I’m back from seeing My Fair Lady at the Toronto Centre for the Arts, a performance which began with not one but two false fire alarms (and one full-scale evacuation, which also required the evacuation of a smaller, adjacent theatre which actually had a performance in progress at the time), included one of the all-time worst audiences I’ve been a part of (Gord Downie was right: the kids don’t get it), and witnessed the rebirth of my favourite Toronto theatre. I hadn’t been to the TCA since November 1997, when I saw Show Boat there; it’s still as good a venue as I remember, and I’m absolutely thrilled to have it back.
(Relevant aside: this weekend marks eleven years since the Westgate band trip to Toronto, which means I last saw Donny Osmond in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat eleven years ago this evening. It also means we’re fast approaching the anniversary of my first kiss, but that’s for later; for now, the fact I just wrote this paragraph should help explain why girls didn’t talk to me until third year university.)
As for the show, it was delightful. Christopher Caznove, as Henry Higgins, was especially good; he channeled Rex Harrison without allowing his performance to descend into parody. Anyway, I’ll have more to say on the subject tomorrow–but for now, bed, ’cause that’s what being on holiday is all about!