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Allan Morgan

David Oiye

Ilena Lee Cramer

Sarah Stanley

Greg MacArthur

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primed time and redefinitions

I guess these are givens. Democracy has been redefined. It now means capitalism. Disagreement has also been altered to jive with terrorism. Security is now a hand that carries a license for aggression and the Axis of Evil, has apparently, come to "mean" certain countries. Since the relatively recent explosion of the Internet, the physical world has flattened. Too many people now - for my liking - say: "across the world." Does anyone remember that we live on a curve? So, to quote from its newly baptized "spin," provided by a bank commercial, times they are a changing. And with these times comes - well - change.

But.

There has never been a time where Queer Theatre - as an entity - spoke in ways other than it did, does, or might again do, in the coming minutes of our lives.

So.

Queer Theatre has not left us, but it likely has changed its wardrobe. I'll say this: Queer Theatre is the end result of putting statement into action. And this: As an entity, Queer Theatre is not "like" anything. It is not "like" deconstructionism, (or indeed any "ism") camp or satire, nor is it close to any manner of issue driven play (Although any of these aforementioned, plus countless others, may assert their potency over the course of an evening). And let's also say this: Queer Theatre is not a style of presentation (Although style may play gleefully in its ineffable midst). And finally this: Queer "themed" work seems as tangible as, say, orange themed work.

And yet.

Queer Theatre is definable. For starters, it is a manner of play that turns its back on "bottom-line finance mentality." It is story telling that seeks to include, on the "outside," those who cannot "fit" on the inside. Maybe I should call this rimming theatre. Its aim is virile, but its desire is incontestably at odds with reproduction. It does not want children as a result of its act.
It wants the act, itself.

In this non-reproducible way, Queer Theatre exhausts itself. It has a genetically encoded will to fly as high as the sun. A burn out built in. You (as a "you") can only touch the sun once. Thankfully "you" and indeed Queer Theatre itself can reinvent - like so many incredible folks before have done. Cocteau, Lorca, Gilbert, MacIvor - to name a few. Because without reinvention the only option left is Viagra.

But.

As far as I understand it, Viagra is used to make something happen that is not actually happening. Wondering where all the queer theatre has gone is like inventing a sex-life that never happened (which can be great fun) and then asking for a prescription to help bring you back to the place you never were. (Which strikes me as rather tedious.) Some readers may have noticed that the two foregoing paragraphs were written from a euro-male perspective. But if you didn't, then there it is. Go back up and have a look. Icarus, Cocteau, Viagra. And, well, as a woman, who has been asked to write about "Queer," well, I guess, truth be told, that the word seems to conjure this kind of thinking. And I don't see anything inherently wrong with this. (Other than the regular sense of exclusion humans face along the path.) But to finish the point, I believe that Queer Theatre shares exclusionary power with its mainstream counterpart. And while I would prefer that gender weren't inherently part and parcel of Queer Theatre, I believe it is. Annie Sprinkle or a well-intentioned "females included" push at Buddies In Bad Times Theatre, cannot begin to make up for the actual gap that exists between the work of men and women on the rim.¹

Yet.

Depending on my mood, and indeed whether or not my present work crosses over into a mainstream realm, I do consider my heart fully allied with what I understand Queer Theatre to be.

There was a point at which the western calendar, the one that determines when stock markets open and close, there was a moment when this calendar had three nines. Prince immortalized it. And then, suddenly, it had three zeros. Nines were queer. They look queer. They feel queer and indeed throughout the double nine - into its treble, we all felt a little queer. To misquote from "Lear," We are as the numbers are.

And when I use the "we," I do it with purpose. The thinking, or perhaps more importantly the action that represented the thinking, that was put into motion 30 years prior was prime. And by the time those gorgeous "9" years - that started in 89 right through to 99 - by the time they rolled around, a fully formed belief system was in its prime. It was a scene, and it was exciting. But it was also a scene that a great many people seemed to want to get in on. Everyone, it seemed, (at least the people who believed themselves to live just a little bit left of center) wanted to get down with the queer folk. And I believe that was an amazing moment in history. This was minutes before Arcand's visionary forecast of "Decline of The American Empire" actually started to come true.

Then the zeros came marching in, and with them a tidal wave of anti-anything-ism, like I have never seen. Entropy ensued; everyone wanted off the edge but there can't possibly be enough room for everyone in a "security conscious" middle… Therefore, thanks to time again, a new "something" has been reformulating and is beginning to emerge.

Anecdotally, I agree with Pierre Elliot Trudeau's understanding of the bedroom. It is no one's affair unless the people using the bedroom want to invite the world in. I live in Montreal now, and I recently walked past the windows of The Queen Elizabeth Hotel. When I was growing up here, the hotel was on Dorchester Boulevard. It is now on Rene Levesque. The building has not moved but the attitudes most definitely have. In this hotel, a profoundly queer morality play unfolded on one of its floors. John and Yoko performed there for Peace. This was such an exciting schism-forming moment. But it is "zero time" now. And with that time, the windows proudly "sell" this now sanitized event right alongside its fine dining and proximity to the train station.

I do believe that once the motive for profit enters, a true Queer Theatre must make a hasty retreat. But the place of retreat, like the point of view of the oppressed, is more often than not the place where true action begins yet again to foment. Queer Theatre, I trust, is a voice for this action.

It is said that the universe tends towards entropy. Isn't it enlivening to know that universe shifting theatre (which is likely rooted in a "queerdom" and therefore, I now posit somewhere allied with a "code" for exceptional…) that great theatre will always find the portal?

And it will, just so long as we continue to remember everything, and most importantly that we remember that the world is not flat.

So what does it all mean to me? This. We are living in different times. Theatre that speaks must recognize this. People who make work must act with this in mind. Because a same-sex kiss is about as dramatic as the constant replay of it on the evening news. And same sex peoples are really just an economic block that "democracy" wants to ensure it keeps its hands on. So, if the aim is to make work that enlivens and unleashes, then it strikes me that it is not going to be about kisses. Kisses are great. Thanks be for kisses! Kisses were an extremely important part of the revolution. But the revolution (inherent in the word itself) keeps moving. For me, Queer Theatre must be and is all about revolution.

So.

Let's put to bed, the notion that two women or two men making fantastic love in the moonlight will - by definition - have anything at all to do with Queer Theatre. The kisses had their time as the predominant wager of Queer Theatre. Taking the kisses out, in order to wage the art necessary for today - Now that strikes me as queer: Queer Theatre at its most provocative and at its "flying in the face of" easily definable culture stopping work.

And to wind it all in, to a pithy conclusion, it is because of an ongoing and unerring capability to be revolted and to revolt that "Queer Theatre" might consider a new name, but should constantly consider redefinition.

And, because of this:

"It" will always have the potential to produce the most exciting work imaginable.