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SFU connections at Word Vancouver

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Take a break from essays, readings, and assignments this weekend and enjoy some non-academic literary entertainment at Word Vancouver.

Celebrating its 20th anniversary, the annual book and magazine festival is the biggest in Western Canada and takes place September 24 to 28 at various locations in Vancouver. The festival recently expanded to five days culminating in the flagship event on Sunday at Library Square in downtown Vancouver.

The festival kicks off on Wednesday, September 24 with the first event at Paper Hound bookstore on West Pender Street, just a few blocks from both the Harbour Centre and Woodward’s campuses. Kevin Spenst, an SFU alumnus, will host poet Andrew McEwan for a lunchtime reading.

“Festival attendees can take in 100 readings, 150 authors, and 20 workshops — all free,” emphasizes executive director Bryan Pike. Among these, more than a dozen presenters have SFU connections, such as Hugh J.M. Johnston, professor emeritus of history. Johnston will read from his new expanded edition of The Voyage of the Komagata Maru: The Sikh Challenge to Canada’s Colour Bar, which was re-released for the 100-year anniversary of the incident. Johnston also penned Radical Campus: Making Simon Fraser University, with which many students will be familiar.

Poet Phinder Dulai, another SFU alumnus, explores the Komagata Maru incident from a different perspective. On Sunday, Dulai will read from his third poetry collection, dream / arteries, which connects the 376 Sikh passengers with other migrants who travelled on the same ship throughout its 36-year career.

If fiction is more your thing, you need to hear Wayde Compton, director of The Writers’ Studio at SFU, read from his new book The Outer Harbour. Compton, known for his poetry, has written his debut collection of linked short stories, which explores the intersection of place and identity.

If you’re hands-on or DIY-inclined, “new this year, we’re celebrating chapbooks with a workshop, exhibits, readings, and a panel discussion,” says Pike. Continuing Studies instructor Heidi Greco will co-teach a chapbook workshop on Saturday, September 27 at our own Harbour Centre campus (email [email protected] to register). Then, on Sunday, there is a whole section at Library Square dedicated to chapbooks.

Perhaps you’re more interested in traditional publishing in the digital era: you’re in luck! Publishing@SFU is co-presenting several talks at the festival with SFU instructors Monique Sherrett, John Maxwell, and Suzanne Norman on various topics from online marketing to digital books.

After 20 successful years, executive director Bryan Pike attributes Word Vancouver’s on-going popularity to the event’s accessibility, “primarily by remaining 100 per cent free and providing all-ages programming, making it inclusive and accessible.”

However, as funding sources decline and costs rise, the Word Vancouver team is turning to crowd funding. “We’ve launched our ‘Keep it Free’ campaign on Indiegogo, which runs until the 29th of September,” says Pike. “Funds raised will ensure future audiences get to experience our great writing and publishing community in the form of Word Vancouver, for free, for many years to come.”

The other great thing about Word Vancouver is that there is something for everyone from children’s literature, poetry, magazines, and writing workshops, to booths for local arts and literary organizations, book arts demos, and even musical performances.

Full schedule details are available at www.wordvancouver.ca or pick up a program guide at your local bookstore or library.

 

VIFF partners with SFU Woodward’s as a screening venue

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This year, the Vancouver International Film Festival will come to SFU Woodward’s. Celebrating its 33rd year, this annual festival brings some of the best films from around the globe to Vancouver, and is making a stop at all of SFU’s campuses.

VIFF and SFU have partnered to host free screenings of this year’s official VIFF selections at both the Surrey and Burnaby campuses — screenings at the Woodward’s campus are part of the regular ticketed programming. Anyone can view seven films that were hand-picked by artistic director Alan Franey and representatives from both SFU Burnaby and Surrey, free of charge. At Burnaby, Class Enemy, The Womb, Before the Last Curtain Falls, and Just Eat It: A Food Waste Story will play on October 1 and 2, while on October 8 and 10 Just Eat It: A Food Waste Story, Horses of Fukushima, Noble, and Flowing Stories will play in Surrey.

Class Enemy by debuting director Rok Bicek revolves around a group of Slovenian teens who blame their new and demanding German teacher when one of their classmates commits suicide. The Womb, a thriller from Peru, follows the life and pregnancy of Mercedes, played by Mayella Lloclla. Things take a dark turn for Mercedes when she is hired as a housemaid by wealthy widow Silvia, played by Vanessa Saba. Before the Last Curtain Falls follows a troupe of 60 and 70-year-old gay and trans performers on the last leg of a huge tour.

By filmmakers Jen Rustemeyer and Grant Baldwin, Just Eat It: A Food Waste Story speaks on the colossal and shocking waste of food currently occurring in North America. Horses of Fukushima tells the stories of horses destined to the meat trade that are ironically saved by the the 2011 earthquake and tsunami in Japan.

Featuring Brendan Coyle (Downton Abbey), Liam Cunningham (Game of Thrones) and Ruth Negga (12 Years a Slave), Nobel  tells the inspiring story of Christina Noble who finds her life’s work in the aftermath of the Vietnam War. Flowing Stories is a bittersweet documentary following the lives of a family in Hong Kong over many decades, featuring real home video footage, and photos.

The VIFF presence will be strongest at the SFU’s Woodward’s campus, as the Djavad Mowafaghian Cinema at Goldcorp Centre for the Arts will present 60 screenings. Through SFU Woodward’s cultural programs, this festival will be made available to both the SFU community and all those living in Vancouver. This partnership allows amazing films to be seen by students, staff, faculty and the greater public, giving us all the opportunity to experience this world-renowned festival.

For all students who wish to attend the film festival, use promo code VIFF14SFU for a discount. A true celebration of the art of film, VIFF will be at SFU Woodward’s from September 25 to October 10. For more information, visit sfu.ca or viff.org

Laughter is bitter in The Skeleton Twins

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Sometimes the only thing that stops us from crying is laughing.

Perhaps this is the reason depressing subject matter such as suicide, infidelity, and sexual abuse makes Craig Johnson’s indie comedy, The Skeleton Twins, such a hoot. In the film, two former Saturday Night Live comics, Kristen Wiig and Bill Hader, play twins whose lives and psyches were irreparably damaged when their father committed suicide during their childhood.

Hader’s character, Milo, is an unsuccessful gay actor who moves back in with his sister after an attempted suicide. While there, Milo tries to get back with an old boyfriend — we later discover this is the teacher with whom he engaged in a sexual relationship when he was 15. Milo sees nothing wrong with the relationship and pursues it as an adult.

His sister, Maggie (Kristen Wiig), who coincidently attempted to commit suicide at the same time, is dealing with equally troubling problems. She is married to a kind man, but one she doesn’t wholeheartedly love. She sleeps around with other men while secretly taking birth control pills to prevent the pregnancy that her husband so desperately wants.

None of this sounds very funny, yet Johnson has managed to make one of the more humorous movies of the year; the genius is that he masterfully melds sitcom-like gags and the character’s melancholic issues.

As we delve further into the material, we see how these characters use their outgoing personalities to mask and forget about their hang ups. As the darkness slowly begins to diminish the light in the story, the humour disappears and the characters’ inner conflicts take center stage.

What could have been a film where juvenile humour undermines the more serious patches of the story, actually ends up being a film with especially nuanced and flushed out characters. The tonal shifts could have been jarring and unnatural, but since they are grounded in the characters and exceptionally navigated by the two central performances, they feel authentic.

For example, there is a scene where Milo and Maggie have a solemn fight and, to lighten the mood and escape the real issues at hand, Milo walks over to the stereo and blasts Starship’s glossy pop song “Nothing’s Going to Stop Us Now.” He busts out flamboyant dance moves and exaggerated lip syncing. Maggie is annoyed at first but can’t help being drawn in by her brother. She too starts to lip sync. It’s a touching yet hilarious sequence that also fits alongside the character’s personalities and coping mechanisms.

When the pop song is over and there are no more comedic sequences the film fearlessly enters into the characters’ hurts; however, it only retreads the same beats that it previously explored in the humorous moments. By the third act, the film stretches its running time to feature length with purposeless flashback montages.

Skeleton Twins is at its best when we laugh with a bitter taste, than when the humor disappears. In the case of Johnson’s film, I suppose it is better to laugh than cry.

The Boxtrolls is entertaining for children and adults

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Animated children’s films are a tricky recipe to get right. They must entertain two widely different demographics with antithetic expectations: children need simplistic stories with simple messages, while adults desire material that is more complicated and cerebral. The Boxtrolls is the rare film that manages to bring the two groups together.

Boxtrolls is a glorious stop-motion animated film by the studio that captured our imagination with such wonderments as Coraline and ParaNorman. Here, Laika Studios is back at it with yet another dark fable, examining how evil men can rise to the top of governments by employing fear and marginalizing minorities.

The allegory, which closely reflects Hitler’s rise to power in Germany, will likely go over the heads of many children, but they will still latch onto the imaginative world and sympathetic characters that directors Graham Annable and Anthony Stacchi put forth.

In a medieval looking world where trolls are clothed with scrap cardboard boxes, a red hat wearing Archibald Snatcher — whose headdress signifies his role as the military enforcer of the city — pursues the prestige of a white hat, which signifies wealth and an influential role in government. Snatcher earns his white hat by scaring the citizens and government into thinking that the harmless trolls who live in the sewer are out to eat their children.

Snatcher stages the kidnapping of a boy named Eggs, which eventually leads to his identity crisis as he is raised by trolls. Years later this boy who identifies himself as a troll suppresses his human characteristics in order to fit in with the trolls with whom he feels connected.

Meanwhile, the daughter of the town’s mayor is neglected and yearning for a father figure as her dad spends more time fretting over tasting exotic cheeses with his fat bureaucrat friends than raising her. Although she lives in a place of privilege, she is far more lonely and unhappy than her counterpart, Eggs — a boy who also never got to know his father.

The two meet through a spectacular coincidence and they slowly build a friendship as they share knowledge: she teaches him about human traits and he offers her insight on the underground society of trolls that have been misrepresented through propaganda and Archibald Snatcher’s fear tactics.

The movie has humorous sequences of propaganda cabarets and satirical exaggerations of the bourgeoisie that, while a bit complex, introduce great moments to teach kids the dangers of handing one’s freedoms over to a militaristic regime. These will also make this a viewing experience that older audiences can enjoy as much, if not more, than their youngsters.

Children will enjoy the slapstick turmoil that the trolls find themselves in; they offer something similar to the minions in Despicable Me, but the darker aspects of the material force us to empathize with them.

Parents should be aware that the film deals with a genocide of the trolls, and may want to evaluate whether the film is appropriate for younger children. However, those in the eight to 10 year range will likely be able to handle the disturbing visuals while also appreciating the identity crisis and parental void in the protagonists.

The trolls don’t talk but convey their shtick through body language and facial expressions, so it’s quite remarkable how much I came to care for these sweet, ugly trolls. As the on-screen critters are always up to something, the critters sitting in the seats next to you won’t be crawling or stirring up any trouble.

Since You Left Us is a hilarious tale of dysfunction

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Like watching a hilarious television sitcom, Since You Left Us is about a sister returning home to her dysfunctional family and learning to accept them for who they are. Susinn McFarlen has written characters that are just exaggerated enough to make you laugh out loud, yet authentic enough to represent people you know.

Fanny (Jillian Fargey) shows up at her sister Denny’s house in Vancouver after flying from Toronto to look for her runaway son, Danno (Mike Gill). Denny (Colleen Wheeler) has her dog Jack in a baby carrier and, having just come back from their mother’s birthday party at Hooters, is furious that Jack wasn’t allowed in the restaurant.

One by one, the rest of Fanny’s family arrives, including their mother, Dolly (Erla Faye Forsyth). Dolly keeps saying that they have to get back to Hooters and her birthday party, but they never make it out of the house.

Although the play takes place in Denny’s living room, it is full of action and family drama, including the revelation that Dolly is now sleeping with Fanny’s ex-boyfriend, Chuck (Derek Metz). Chuck, beer cooler in tow and beer always in hand, raises each new beer to the exclamation, “First one today!”

In the midst of the drunken birthday party, Fanny is trying to convince her son to come home with her to Toronto, but he insists on staying in Vancouver. Denny ardently defends her position of equating Jack (her dog) to Danno, and Dolly doesn’t give a damn about any of it; as long as she’s got a beer in her hand, she’s happy.

These ridiculous characters and their endearing dysfunction had me laughing more than I’ve laughed at the theatre in quite a while, and I loved all the Vancouver references. Dolly’s comments, for instance, that she lives on the North Shore “where all the normal people live,” and not in East Van, which she claims is an extremely dangerous neighbourhood. She also finds it absurd that someone would want to cross a bridge, go through the downtown core, and cross another bridge to see The Sound of Music at Arts Club and watch “someone else’s kids pretend to be the kids from the movie.”

An extremely talented cast, versatile set with details such as paw prints on every surface, and hilarious writing all came together to create this impressive piece of theatre.

 

Putting yourself to the test

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So many acronyms.
Want to make it to grad school? Better get started studying for these tests.

So, you’ve gotten into university, you’ve chosen your major, and you’re knocking off those W, Q, B requirements one by one. Maybe you haven’t chosen your major, and have no idea what it’s going to be, but are still checking off those bachelor degree requirements. Whatever your situation, you know that you want to further pursue education after your bachelor’s degree.

Congratulations, you’ve held onto that eccentric ambition that most sane people have advised you to ignore: you’re gonna stay in school.

You’ve probably heard from peers, educators, parents, and professionals that graduate school, medical school, law school, and any professional school you want to pursue after post-secondary not only requires a bachelor’s degree, an outrageous curriculum vitae, reference letters, and a steroid-injected cumulative grade point average, but also that you perform well on an admission test.

Although there are many professional schools that require their own admission test, there are  three big ones you’ve probably heard of: the MCAT, LSAT, and GRE.

But what’s on these exams? What do they test, how are they scored, and are they really that important for professional school admission? We take a closer look at the big three tests — and what to expect from each.

MCAT

The Medical College Admissions Test, better known as the MCAT, is designed and administered by the American Association of Medical colleges. If you’re applying to medical school in Canada or the United States, you must write this test.

While the number of tests administered from year to year varies, it is being offered 33 times between January 2014 and January 2015. In this one-year period, a person is allowed to take the MCAT three times. Of course, taking the test three times is unnecessary, but if you’re unhappy with your score on your first attempt, you’re allowed to take the test twice more.

When you write the MCAT, it won’t be with a pencil or an exam booklet. Instead, you’ll sit at a desk, answering questions on a computer. Each question is multiple choice: there are 52 questions in the biological sciences section, 52 in the physical sciences section, and 40 in the critical analysis and reasoning section. You’re allowed 70 minutes for the first two sections, and 60 for the third.

Until recently, these were followed by a written response section, but that has since been replaced by a trial section, which is comprised of 32 questions over a 40-minute period. The trial section doesn’t actually count towards your score — it’s used to test out questions for future MCATs.

So what sorts of questions can test-takers expect? The MCAT contains questions on physics, chemistry, biochemistry, biology, and critical analysis and reasoning. The questions on physics, chemistry, and biology are said to be of introductory level difficulty, so if you’ve taken the prerequisites for medical school, these questions should be pretty straightforward. That isn’t to say that they’ll be easy, so study up!

The critical analysis and reasoning section of the test, on the other hand, is designed to evaluate medical school applicants’ ability to comprehend complex information and arguments. From the sample questions I’ve seen, the critical analysis and reasoning section includes a short passage — usually about a page — which is followed by questions about that passage.

For those of you looking to take the test during or after 2015, you can also expect a new section covering the psychological, sociological, and biological aspects of behaviour.

Raw scores from the different sections of the MCAT are each converted to a scale ranging from 1–15. Each score from the different sections is added for a total of 45 possible points. For example, a score of 13 on physical sciences, 14 on biological sciences, and 11 on critical analysis and reasoning will give you a sum of 38. Your raw score is then converted into a scaled score which compensates for variability between sets of questions used on the test — you’ll also be given info on what percentile of test-takers you fall into.

I recently spoke with a current SFU student who is a prospective med-school applicant; Matias Raski is finishing up a BSc in behavioral neuroscience and says he has already begun studying for the MCAT. “I’m not nervous,” Raski says. “I’ve done very well in all of my introductory science classes, and the MCAT will be just that: material that I’ve already learned and mastered.”

I asked the future doctor whether he thinks the exam reflects his readiness for medical school. “It does, to a limited extent,” he reflected. “It measures certain abilities like rote memorization of well-established scientific observations, but it doesn’t assess the full scope of skills required for success in medicine; perhaps the weight given to students’ MCAT scores in admission decisions should be adjusted accordingly.”

LSAT

Another daunting admission test is the Law School Admission Test, commonly known as the LSAT. If you want to practice law in Canada or the United states, you’ll have to take this one. Unlike the MCAT, the LSAT is only offered four times a year — every February, June, September, and December.

If you happen to flunk the first time you take the test, it’s not the end of the world. You’re allowed to retake the test, but there is a restriction on how many times you can write it — according to the Law School Admission Council, a test-taker can only take the LSAT a maximum of three times within a two-year period. As always, rule changes with these tests do occur; make sure to do your research.

The LSAT is made up of five components: three multiple choice sections, a written section, and an unscored variable section used to pre-test new questions. The multiple choice sections have between 24–27 questions each; its three multiple choice sections are what count toward your LSAT score. The written component is not graded and does not count towards your admission score; as in the MCAT, it’s there to help create new questions for future LSATs.

However, unlike the MCAT, the written portion of the LSAT is sent to the school you’re applying to — some schools will even use it to choose between applicants, so again, make sure to do your research.

You’re given 35 minutes per section, for a total of about three hours. There are three types of multiple choice questions that you will encounter on the LSAT: reading comprehension, analytical reasoning, and logical reasoning.

The reading comprehension section consists of a medium to large passage, varying in topic. This section requires careful observation in order to answer correctly. The analytical reasoning section, generally considered the toughest part of the test, consists of what some refer to as ‘logic games.’ You’re given a set of facts, a set of rules, and then asked which conclusions follow.

The logical reasoning section presents short to medium passages, and proceeds to ask questions about those passages. The questions might ask what can or cannot follow from what has been discussed in the passage; alternatively, they might ask which answers support or don’t support the argument presented in the passage. Finally, the writing section gives you a position and asks you to write in its defense.

The order of all these sections varies from test to test — therefore, it’s possible to begin the test with the writing sample, which is unfortunate, as this section doesn’t count towards your admission score, but costs valuable energy that could be used on sections that do count towards your score.

LSAT scoring is fairly simple. Your test score is converted to a scale ranging from 120–180. The law school admission council admits that, although the LSAT doesn’t completely predict the readiness and success of a student in law school, it does accurately measure characteristics that a law student must have, such as critical thinking, the ability to draw inferences from arguments, and the ability to organize information.

After looking through a few practice LSATs, it’s clear that the analytical reasoning section, or logic games, constitutes the most difficult portion of the exam. The facts and rules provided are fairly simple, but the time frame in which you must complete this section limits the ability to draw the right conclusions.

This is a general feature of the LSAT. It’s not that the questions on this test are extremely difficult; it’s that you only have about a minute and a half to spend on each question.

After reading long passages or attempting to diagram logical problems, you may have to re-read portions of text or rules. This can waste valuable time and affect your ability to answer questions later in the test. Having taken a few of the practice tests, I find myself taking an hour to an hour and a half to complete just one multiple choice section. Fair warning.

GRE

If you’re applying to graduate schools in Canada and the United States, you’ll most likely have to take the Graduate Record Examination test, or one of the many similar exams out there. Designed and administered by Education Testing Services, the GRE is usually administered on a computer, though some still do it the old fashion way: with a pencil and an exam booklet.

The computerized test is offered every 21 days, while the pencil and paper test can only be taken during certain times of the year. You can write the computerized GRE a maximum of five times per 12-month period. Since the pencil and paper exam is offered significantly less often, it can be rewritten as often as it is administered.

There are six sections on both the written and computerized GRE; each section ranges from 20–30 multiple choice questions, or contains written questions requiring long answers. The test is made up of three components: analytical writing, verbal reasoning, and quantitative reasoning.

The time limit and number of questions per section will vary depending on whether you take the computerized version or the written. For example, on the verbal reasoning section in the computerized version, examinees are given 20 questions per section, and 30 minutes to complete them; alternately, in the pencil and paper test, you must complete 25 questions in 35 minutes.

Despite the difference between the computerized and the handwritten versions, the analytical writing section always comes first on the test. The order of the other components will vary from test to test, but at least you’ll know what to expect when you begin.

Since the test is given to a variety of students across many fields, the components of the GRE are said to measure skills that are independent of any specific discipline. Each section presents its own challenges.

The first section aims to test examinees’ ability to articulate complex ideas coherently and concisely. In the verbal reasoning section, examinees are asked to draw inferences from passages, distinguish valuable points from irrelevant ones, and understand the meaning of words and the relationship between them. In the quantitative reasoning section, you’re required to solve problems by using mathematical models, and by applying basic algebra skills, geometry, and arithmetic to problems.

After a raw score is obtained, each of the two multiple choice sections — verbal and quantitative reasoning — get converted into a scaled score ranging between 130–170. The analytical writing section is marked on a 0–6 score scale.

Like the other admission tests, your score is scaled to account for slight differences between tests, but this does not mean that writing a test at one particular date gives you an advantage. Furthermore, your score will also be assigned a percentile ranking, so you know where you stand against other test-takers.

Mathew Gendron, a current SFU student who will soon apply to counseling programs at both SFU and UBC, wrote the GRE this past August. Sharing how he felt going into the exam, Gendron says, “I’d been calm, but a little nervous, throughout the whole process. The programs I applied for place less weight on the exam compared to other things like experience, and have a lower score requirement for the exam. So, I am grateful for that.”

How long did it take to prepare? “I’d say around 75 hours, mostly in the two weeks before the test,” Gendron says.

No matter what school you’re applying to, an admission test is usually weighted pretty heavily. Your score and cumulative grade point average can determine whether the rest of your application is even reviewed. So, if you’re planning on professional school after your bachelor’s, keep your grades up, learn all you can about what determines the acceptance to the school you would like to get into, and most of all, study hard.

SFU grad Joel Salaysay wins Best Fiction Film for Lifers

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“When you wash dishes for a living, your mind wanders, not to fantasy worlds and distant universes . . . it wanders to familiar places, all the places in this world you’d rather be.” This quote, taken from Joel Salaysay’s short film Lifers, sums up his experience as an aspiring filmmaker working as a dishwasher to fund his projects.

Salaysay is a recent graduate from the SFU film program; over the past few months, he received both his Bachelor of Fine Arts degree and the Best Fiction Film award for this film, Lifers, at the 2014 Canadian Student Film Festival (CSFF). The festival, part of the Montreal World Film Festival, featured his film along with 26 other students films, nine of which were also created by SFU students.

The award came as a pleasant surprise for Salaysay who certainly didn’t expect to win anything.  For him, it was a reward in and of itself to have been featured in the festival. Nevertheless, “when you do [win] it’s really nice,” Salaysay said.

Lifers is geared primarily toward those who, like Salaysay, are in the process of finding a career for themselves, but it “struck a chord” with many different groups of people, according to Salaysay. Some have commented on the film’s accuracy. A number of older audiences enjoyed the film and, as Salaysay said, “a lot of people will relate because, who hasn’t worked in a kitchen at some point?”

This is Salaysay’s most personal film. He suspects that borrowing the concept directly from his own experiences led to the film’s authenticity and relatable details.

The term ‘lifers’ is a loose reference to prisoners serving a life sentence. It also alludes to being stuck in transition — doing something one doesn’t wish to do for the rest of one’s life.

Salaysay draws a connection to this using different metaphorical cues throughout the film. The sound of a recurring train at the beginning and end of the film has no real place in a kitchen. Yet the sound cue signifies being stuck on the line, headed somewhere one doesn’t wish to go or forced to see the same scenery again and again, never arriving at the desired destination.

Similarly, hands embody an important rite of passage for culinary experts working in a kitchen, like tattoos in prison. “The more you can tolerate without needing a glove or a towel to block the heat, the more distinguished you could become,” Salaysay explains. “It’s kind of a sign that you’ve been there for a long time and this is sort of your way of life, your baptism.”

However “[Lifers] is the kitchen from the perspective of someone who doesn’t see that for themselves as their career,” Salaysay continues. For him, the processes of dish-washing and making films are similar — with long hours, very little pay, and mental and physical exhaustion. Because he loves telling stories and creating films, the pain is worthwhile in filmmaking. Salaysay refers to a Jerry Seinfeld quote: “Success is finding the torture that you are comfortable with.”

Salaysay is proud of his accomplishments. This is his first time working with a larger cast and he is very thankful to have had such a great team. “Everyone really wanted to give it their all and that was really helpful.”

For the immediate future, Salaysay aims to continue creating. He is currently working on a new web series, but hopes that this award will open the door to write and produce a feature film.

Lifers will screen at the Vancouver International Film Festival on September 30 and October 8. For more information, visit viff.org.

 

Fathers and sons share laughs and tears in Delivery

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So four guys walk into a comedy club . . . and end up making a hilarious and sentimental film about their attempts at performing stand up comedy. Mark Myers is about to become a father for the first time, but before his baby arrives, he sets out to accomplish two of his goals: make his own full-length film, and try stand up comedy. His three friends Sean Menard, Shane Cunningham, and 71-year old Bert Van Lierop accompany him on this journey.

The film’s title is a play on words, as it hinges on the delivery of a newborn baby, and the fact that in stand up comedy, the delivery of a set is what makes a comedian funny. Before starting this film project, Myers worked at Muchmusic, talking with musicians and working on reality TV shows.

He dreamed of making a movie before turning 30, and while he was unable to meet that deadline, he still invested all of his efforts into this project. The movie opens with Myers’ brother describing a dream he had about Myers’ film being called Deliver, and thus the seed for the film’s title is planted.

Despite the film’s premise as an exploration of the world of stand up comedy, there are many poignant moments as well. The many faces of fatherhood are explored, as Menard’s father is diagnosed with cancer just as Myers’ baby is about to enter the world. While it does deliver many laughs, the emotional moments in the film are just as important to the pacing of this unusual story.

“I have had people tell me that the film had an unexpected amount of heart,” Myers says, “ It made [them] laugh, cry, or even want to be a better dad.”

The documentary was filmed primarily in the Toronto area over the span of three months, with interview footage from the Just for Laughs Comedy Festival in Montreal constantly spliced into the movie. The crew was lucky enough to interview some famous comedians for this project, including greats such as Russell Peters and Bryan Callen. Several comedic sets are also featured in the film that are sure to elicit laughs from even the most stoic viewers.

Myers cites Steven Spielberg as an inspiration behind his production of the film, as he made it with a general audience in mind. “A lot of people can relate to the film,” Myers says. “There is no exact demographic [that it’s targeted to]. I just want to make people feel something.”

The candid narrative of Delivery paints an uplifting portrait about comedy and life. Cunningham is a charming yet socially awkward comedian, Van Lierop is downright hilarious, with many good stories to tell, and Menard’s final moments with his father are simply heartbreaking.

Finally, the passion that Myers has invested into this film really shines through, as he proclaims about his work and his stand up set, “I don’t want my kid to be proud of what I said, but rather to be proud of what I did.”

Judith Garay celebrates twenty years, twenty intersections, and twenty dancers

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Inspired by Vancouver, its intersections, and its people, 20.20.20 presented a new perspective of the city from September 24 to 27 at SFU Woodward’s. Judith Garay’s sharp, determined choreography was impressively performed by her company, Dancers Dancing.

The back page of the program declares that 20.20.20 is “inspired by interactions of architecture, pigeons, overpasses, green spaces, mountain views, skateboards, and . . . people young and old.” I could see elements of each of these influences throughout the piece, most notably the pigeons. At certain points, the dancers flocked in pigeon-like fashion, moving in a stylized way that clearly evoked birds. They also seemed to emulate flamingoes at one point, standing on one leg for an extended period of time.

The idea of the intersection was also a large focal point of this work; in the opening sequence, dancers crossed the stage in diagonal lines that intersected at centre stage. As they passed each other, they paused to smile or acknowledge each other, but this action quickly turned into indifference and avoidance. This feigned indifference evoked walking down a busy sidewalk and avoiding eye contact for fear of having to interact on any level with a stranger.

The stage was often full of dancers, forming many patterns and moving in an organized chaos, almost colliding but always knowing exactly when to switch directions. This aggressive, focused choreography was balanced with a few slow, calculated segments where one dancer held another up from behind, controlling their movements.

Wearing typical everyday Vancouver attire, the dancers also used air quotes profusely as if to signify that what they were doing was not the real thing, only representative of it. As they moved around the stage and flocked together in a large group, they performed many common gestures that one might be caught doing while waiting awkwardly — things like scratching your nose or pushing your hair behind your ears.

The hopeful ending was beautiful; the dancers slowly walked forward, pausing after each step, as they looked off into the distance while pink petals raining down on a golden lit stage. These dancers were focused, determined, and energetic, much like the bustling streets of Vancouver.

Life on the Pale Blue Dot

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My god... It's full of stars.
In the grand scheme of things, we are tiny and insignificant. But that's okay.

As you are reading this, you are currently hurtling through space on a remote chunk of rock, covered mostly in water and protected by a thin layer of atmosphere, at a speed of about 460 metres per second. This tiny chunk of rock, which we call Earth, is only a fraction of a much larger Solar System, which is also whirling around our Milky Way galaxy at about 220 kilometres per second. And it doesn’t stop there — our galaxy is also speeding through space, along with other nearby galaxies, at about 1,000 kilometres per second.

Just in case you forgot.

Those of us who aren’t science students usually don’t spend too much time contemplating the vastness of the universe, or the strange and wonderful ways in which it works; we leave it to the mathematicians, the astrophysicists, those who study in labs rather than libraries and with microscopes rather than Marlowe.

But in astronomy, the study of celestial bodies, there’s something valuable to be learned by everyone: a better understanding to be gained about what our real place in the universe is, and a healthy amount of perspective on just how important we really are (or aren’t).

Our universe is an enormous work of art, and we are only one pixel of that artwork.

As a latecomer to the study of astronomy, my biggest hurdles have been wrapping my head around how big everything is, how fast it all moves, and just how much of it there is. I’m sure this is a common problem for those who’re just learning about the nature of our universe — how there’s so much in existence that’s much too big or much too small for us to really comprehend.

Pop scientists like Brian Greene and Carl Sagan do their best  to translate these ideas with aphorisms and analogies, but the realization that we are only an infinitesimally tiny part of the universe is hard not to take personally. It’s the reason it took so long for our species to understand our Earth wasn’t at the centre of some grand, unified system — after all, how could we not be the centre of the universe? There will always be something comforting in the thought that we are special and unique, that there is nothing out there quite like us.

Of course, this couldn’t be further from the truth. We are surrounded by galaxies and moons and faraway planets so big and so small they defy comprehension. It’s highly unlikely that we’re the only planet to sustain life, and mathematically probable that some of these life forms bear resemblance to us. We have learned more about the universe in the past two centuries than the rest of human history combined and we still don’t know much about it.

As with most sciences, the study of astronomy is full of uncertainty; the unsolved mysteries of astronomy seem to only dwarf us further, to make humans seem even less meaningful. But my growing love of astronomy doesn’t make me feel small or insignificant. In fact, it’s taught me more about what my so called purpose on this Earth really is than most other things ever could.

I’ve never been a religious person — the idea of a higher power has never appealed to me. But in astronomy, in looking up at the stars and knowing that there are innumerable complex systems and designs that we still only partially understand, I feel the sense of humility and wonder that people describe when they think of God or other religious figures. The more I learn, the more fascinated I become.

For me, knowing more about the Earth’s place in the cosmos has helped me to understand how we, as humans, make our own meaning. We know what those living only a few centuries ago didn’t: that our universe is an enormous work of art, and that each of us amounts to about a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a pixel of that artwork.

But that doesn’t have to be a scary thought.

No one understood this better than Carl Sagan, whose genius for science was only matched by his generosity in sharing that knowledge with the world. In 1990, only a few years before his death, Sagan requested that the Voyager 1 space probe turn its camera back on the Earth from a distance of around six million kilometres — the now-famous image it took shows our planet as a tiny blue dot floating in the darkness of deep space.

“That’s here,” he wrote in his book Pale Blue Dot, named after the photo. “That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives.” In forcing us to take a look at ourselves from outside the context of our own world, with its own share of horror and beauty, he helped us to put ourselves in perspective.

“There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world,” he said. “To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”

Of all that astronomy has to teach us, this might be its most important lesson. Looking up into the night sky, it’s easy to forget that each tiny speck is another world, and that for every one light there are millions too dim or too far away to see. What we do on Earth isn’t made insignificant by the scope of what’s around us; if anything, our knowledge of what’s out there, however incomplete, is a testament to how far we’ve come, and how much further we’re capable of going.