this before you see it. Just be prepared to do some active listening.

It’s not a perfect production, but it’s got a lot going for it. And it’s definitely not boring. It runs this Wednesday through Saturday at the Cube Gallery. I absolutely recommend checking it out. Totally worth being branded a rehearsal delinquent!

If All The World’s A Stage, I’ve Been Miscast! October 14, 2009

Most actors I know yearn for a diverse, abundance of roles.  I do.   The chance to inhabit different characters in a variety of situations — that was one of the major selling points when I opted into this career.

Some actors seem to have been gifted with the chops to play any role.  I am not that actor.   I started on this journey with a fairly limited range.  With training, experience (both professional and the general life-type) that range has expanded.  But it’s something I’ll have to work at my entire career.  And even if I were able to channel any person with flawless emotional/psychological accuracy, my physical body is a factor that can only be altered so much.

There’s the black thing.  When you’re a visible minority working in a predominantly white market, there aren’t a lot of opportunities to play the family member.  Even after a stellar audition, few directors are willing put fellow cast members in black-face for my sake.   As for colour blind casting, well, just…no.

I’m in my thirties, but I  have a twelve-year-old’s face that can pass for cute given the right make-up. And that face sits atop a relatively small body.  I look young for my age, especially when you factor in the distance that separates the audience from the stage.   Because of  my long-time commitment to quality undergarments I fill out a sweater pretty well.

Not related + kind of  cute + young(ish) + well-supported boobs = Ingenue

That, more than any other is part that I play.  And this may sound like to lead in to a rant, but really it’s not that bad.   I’ve played the cute, young thing in a myriad of situations.  I’ve been an prostitute, a prude, a killer, all manner of things.  The costumes are usually awesome.   And slowly, I’ve been given a chance to take on other roles.   Next month, I’ll appear on stage as decidedly uncute, forty-something-year-old, which is liek whoa – uncharted territory!

Of course physicality, along with make-up, prosthetic and whatever embellishments a company can afford have the power to transform.  But left to my own god-or-whoever given devices, there’s only so much I can do.  A few years ago, I gave a terrible performance as southern, baptist church lady.   Let it be known that my work was legitimately terrible.  But the first point of entry for the character I was given was, “This woman weighs 300 hundred pounds”.   And I tried.  Oh, how I tried.   But I could not size-up.  As much as I tried to take up space on stage, I could never lose awareness of body that neither looked nor felt three times larger than my own.  That idea wreaked havoc on my performance.  That… and the fact that I blew.

Humans make assumptions/judgments based on visual information all the time.  As such, type-casting seems inevitable.  An audiences social generalizations combined with an  actor’s physical attributes translate into a sort of shorthand.  Conversely,  (Pretentious Artist Alert!)  the director can  subvert the audiences association of Type A = Personality A by purposely casting against type and create a  kind of tension.

So fellow actors — do you find you’re type cast?  If so,  as who?  And for the broader audience,  what sort of assumptions (if any) do people make based on your physical attributes? On a scale of 1 – 10, how would you rate your boobs?

p.s. I read the subject heading somewhere else. (Lest anyone think I’m witty enough to paraphrase Shakespeare in such a topical way).

Ten Things You Should Know About Me: 2009 Version October 9, 2009

I’m mining my LiveJournal, looking for posts that might make good reading for my Voices of Venus set in January.  I stumbled upon one post, I wrote in response to a blog-meme.  The challenge: write ten things people should know about you.   It is the seminal, (admittedly self-centered) blog entry on Nadine.  I thought it would be fun to rework it and re-posted it here.

While we’re on the subject, if anyone would like to respond and/or post their own “Ten Things”  (or any number, for that matter) I would love to read them!  I want to know you, people!  Don’t force me to e-mail one of those inane “What did you have for breakfast?” quizzes!

Without further ado…TEN THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT ME:

1. The Basics. Actually, you probably know most of this stuff. I’m a woman. I list my occupation as “actor/playwright” on relevant forms.  I also work part time as the theatre co-ordinator at Planned Parenthood. I. Am. Canadian. I’m almost thirty-four years old . I’m married to a man I adore. I am mother to a gorgeous, energetic, hilarious, exhausting little boy.  I’m in a sexually monogamous relationship with my husband; however I am attracted to and have had past sexual experiences with both men and women.  Hence, I self-identify as bisexual .

2. All or Nothing. No matter what the spectrum, I tend to  hover near one end or the other. In general, I’m elated, I’m devastated, I’m terrified, etc. Rarely do I  experience the feeling expressed as “meh”.  If I do something, my instinct is to do it hard-core or not at all.  I exercise with rigorous regularity or I’m a big, lazy couch potato. I either love that painting/person/food/place/song/garment/book/game/thing or I don’t want any part of it. I have a very hard time with anything that I find merely “tolerable”. The upside is that I passionately love many of the people/things in my life. The downside is that my all or nothing attitude can easily become counterproductive. I have a tendency to give up on things if they aren’t turning out as brilliantly as I’d hoped. I’ve had and still have difficulty in acknowledging the value in an attempted endeavour. For my first race, I’d wanted to run the half-marathon but in the end opted to do 10K. It took days of self-lecturing to convince myself that this was an accomplishment, not a failure. Something ventured, something gained is a concept I still struggle to wrap my head around.

3. Rock the Vote. I’m socially and politically liberal (not necessarily Liberal). I  strongly advocate equal opportunity for all people regardless of race, sexual orientation or gender. Yes, I’m a feminist, damnit. I’m pro-choice. As far as I’m concerned gay, lesbian, transgendered and transsexual people are entitled to the same rights as the rest of us, including legal marriage.  These are the issues that influence my decisions come election time, however, I’m far more passionate about my social values. A candidate with the most the brilliant fiscal platform on earth, who opposes gay marriage or legal abortion is not getting my vote. Period. And I always vote. I believe very strongly in the democratic process. As a woman, as a person of colour, I understand that I’m damn lucky to live in a society where I have the right to be heard. So I always vote. Period.

4.I Am NOT cool. Oh how I wish I were graceful, eloquent, well-styled and poised.   Once upon a tortured adolescence I tied myself in knots, emulating the social alpha dogs who ruled the scene.  But I am a flailer.  Quite literally.  I have these, long ungainly arms  that I flap around until next thing you know, my tea is in my lap.  I’m bookish, I’m sloppy and I’ve never mastered the art of small talk.  I have a host of weird afflictions: dyslexia, anxiety, hypoglycemia, deadly food allergies.  I could go on and on, but if you know me, then you know.  I’m not cool.  I will never be cool.  And I’ve long since lost the energy to try.  So I accept the flail.  I embrace it!  I am dork, hear me roar (then watch me trip over something)!

5.I Talk About Sex . Frankly, explicitly and often. Rarely to shock, occasionally to amuse but always in the hopes that I will learn or teach something new. To be fair, my parents were good if I had specific sex-related questions I had. But beyond “where do babies” come from and stuff about my period, I didn’t ask a lot. I did read my fair share of soft-core romance novels, with occasional glimpses of Penthouse/Girls-Gone Wild variety porn thrown in there somewhere.  Throw in some  early sexual experience that were not awesome and it’s not surprising that I struggled with my sexuality for a long time.
Things began to change for me in university.  I’d hang out with my classmates and we’d talk sex. Everything was offered up… oral sex, anal sex, casual encounters, positions, locations, dysfunctions, crushes, cocks, clitorises and so much more.  Slowly I began to realize that I wasn’t a slut, a prude or any kind of freak. I was just me.
I believe sex is something that can really fuck us up (pun-intended). Which is why I believe in the value of discussing sex openly and freely. Because no matter whether your celibate or a sex-addict, someone somewhere can likely relate. And even if you’re the only one that’s okay too. Your sex life isn’t supposed to be like mine and maybe if we talk about it, we’ll understand that as long as we’re satisfied, it’s all good.

6. I Learn By Example (NOT). When I learn from others, I learn best by their mistakes. I don’t know why. Collectively, the people in my life have a wealth of magnificent qualities and experiences that you’d think I’d be able to emulate, seeing as I’m an actor and all. But no. While, I can admire a person’s positives, I can’t ever seem to take them on. But I’m brilliant at figuring out how to avoid people’s missteps. I grew up with parents who never learned how to communicate with one another effectively and saw the terrible way it eroded their marriage. In my own marriage I am communication woman. My mother had spent her life in a career that pays fairly well but that hurts her soul.  I pursue work in an unstable, undervalued arena that I love. Hmmm…maybe this is just about me not wanting to be my mother? Just kidding…I love you, Mom!

7. I Fear Regret.  My best friend, Stephanie sometimes tells me that I’m brave. I’m not.  The seemingly “brave” things I do are motivated by my overwhelming fear of regret. Because you can’t do anything to fix regret. Regret is opportunity gone by. You can accept it and learn to live with it. But I don’t know if I can. I already have a few regrets and they’re like spring-loaded sticks of pain that jab me in the heart. To me, regret is a hundred times worse than humiliation, fear, rejection or another kind of pain. So really, I’m not brave. I’m just running from a different beast.

8. My Friends Are My Family. I have a deep, passionate love for my friends. When I connect with someone I tend to attach strongly and fairly quickly. My therapist tells me that because my family of origin was unstable, I’ve sought security and express love through a surrogate family of friends.  That surrogate family is an amalgam of  truly exceptional people who make my days very good.  Thanks, troubled childhood!  I do love my friends, really and truly.  I also worry that I come on too strongly. I try to be conscious of boundaries and not insinuate myself into people’s lives. Please tell me if I do. Which brings me to…

9. Give It To Me Straight. If there’s something between us that’s less than pleasant, please just tell me. I’d appreciate it if you’d be as gentle as possible, but I’d rather have it out in the open so we can deal. I know you don’t want to hurt my feelings. I don’t want my feelings hurt either…it makes me cry. But I’ll get over it. Which is not to say that I expect people to tell me everything. We all have our secrets. We all have times when we honestly feel it’s better to say nothing. But if you’re seething every time I say or do that thing, tell me.  If I hurt your feelings, say so.  I’ll try to  work it out with you.

10. Creativity Is Life.  Well, it’s my life. Writing, painting, dancing, acting…never do I feel more like myself than when I’m engaged in these activities. Crafting colour, sound and movement is my purest expression of soulfulness, the closest I ever feel to what some of you call God. Creativity gives my life depth and something beyond merely existing. In the best times it’s not a product, only about process. I love to share my creativity with others, but ultimately when I step onto the stage, pick up a brush or move to the music I do it for myself and in these times I’m so very glad that I am me.

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Did You Know Art Is A Defense For Rape? That’s Because IT ISN’T! October 4, 2009

Dear gentle readers.  People defending rapists fills me swear-laden rage.  Profanity and all-caps ahead. Proceed with caution.

To: Celebrity Rape Apologists

Re: Roman Polanski

Um, guys?  What the shizz?  I’m very happy that Chinatown is a cinematic masterpiece.  I hear The Pianist was wicked too.  And it is a shame that Roman Polanski couldn’t come to the Oscars to accept his award.  Oh wait, no it’s not!  Because RAPISTS should not be allowed to go to the Academy Awards!  RAPISTS should be in JAIL!

Hey, Debra Winger!  The last time I checked, the Zurich Film Festival is not a sacred event.  “This fledgling festival has been unfairly exploited and whenever this happens the whole art world suffers.”  Are you kidding me?  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!  Let me tell you who has been exploited; the thirteen-year-old girl, who was given drungs, alcohol then made to have sex when she said she didn’t want.   Let’s review the rules Debra Winger, Hollywood, everyone else:

40-something-year old + 13-year-old + sex = RAPE!

Quaaludes  + sex = RAPE!

Being told “no”  + sex = RAPE!

If art and artistry as we know it is on the verge of collapse, here’s a wild idea – let’s blame Roman Polanski.  How about we don’t vilify the authorities who arrested A FUCKING RAPIST AND EVADED SENTENCING!

And by the way, Pedro Almodovar, David Lynch and Mel Gibson (are you people freaking KIDDING ME!?), making good movies is not the Get Out of Rape Free Card.   Being pretty, seductive or sent over by one’s mom is not consent.  Not only do you not know this, but you actually believe the opposite.  This is terrifying!

Whoopi Goldberg, I usually think you’re awesome.  But your “rape-rape” analysis makes me full-on stabbity!  Being beaten up and forced to have sex by a shadowy figure hiding in the bushes is rape.  Being drugged and forced to have sex by a cinematic genius?  Still rape! Polanski raped her.  This fact is not up for debate or hyphenate qualifications!

Roman Polanski is not a victim!  Living in Europe is NOT punishment!  Have you people SEEN France?  It’s FUCKING gorgeous, with the good food, the spectacular art, the avant-garde fashion.  And no, Polanski wasn’t expecting to get arrested when he went to Switzerland.  That doesn’t matter.  If *I* went to Switzerland and was unexpectedly arrested, *I* would be a victim.  Because *I* didn’t PLEAD GUILTY to a felony of unlawful sexual assault with a minor and then skip town for thirty-something years! Making awesome films isn’t community service!  It doesn’t count as time served!

It’s a crime!  It’s a horrible, demoralizing, evil crime!  What about being famous prevents one from understanding this? For reals, yo -have you people gone mental?  Or is there a Really Good Artist Exemption section in U.S. law.  Is that why Canadian talent keeps heading south?  If I write a really, really, REALLY, good play what felonies am I allowed to commit?

Roman Polanski is a  CREEPY PEDOPHILE.  He’s been arrested so he can go to the place where CREEPY PEDOPHILES are supposed to go: Jail.  And when he gets out he can make a movie about it.  And it will be brilliant . Then you can all give him an Oscar and he’ll be able to attend.  Then you can all go to the Governor’s Ball together and toast the most talented rapist Hollywood has ever known!

In conclusion, no love and FUCK OFF!

AT