IL GRIDO DEL SILENZIO AND THE CHARACTER WALKABOUT
A Critical Essay on the Actors Art in an Unreasonable Age
By Nick Mancuso
(THE SILENT SCREAM)
On a viewing of “letter one” by Tony Nardi
“Truth is a Lie”
Pablo Picasso
In respect of Character there are four things to be aimed at. First, and most important, it must be good. Now any speech or action that manifests moral purpose of any kind will be expressive of character: the character will be good if the purpose is good. This rule is relative to each class. Even a woman may be good, and also a slave; though the woman may be said to be an inferior being, and the slave quite worthless. The second thing to aim at is propriety. There is a type of manly valour; but valour in a woman, or unscrupulous cleverness, is inappropriate. Thirdly, character must be true to life: for this is a distinct thing from goodness and propriety, as here described. The fourth point is consistency: for though the subject of the imitation, who suggested the type, be inconsistent, still he must be consistently inconsistent.”
Aristotle-The Poetics
Last night I attended Letter One of Dora, Gemini, Genie Award winning, Tony Nardi’s ‘three letters’, a filmed presentation of the first of his extraordinary “3 letters “ theatre opus, which this actor has now performed for small audiences in variegating venues in Toronto and Montreal. It was quite an experience to be found on the edge of time, for this was theatre in its proper form, as originally intended. But beyond all that it was a “walkabout” of the “post-masonic distress disorder” of our current age, “l’etat des choses” in Canada. And elsewhere, in all the elsewhere’s of a planet steeped in numbness and terror. It was and remains in my mind as an event, the pure distilled waters of the essence of the actor’s art.
What I witnessed was an astounding and dizzyingly disturbing work of theatrical art, perhaps the single most important statement on the nature of acting and the theatre I have ever witnessed. Mr. Nardi presents the hateful truth, the truth as a lie, but it is the truth.
I have now seen this work almost 40 times, over a 2-year period, perhaps more. It has been a tortured and painful process. And it’s been worth it. Like a caustic purgative for the soul. For it is an alchemical and transformative “dissolutio”, only the transformation here is not lead to gold but lead-to-lead. And Letter One, made me feel in spite of my age and many years of experience in the theatre and film, like that middle aged French woman who upon hearing and witnessing the premiere of Ravel’s Bolero in Paris, at the turn of the last century, screamed out at the end of this now legendary piece “My God! This man is mad!” At the premier of the orchestral piece with its endlessly building repetition fully half the audience walked out. In spite of the opportunity to bolt, I could not bolt and every opportunity I had to see it, I went.
“3 Letters” is theatrical truth, disguised as a lie, disguised as the truth. And it is perfect witness to an original Canadian artform, meaning that it remains unwitnessed, reviled, forgotten before it is remembered, and perfect as gold.
At Mr. Nardi’s “opening” 5 people came to the “Instituto Culturale”, in Toronto, Canada, where the “walkout walkabout” had already occurred. Nonetheless as a brilliant unrecognized modern “tragedy.” of the Canadian variety, which is to say that it is tragedy, disguised as a comedy, disguised as commedia, disguised as reality TV disguised as news commentary, disguised as a stock report, disguised as a Mac Pro Book, which sits in front of Mr. Nardi like a technological talking Cyclops, disguised as performance art, it is “no theatre”, no set, no costume, no dialogue, no plot, no action. It is a play that is self-referential and curves into itself, like a snake eating its own tail. It is theatre of the “bone”, an actor all-alone. And it is perfectly unending, on a feedback loop. And perfect autopoetic expressions of the ethos of the Canadian experience, sitting on a pre-Cambrian shield of mossy laughter, like an ingrown toenail. Universal and utterly solipsistic.
After the laughs occur in the show, there is silence, the silence that follows an emptied screen, the silence that follows a gulping void, and there are so many silent laughs that one wonders why one has not left already, anticipating the end. This work of theatrical creativity is in effect a silent scream, a black and white rendition of the art of “character” in vacuo.
“… Character must be true to life: for this is a distinct thing from goodness and propriety, as here described.”
Aristotle
The mind shuts down here assuming a fetal position, or else enters a mental bomb shelter, in order not to see through the smoke and haze, through the fires of perdition and the aftermath of an attack on the psyche. No wonder it is hated by some, and loved by others because this opus clearly separates the theatrical sheep from the critical goats. And there are too many sheep and far too many goats.
And for such “goats”, it must appear as a vivid green of embarrassment, put up on a screen, inducing shame and silence, like a Charlie Chaplin film played by Nosferatu- “ a silent scream” on a bridge to perdition, for ears yet unborn and audiences yet to come. For the anorexic theatrical sheep there is plenty to graze on, though the critics assume not. It’s a joke for the taking, where the set up is the punch-line.
It’s not a pretty picture, anymore than Picasso’s “Les Demoiselle D’Avignon” is a pretty picture. And it rankles.
In fact it is an ugly picture. It is an ugly picture of an ugly age. How can it not be? Guernica is around the corner. The news is not good.. Not for the actors who have been “pogromed” into becoming sacrificial character lambs on the altar of Canadian national identity, immigration, and pretend multi- culturalism in what is a lobotomized, bi-cultural pretend state of the mind. Not for the audiences who pretend to be awake.
Mr. Nardi however pretends at nothing, and therefore swims against the current. For this he is punished in the papers, both English and French for he holds a moral gun to the collective unconscious. And For this he is called “hateful.”
In respect of Character there are four things to be aimed at. First, and most important, it must be good.
Aristotle
Tony Nardi asks one simple question. What is the nature of acting in Canada and why has the cult of mediocrity become the passport for entrance unto the stage? He also asks that those who are taking passports to Canadian national theatre and culture to bring out their identity papers and point of origin. It’s a tough moral stance to take for a nation that still defines itself in terms of mock British accents on the official stages of Stratford and the Shaw Festival. Or for that matter almost any of the regional and city theatres of Canada.
And, while offering warm gloves and soup he demands they become aware that they click their heels when they walk. Some Canadian critics are insulted, others mesmerized, still other fill up with contempt. For he points out that if you are in a parking lot at night in front of a firing squad of pretend bullets, as in the Quebec film, Michel Brault’s, “les ordres” it is your duty to at least acknowledge the reality regardless of how unhopeful as that reality might be. And that the power to shut down a theatre movement can occur before the box office opens. Some critics whose job it is to take offence at such shenanigans are offended. Most prefer children’s theatre of the most “cheerful “ variety. Modern Campanella’s of Calabrian born origins seem not to be tolerated. Clearly.
Canadian critics, as a whole, seem to think that their job is to “act” as gatekeepers of the unagreed collective unconscious. To tell the sheep what the goats want. And to enforce the dicta of the shut-down, and the shut up walk-out. Mr. Nardi refuses to shut up or leave or obey. There is a moral purpose in operation. And he makes his case well. But the critics accuse him of that greatest of Canadian crime, -excellence.
“Now any speech or action that manifests moral purpose of any kind will be expressive of character: the character will be good if the purpose is good.”
Aristotle
THE POSTCARD THEATRE
The “3 letters” experience is funny and twisted, earnest and mind –provoking, tragic and clown-like, and engages the imagination of the audience. And as it does this, it runs itself into a powerful gauntlet of collective resistance. From everyone it seems except the audience who watches and listens, the people attending are rapt. And what is the nature of this resistance?
And, while it seems obvious that it should have been packed by every actor/playwright/artist of the nation, it wasn’t.
In fact, in my viewings of the work, it seemed like every actor, stayed away in droves, thereby ensuring that the sealed lead coffin that Mr. Nardi uses as central metaphor for the deadly theatre of the country, remains sealed and its central metaphor of the theatre as postcard culture- true.
Critical resistance jumps in quickly and enthusiastically begins to pound nails into the door of the non existent “green room” prepared for Mr. Nardi, only to discover that like a sleight of hand done by a master magician, the assistant handing the nails is the dramatist himself. And if any of this had any real significance in the country of Canada Mr. Nardi’s performance would be a kooky outrage. But critical resistance labels Mr. Nardi, identifies and fingerprints him as “hateful” and ignores its mastery.
Jean Genet the great French dramatist and novelist and prisoner once wrote; “You are telling me he truth, are you not, ma cherie? After all, -If your not real thief, then I’m not a real judge..”Genet was liberated from his prison by the great existentialist writer and thinker Jean Paul Satre. Who will liberate Mr. Nardi when there is not even an acknowledgment that what he writes about is true? Since there is no dialectic or “template” against which to compare this work, how can the Academics and Critics argue for or against? This is raw uninvited theatre at its best. And it points out what everyone in the nation refuses to acknowledge-the Canadian theatre establishment is an extension of the unspoken, and the unfelt. And it is a “lie.”
But “the 3 letters” are more than just “moral” in the Aristotelian sense, more than just “postcard theatre” since the material used for the creation of this utterly original work, is made from fissionable and toxic stuff. It is in a sense “object trouve”, found art. But it also a traffic signal, a semiotic sign, a symbol of our times. Mr.Nardi tells us that the Gulag is already here. Canadian” cultural officers” don’t like this sort of thing because they do not think of themselves as officers, anymore than the critics think of themselves as critics.
Mr. Nardi does not believe that the Corpo- Stalinist lie is true. And if it is not after all” cheery cherry pie” then what exactly is it? I am reminded of the old joke about a man who steps on shit. If it is smells, feels and tastes like shit it many very well be shit.
This rule is relative to each class.
Aristotle
“Ethics are not about good intensions..”
John Ralston Saul
“On Equilibrium”
Canadians are a classless society and like the Soviet Union free of prejudice. All Canadians are equal, with some being a little more equal than others. It’s a free society where free speech and the artists right to express himself is a given. There is no censorship and no prejudice or racism, spoken and unspoken. It is Utopia and all is well. The minorities and their point of views are given free reign, are they not? The theatre is free of restrictions. And it is funded by Canadians.
And Canada is known worldwide for its Inuit Art and Stephen Leacock and Glen Gould. And for its many Hollywood actors, screenwriters, directors, producers. People like James Cameron, Keanu Reeves, Sam Goldwyn, Mary Pickford, Jim Carrey, so many…
“3 Letters” had its inception when Tony Nardi was blackmailed by a well-known Toronto casting director into auditioning for a role, a Canadian Italian he found demeaning in its portrayal. The casting director threatened the agency that represented him; stating that, if Mr. Nardi would not come in he would “blacklist” the agency, with its many clients. The head of the agency pleaded with Mr. Nardi to take the meeting, rather than charge the insane casting director. Mr.Nardi refused to go in and left the agency. The agency was taken off the hook, freed of the threat. Mr. Nardi began 3 letters few years later.
When prisoners of the Stalinist horror, were presented for inspection to the great writer Gogol, who were not allowed to speak to him, held their newspapers upside down as a warning and a signaling that things were not what they appeared to be in the “new paradise” of the Soviet Union.
And that we are to read our newspapers, right side up, at our own risk.
Mr. Nardi paints what may well be the perfect portrait of The life of the Postcard Theatre in The Age of Canadian Culture- Governmentalism, Anno Domini 2010,in the years of the usurping Beaurocrat,the official as “artist”, in this the time of the “post-Masonic distress disorder” in which the label creative is now the domain of banker and insurance broker.Creativity has been usurped by the new bankers of fame and by the children of the rich and powerful and the corporate logo-ethos.Disorder and Chaos, in the cultural DNA of the nation.
The truth has become a lie and more importantly the lie is now the new truth. What is Tony Nardi’s crime?
One wonders what kind of official theatre was created in the concentration camp. And images of the grave, premature burial, and the Gulag are the metaphors used.
Why should anyone in Canada care about any of it really, when there can’t be a genuine authenticity by definition? Culture does not fill the belly. Or create a sense of personal identity. Why fill the belly with words, images, thoughts, aspirations? We already have Hollywood. Culture in Canada exists as an afterthought.
In Canada the Postcard Theatre of Death& Numbness, has been created, bought by tax dollars and the Theatre of Cruelty, and Criticism, referred to by the prophetic luminary of the stage Antonin Artaud. It has been tortured and buried alive.
Perhaps Mr. Artaud was perhaps thinking of Toronto, Canada 2010 from his loft in Montparnasse in the Paris of the late 20’s. And the reasons for this are as clear as dark daylight as outlined by the furious tap-dancing and drumming by Mr. Nardi.He dances to and drums upon, the skein and thin skins of our collective unconsciousness, emotional –less valences, uselessness…and the hidden and unhidden influences of threat and violence to our artists, to our children, aboriginals and immigrants. Why should we feel anything or create? Why is indifference not the ultimate form of censorship? And why should the artist, any artist be indifferent to that truth or fail to recognize it?
And why should the truth not be a lie? After all Paris Hilton is now an actress and Donald Trump a leading man. And “The Soprano’s” are the perfect expression of Italic culture in North America and the world. To say nothing of the rest of the Reality TV detritus that passes for “entertainment.” Where is the moral purpose and valor in all this? And if “catharsis” were to truly occur on the stages of the nation what would be purged and brought forth?
“Ethics on its own is a justification for almost anything…truth is whatever serves your cause..” J.R.Saul
On Equilibrium
Letter One tells a story that those in power have much power and no one to answer to and that the collective unconscious remains unfazed and untouched.
Since a nation by definition is its culture and it memory, if it has none, then it is insane and the only logical response is the creation of a “3 Letters”- a sane vision of an insane and immoral truth
. The “3 letters” is an attempt at memory revealed. It points out that the cultural policies in place in Canada are “iatrogenic” a diseased condition created by the very medicines they are supposed to cure. Almost half of all admissions to Emergency in modern hospitals are caused by the very medications that are given for treatment. Here is then the absurdist and cubist notion of looking for the essence of things, not what they are- but what they could be-here is “Les Demoiselles” all dressed up with no where to go.
Artists, in Canada like reservation Indians, traditionally, (and history bears this out), are gummed and starved to death and relegated to the stockades by wannabees and a system of arrogance, stupidity, venal cheerfulness and enthusiasm, with a farted whiff of criminal intent. Only the beaurocracy of art survives here, like the fossilized imprint of a long gone creature of myth; not the artist, the idea, the word, not the man. Not the creator. The frame, not the painting. The image of the image, of the artist – not the artist. The critic, and not the creator.
“What does it mean once a battle starts? Suddenly all overriding structure disappears. If he (the general, also the artist) has only these qualities-the qualities of professionalism- he will be thrown into a reactive mode…it is from imagining the whole that (he) must decide and act. This action is not rational. It is beyond common sense, free of memory”
John Ralston Saul
On Equilibrium
What Mr. Saul writes about in relation to warfare is equally applicable to the warfare of theatre and the actor’s art. And while professionalism is the operative word in the Canadian theatre, and its companies more concerned with the actors tardiness than the full reality of performance-there is an unspoken agreement, that the actor has never been asked to agree to. It is understood that he is to obey orders from above. It is presented to him as a treaty, a duty, an obligation on his part and no reciprocity on the part of the director and the producing entity. Any action, which moves away from this central unspoken stance, is to be regarded as a betrayal, an act of treason. The actor is not free to act.
No treaty with the Indian nations of Canada has ever been honored to its core. And no Canadian artist has ever been genuinely appreciated and encouraged and nourished by the system, except ex-tempora and ex-loco. The artist cannot create.
In “Letter One “ of “the letters” Mr. Nardi performs a skillful autopsy on the corpse of the Canadian actor and then is accused of having murdered the actor, for doing so. He sits sketching the outlines of a massacre and is then tried for the treason of having it sketched it at all, albeit well and accurately.
Criticism in Canada is a, a socially engineered nightmare created for the careless, a childcare of old-age nursery homes of verbal misery and despair, and it is cynical, ignorant, uncaring, harsh, menacing, and beaurocratic to the letter of the law. And mediocre. It sits on the drooping shoulders of Academia and oligarchic Governmentally .It holds no dialectic either with itself or the artists, especially the living artists. It sees neither figure nor ground and seems proud of its one-eyed blindness. It examines the line and not the painting. The form and not the purpose. Limits, not intuition. And it will not tolerate criticism of its criticism. It holds no value to the Aristotelian ideals of good intention and purpose, moral purpose, consistency or “manly valor.” In short it behaves like an out of control drunk on the streets of Toronto.
“ Now any speech or action that manifests moral purpose of any kind will be expressive of character: the character will be good if the purpose is good.”
Aristotle
The Poetics
A LETTER BY TONY NARDI
“If my stating that Kelly Nestruck listing The Sopranos among his favourite TV shows on his Facebook page is dishonest on my part and weakens my argument (due to where I obtained the information and its ‘irrelevance’ to Nestruck’s critical view of Letter Three) I will accept responsibility for failing to elaborate on the point.
First: My citing open-to-the-public information from Nestruck’s Facebook page is not quoting personal information he had intended to keep private. One posts viewable information on Facebook to publicly state one’s views, likes and dislikes. It’s there for all to see, otherwise only his Facebook friends would have access to the information.
Secondly: The Sopranos’ reference is very relevant to Nestruck’s limited “review” of Letter Three and any notion that he stayed within professional (critical analysis) boundaries. Nestruck reported untruths in English Canada’s national newspaper. The Sopranos ‘revelation’ uncovers one of his untruths: his apparent problem with the “bile, profanity and violence” in Letter Three and theatrical (dramatic) works in general.
Third point: Nestruck crossed the line a few times, mainly framing his piece within a cultural (tribal) context, implying that the Calabrian-born Nardi cannot possibly speak for the cheery-thirsty English-Canadian theatregoers and theatre practitioners, that dwindling ‘majority’ that presumably (and too often) sets the cultural standard for all the other ‘secondary’ tribes. He attempted to draw the lines for English-Canada’s theatre, defining what it should be and who qualifies to represent it and speak on its behalf.
TONY NARDI
THE ACTOR AS DIS-LOCATION
Law and Art normally don’t mix but in Canada they are forced to become bedfellows. When the audiences are told, by imprisoned performer/slaves on how to behave and what they are supposed to be like in order to be an audience-and not be like-and the actor-artists of the nation don’t stand a prayer or a chance for an expressive liberation of truth, then the audiences” are forced to “act.”. Standing ovations for the mediocre and the more mediocre, the better. And when Mr. Nardi points this out in his writings, the critics are outraged, or addled, or contemptuously dismissive. And worse.
And the audiences play along with the charade, in a stilted British accent. All 240 nations, all 3000 tribes this is the throne speech theme of “the letters.” In the words and mouth of the dislocated actor/immigrant to whom Mr. Nardi has given voice to. They are written not to the imaginary “Sarah” but to all the real Sarahs within us, all the lost Sarahs who have lost their languages, their cultures, their memories and their history and who speak in private, broken tongues, whose voices can not be heard, whose muffled and strangled cries are forever silenced. This is the celebration of the Canadian theatre. Of the Bacchantes of our Time.
FROM THE GLOBE&MAIL, NATIONAL NEWSPAPER OF CANADA
By Kelly Nestruck
Tony Nardi, a Dora- and Genie-winning actor born in Calabria and raised in Montreal, wants to blow up English-Canadian theatre as well. Also presented as part of the FTA, … And Counting (Letter Three) is his suicide bombing of “the amateur theatre we call professional” that “patronizes patrons.” In it, Nardi compares the health of Canadian culture in general to a person who has been buried alive and is eating parts of himself while awaiting a rescue that might never come.
Nardi has previously espoused a similarly cheery outlook in two previous Letters, the first of which he wrote after being offered an insulting Italian-Canadian role on a TV series, the second being a rant against a commedia dell’arte production he loathed and two Toronto critics (including one from The Globe and Mail) who praised it.
… And Counting (Letter Three) is a post-mortem of sorts, inspired by his frustration trying to get funding for the first two letters. In a rant full of literary allusions and profanity that he reads off a laptop in a volcanic, near-violent performance, the gifted actor asks many provocative questions. Is it better to be an artist in Canada or to work for an arts council? Are the most successful artists in Canada really the most successful grant writers? Are the skills required to write a good grant application actually the opposite of what you need to be a good artist?
Nardi raises important points, then buries them in bile. Everyone he encounters in the “letter” – journalists, bureaucrats, artists who work within the system, community leaders, audience members – are painted as ignorant, self-serving, mealy-mouthed or some combination thereof. He, on the other hand, is the only intelligent guy in this world, the only true artist.
… And Counting (Letter Three) is also often inaccurate and frequently contradictory. For example, at one point, he berates this newspaper for not covering the Genies (not true), while at the same suggesting that there is nothing at the Genies worth covering (so why should we?).
Is Nardi playing an exaggeration of himself in this rambling rant?
In a Q&A afterward, he seemed calmer, more interested in discussion. If his intention is to provoke, it works – I had to restrain myself from heckling or walking out.
Ultimately, for me, this non-play completely backfired. And I doubt I’m the only one who thought, well, if the arts councils refused funding to Nardi’s self-righteous, hateful two-and-half-hour diatribe then maybe they’re not so screwed up after all. “
Kelly Nestruck
Canadian Critic
“ … And Counting (Letter Three) is a post-mortem of sorts, inspired by his frustration trying to get funding…”
For anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear its quite clear to anyone who has all 3 letters that they clearly are not inspired by Mr Nardi’s frustration to get grants for his works, which he financed himself. The fact that he has not received a dime from Government sources and has found only one “angel”- Mr. Rocco Galati, one of Canada’s top constitutional lawyers, and this on the basis of the thematic artistry of his works should say something about the work and Mr.Nardi’s uncanny determination over an almost 4 year period to write, perform and film it.
But for those who have eyes to hear and ears to see it perplexes, frustrates and creates the volcanic rant which Mr. Nestruck and other critics of his ilk reported. Like many other small minded and guilty Claudius’s they too began to scream out “Lights, Lights” And its an old pattern in Toronto and elsewhere in Canada, especially with Globe&Mail, the bastion of Anglo Culture in a now multi-cultural nation. Is this racism? Is the pope Catholic? There is hardly one statement in the G&B review that is accurate. There is hardly one sentence in the co-called review which addresses the reality and artistry of the 3 letters. Not for naught that for over a 35 year period in a bizarre twist of onomatopeiac casuistry the papers has hired critics with names like Base, Mallet, Ne-struck, Whit-aker-as though unconsciously or perhaps consciously assaulting the artists of the nation and needing hatchet men to perform the task. How dare you speak Mr. Nardi? How dare you? Be quiet!!!
“If not central to our daily life, ethics is nothing..”
JRS- ON EQUILIBRIUM
But Mr. Nardi, will not remain quiet and dares and more
And it is precisely this light that Mr. Nardi is trying to shed on this shameful situation. The Actor/Artist in Canada is screwed. He has been silenced and his scream is silent.
END PART ONE
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3 Jan
On a viewing of Tony Nardi’s “3 letters” in Toronto, Canada
Posted January 3, 2011 by Nick Mancuso in General thoughts and comments, tv and theatre reviews. Leave a Comment
IL GRIDO DEL SILENZIO AND THE CHARACTER WALKABOUT
A Critical Essay on the Actors Art in an Unreasonable Age
By Nick Mancuso
(THE SILENT SCREAM)
On a viewing of “letter one” by Tony Nardi
“Truth is a Lie”
Pablo Picasso
In respect of Character there are four things to be aimed at. First, and most important, it must be good. Now any speech or action that manifests moral purpose of any kind will be expressive of character: the character will be good if the purpose is good. This rule is relative to each class. Even a woman may be good, and also a slave; though the woman may be said to be an inferior being, and the slave quite worthless. The second thing to aim at is propriety. There is a type of manly valour; but valour in a woman, or unscrupulous cleverness, is inappropriate. Thirdly, character must be true to life: for this is a distinct thing from goodness and propriety, as here described. The fourth point is consistency: for though the subject of the imitation, who suggested the type, be inconsistent, still he must be consistently inconsistent.”
Aristotle-The Poetics
Last night I attended Letter One of Dora, Gemini, Genie Award winning, Tony Nardi’s ‘three letters’, a filmed presentation of the first of his extraordinary “3 letters “ theatre opus, which this actor has now performed for small audiences in variegating venues in Toronto and Montreal. It was quite an experience to be found on the edge of time, for this was theatre in its proper form, as originally intended. But beyond all that it was a “walkabout” of the “post-masonic distress disorder” of our current age, “l’etat des choses” in Canada. And elsewhere, in all the elsewhere’s of a planet steeped in numbness and terror. It was and remains in my mind as an event, the pure distilled waters of the essence of the actor’s art.
What I witnessed was an astounding and dizzyingly disturbing work of theatrical art, perhaps the single most important statement on the nature of acting and the theatre I have ever witnessed. Mr. Nardi presents the hateful truth, the truth as a lie, but it is the truth.
I have now seen this work almost 40 times, over a 2-year period, perhaps more. It has been a tortured and painful process. And it’s been worth it. Like a caustic purgative for the soul. For it is an alchemical and transformative “dissolutio”, only the transformation here is not lead to gold but lead-to-lead. And Letter One, made me feel in spite of my age and many years of experience in the theatre and film, like that middle aged French woman who upon hearing and witnessing the premiere of Ravel’s Bolero in Paris, at the turn of the last century, screamed out at the end of this now legendary piece “My God! This man is mad!” At the premier of the orchestral piece with its endlessly building repetition fully half the audience walked out. In spite of the opportunity to bolt, I could not bolt and every opportunity I had to see it, I went.
“3 Letters” is theatrical truth, disguised as a lie, disguised as the truth. And it is perfect witness to an original Canadian artform, meaning that it remains unwitnessed, reviled, forgotten before it is remembered, and perfect as gold.
At Mr. Nardi’s “opening” 5 people came to the “Instituto Culturale”, in Toronto, Canada, where the “walkout walkabout” had already occurred. Nonetheless as a brilliant unrecognized modern “tragedy.” of the Canadian variety, which is to say that it is tragedy, disguised as a comedy, disguised as commedia, disguised as reality TV disguised as news commentary, disguised as a stock report, disguised as a Mac Pro Book, which sits in front of Mr. Nardi like a technological talking Cyclops, disguised as performance art, it is “no theatre”, no set, no costume, no dialogue, no plot, no action. It is a play that is self-referential and curves into itself, like a snake eating its own tail. It is theatre of the “bone”, an actor all-alone. And it is perfectly unending, on a feedback loop. And perfect autopoetic expressions of the ethos of the Canadian experience, sitting on a pre-Cambrian shield of mossy laughter, like an ingrown toenail. Universal and utterly solipsistic.
After the laughs occur in the show, there is silence, the silence that follows an emptied screen, the silence that follows a gulping void, and there are so many silent laughs that one wonders why one has not left already, anticipating the end. This work of theatrical creativity is in effect a silent scream, a black and white rendition of the art of “character” in vacuo.
“… Character must be true to life: for this is a distinct thing from goodness and propriety, as here described.”
Aristotle
The mind shuts down here assuming a fetal position, or else enters a mental bomb shelter, in order not to see through the smoke and haze, through the fires of perdition and the aftermath of an attack on the psyche. No wonder it is hated by some, and loved by others because this opus clearly separates the theatrical sheep from the critical goats. And there are too many sheep and far too many goats.
And for such “goats”, it must appear as a vivid green of embarrassment, put up on a screen, inducing shame and silence, like a Charlie Chaplin film played by Nosferatu- “ a silent scream” on a bridge to perdition, for ears yet unborn and audiences yet to come. For the anorexic theatrical sheep there is plenty to graze on, though the critics assume not. It’s a joke for the taking, where the set up is the punch-line.
It’s not a pretty picture, anymore than Picasso’s “Les Demoiselle D’Avignon” is a pretty picture. And it rankles.
In fact it is an ugly picture. It is an ugly picture of an ugly age. How can it not be? Guernica is around the corner. The news is not good.. Not for the actors who have been “pogromed” into becoming sacrificial character lambs on the altar of Canadian national identity, immigration, and pretend multi- culturalism in what is a lobotomized, bi-cultural pretend state of the mind. Not for the audiences who pretend to be awake.
Mr. Nardi however pretends at nothing, and therefore swims against the current. For this he is punished in the papers, both English and French for he holds a moral gun to the collective unconscious. And For this he is called “hateful.”
In respect of Character there are four things to be aimed at. First, and most important, it must be good.
Aristotle
Tony Nardi asks one simple question. What is the nature of acting in Canada and why has the cult of mediocrity become the passport for entrance unto the stage? He also asks that those who are taking passports to Canadian national theatre and culture to bring out their identity papers and point of origin. It’s a tough moral stance to take for a nation that still defines itself in terms of mock British accents on the official stages of Stratford and the Shaw Festival. Or for that matter almost any of the regional and city theatres of Canada.
And, while offering warm gloves and soup he demands they become aware that they click their heels when they walk. Some Canadian critics are insulted, others mesmerized, still other fill up with contempt. For he points out that if you are in a parking lot at night in front of a firing squad of pretend bullets, as in the Quebec film, Michel Brault’s, “les ordres” it is your duty to at least acknowledge the reality regardless of how unhopeful as that reality might be. And that the power to shut down a theatre movement can occur before the box office opens. Some critics whose job it is to take offence at such shenanigans are offended. Most prefer children’s theatre of the most “cheerful “ variety. Modern Campanella’s of Calabrian born origins seem not to be tolerated. Clearly.
Canadian critics, as a whole, seem to think that their job is to “act” as gatekeepers of the unagreed collective unconscious. To tell the sheep what the goats want. And to enforce the dicta of the shut-down, and the shut up walk-out. Mr. Nardi refuses to shut up or leave or obey. There is a moral purpose in operation. And he makes his case well. But the critics accuse him of that greatest of Canadian crime, -excellence.
“Now any speech or action that manifests moral purpose of any kind will be expressive of character: the character will be good if the purpose is good.”
Aristotle
THE POSTCARD THEATRE
The “3 letters” experience is funny and twisted, earnest and mind –provoking, tragic and clown-like, and engages the imagination of the audience. And as it does this, it runs itself into a powerful gauntlet of collective resistance. From everyone it seems except the audience who watches and listens, the people attending are rapt. And what is the nature of this resistance?
And, while it seems obvious that it should have been packed by every actor/playwright/artist of the nation, it wasn’t.
In fact, in my viewings of the work, it seemed like every actor, stayed away in droves, thereby ensuring that the sealed lead coffin that Mr. Nardi uses as central metaphor for the deadly theatre of the country, remains sealed and its central metaphor of the theatre as postcard culture- true.
Critical resistance jumps in quickly and enthusiastically begins to pound nails into the door of the non existent “green room” prepared for Mr. Nardi, only to discover that like a sleight of hand done by a master magician, the assistant handing the nails is the dramatist himself. And if any of this had any real significance in the country of Canada Mr. Nardi’s performance would be a kooky outrage. But critical resistance labels Mr. Nardi, identifies and fingerprints him as “hateful” and ignores its mastery.
Jean Genet the great French dramatist and novelist and prisoner once wrote; “You are telling me he truth, are you not, ma cherie? After all, -If your not real thief, then I’m not a real judge..”Genet was liberated from his prison by the great existentialist writer and thinker Jean Paul Satre. Who will liberate Mr. Nardi when there is not even an acknowledgment that what he writes about is true? Since there is no dialectic or “template” against which to compare this work, how can the Academics and Critics argue for or against? This is raw uninvited theatre at its best. And it points out what everyone in the nation refuses to acknowledge-the Canadian theatre establishment is an extension of the unspoken, and the unfelt. And it is a “lie.”
But “the 3 letters” are more than just “moral” in the Aristotelian sense, more than just “postcard theatre” since the material used for the creation of this utterly original work, is made from fissionable and toxic stuff. It is in a sense “object trouve”, found art. But it also a traffic signal, a semiotic sign, a symbol of our times. Mr.Nardi tells us that the Gulag is already here. Canadian” cultural officers” don’t like this sort of thing because they do not think of themselves as officers, anymore than the critics think of themselves as critics.
Mr. Nardi does not believe that the Corpo- Stalinist lie is true. And if it is not after all” cheery cherry pie” then what exactly is it? I am reminded of the old joke about a man who steps on shit. If it is smells, feels and tastes like shit it many very well be shit.
This rule is relative to each class.
Aristotle
“Ethics are not about good intensions..”
John Ralston Saul
“On Equilibrium”
Canadians are a classless society and like the Soviet Union free of prejudice. All Canadians are equal, with some being a little more equal than others. It’s a free society where free speech and the artists right to express himself is a given. There is no censorship and no prejudice or racism, spoken and unspoken. It is Utopia and all is well. The minorities and their point of views are given free reign, are they not? The theatre is free of restrictions. And it is funded by Canadians.
And Canada is known worldwide for its Inuit Art and Stephen Leacock and Glen Gould. And for its many Hollywood actors, screenwriters, directors, producers. People like James Cameron, Keanu Reeves, Sam Goldwyn, Mary Pickford, Jim Carrey, so many…
“3 Letters” had its inception when Tony Nardi was blackmailed by a well-known Toronto casting director into auditioning for a role, a Canadian Italian he found demeaning in its portrayal. The casting director threatened the agency that represented him; stating that, if Mr. Nardi would not come in he would “blacklist” the agency, with its many clients. The head of the agency pleaded with Mr. Nardi to take the meeting, rather than charge the insane casting director. Mr.Nardi refused to go in and left the agency. The agency was taken off the hook, freed of the threat. Mr. Nardi began 3 letters few years later.
When prisoners of the Stalinist horror, were presented for inspection to the great writer Gogol, who were not allowed to speak to him, held their newspapers upside down as a warning and a signaling that things were not what they appeared to be in the “new paradise” of the Soviet Union.
And that we are to read our newspapers, right side up, at our own risk.
Mr. Nardi paints what may well be the perfect portrait of The life of the Postcard Theatre in The Age of Canadian Culture- Governmentalism, Anno Domini 2010,in the years of the usurping Beaurocrat,the official as “artist”, in this the time of the “post-Masonic distress disorder” in which the label creative is now the domain of banker and insurance broker.Creativity has been usurped by the new bankers of fame and by the children of the rich and powerful and the corporate logo-ethos.Disorder and Chaos, in the cultural DNA of the nation.
The truth has become a lie and more importantly the lie is now the new truth. What is Tony Nardi’s crime?
One wonders what kind of official theatre was created in the concentration camp. And images of the grave, premature burial, and the Gulag are the metaphors used.
Why should anyone in Canada care about any of it really, when there can’t be a genuine authenticity by definition? Culture does not fill the belly. Or create a sense of personal identity. Why fill the belly with words, images, thoughts, aspirations? We already have Hollywood. Culture in Canada exists as an afterthought.
In Canada the Postcard Theatre of Death& Numbness, has been created, bought by tax dollars and the Theatre of Cruelty, and Criticism, referred to by the prophetic luminary of the stage Antonin Artaud. It has been tortured and buried alive.
Perhaps Mr. Artaud was perhaps thinking of Toronto, Canada 2010 from his loft in Montparnasse in the Paris of the late 20’s. And the reasons for this are as clear as dark daylight as outlined by the furious tap-dancing and drumming by Mr. Nardi.He dances to and drums upon, the skein and thin skins of our collective unconsciousness, emotional –less valences, uselessness…and the hidden and unhidden influences of threat and violence to our artists, to our children, aboriginals and immigrants. Why should we feel anything or create? Why is indifference not the ultimate form of censorship? And why should the artist, any artist be indifferent to that truth or fail to recognize it?
And why should the truth not be a lie? After all Paris Hilton is now an actress and Donald Trump a leading man. And “The Soprano’s” are the perfect expression of Italic culture in North America and the world. To say nothing of the rest of the Reality TV detritus that passes for “entertainment.” Where is the moral purpose and valor in all this? And if “catharsis” were to truly occur on the stages of the nation what would be purged and brought forth?
“Ethics on its own is a justification for almost anything…truth is whatever serves your cause..” J.R.Saul
On Equilibrium
Letter One tells a story that those in power have much power and no one to answer to and that the collective unconscious remains unfazed and untouched.
Since a nation by definition is its culture and it memory, if it has none, then it is insane and the only logical response is the creation of a “3 Letters”- a sane vision of an insane and immoral truth
. The “3 letters” is an attempt at memory revealed. It points out that the cultural policies in place in Canada are “iatrogenic” a diseased condition created by the very medicines they are supposed to cure. Almost half of all admissions to Emergency in modern hospitals are caused by the very medications that are given for treatment. Here is then the absurdist and cubist notion of looking for the essence of things, not what they are- but what they could be-here is “Les Demoiselles” all dressed up with no where to go.
Artists, in Canada like reservation Indians, traditionally, (and history bears this out), are gummed and starved to death and relegated to the stockades by wannabees and a system of arrogance, stupidity, venal cheerfulness and enthusiasm, with a farted whiff of criminal intent. Only the beaurocracy of art survives here, like the fossilized imprint of a long gone creature of myth; not the artist, the idea, the word, not the man. Not the creator. The frame, not the painting. The image of the image, of the artist – not the artist. The critic, and not the creator.
“What does it mean once a battle starts? Suddenly all overriding structure disappears. If he (the general, also the artist) has only these qualities-the qualities of professionalism- he will be thrown into a reactive mode…it is from imagining the whole that (he) must decide and act. This action is not rational. It is beyond common sense, free of memory”
John Ralston Saul
On Equilibrium
What Mr. Saul writes about in relation to warfare is equally applicable to the warfare of theatre and the actor’s art. And while professionalism is the operative word in the Canadian theatre, and its companies more concerned with the actors tardiness than the full reality of performance-there is an unspoken agreement, that the actor has never been asked to agree to. It is understood that he is to obey orders from above. It is presented to him as a treaty, a duty, an obligation on his part and no reciprocity on the part of the director and the producing entity. Any action, which moves away from this central unspoken stance, is to be regarded as a betrayal, an act of treason. The actor is not free to act.
No treaty with the Indian nations of Canada has ever been honored to its core. And no Canadian artist has ever been genuinely appreciated and encouraged and nourished by the system, except ex-tempora and ex-loco. The artist cannot create.
In “Letter One “ of “the letters” Mr. Nardi performs a skillful autopsy on the corpse of the Canadian actor and then is accused of having murdered the actor, for doing so. He sits sketching the outlines of a massacre and is then tried for the treason of having it sketched it at all, albeit well and accurately.
Criticism in Canada is a, a socially engineered nightmare created for the careless, a childcare of old-age nursery homes of verbal misery and despair, and it is cynical, ignorant, uncaring, harsh, menacing, and beaurocratic to the letter of the law. And mediocre. It sits on the drooping shoulders of Academia and oligarchic Governmentally .It holds no dialectic either with itself or the artists, especially the living artists. It sees neither figure nor ground and seems proud of its one-eyed blindness. It examines the line and not the painting. The form and not the purpose. Limits, not intuition. And it will not tolerate criticism of its criticism. It holds no value to the Aristotelian ideals of good intention and purpose, moral purpose, consistency or “manly valor.” In short it behaves like an out of control drunk on the streets of Toronto.
“ Now any speech or action that manifests moral purpose of any kind will be expressive of character: the character will be good if the purpose is good.”
Aristotle
The Poetics
A LETTER BY TONY NARDI
“If my stating that Kelly Nestruck listing The Sopranos among his favourite TV shows on his Facebook page is dishonest on my part and weakens my argument (due to where I obtained the information and its ‘irrelevance’ to Nestruck’s critical view of Letter Three) I will accept responsibility for failing to elaborate on the point.
First: My citing open-to-the-public information from Nestruck’s Facebook page is not quoting personal information he had intended to keep private. One posts viewable information on Facebook to publicly state one’s views, likes and dislikes. It’s there for all to see, otherwise only his Facebook friends would have access to the information.
Secondly: The Sopranos’ reference is very relevant to Nestruck’s limited “review” of Letter Three and any notion that he stayed within professional (critical analysis) boundaries. Nestruck reported untruths in English Canada’s national newspaper. The Sopranos ‘revelation’ uncovers one of his untruths: his apparent problem with the “bile, profanity and violence” in Letter Three and theatrical (dramatic) works in general.
Third point: Nestruck crossed the line a few times, mainly framing his piece within a cultural (tribal) context, implying that the Calabrian-born Nardi cannot possibly speak for the cheery-thirsty English-Canadian theatregoers and theatre practitioners, that dwindling ‘majority’ that presumably (and too often) sets the cultural standard for all the other ‘secondary’ tribes. He attempted to draw the lines for English-Canada’s theatre, defining what it should be and who qualifies to represent it and speak on its behalf.
TONY NARDI
THE ACTOR AS DIS-LOCATION
Law and Art normally don’t mix but in Canada they are forced to become bedfellows. When the audiences are told, by imprisoned performer/slaves on how to behave and what they are supposed to be like in order to be an audience-and not be like-and the actor-artists of the nation don’t stand a prayer or a chance for an expressive liberation of truth, then the audiences” are forced to “act.”. Standing ovations for the mediocre and the more mediocre, the better. And when Mr. Nardi points this out in his writings, the critics are outraged, or addled, or contemptuously dismissive. And worse.
And the audiences play along with the charade, in a stilted British accent. All 240 nations, all 3000 tribes this is the throne speech theme of “the letters.” In the words and mouth of the dislocated actor/immigrant to whom Mr. Nardi has given voice to. They are written not to the imaginary “Sarah” but to all the real Sarahs within us, all the lost Sarahs who have lost their languages, their cultures, their memories and their history and who speak in private, broken tongues, whose voices can not be heard, whose muffled and strangled cries are forever silenced. This is the celebration of the Canadian theatre. Of the Bacchantes of our Time.
FROM THE GLOBE&MAIL, NATIONAL NEWSPAPER OF CANADA
By Kelly Nestruck
Tony Nardi, a Dora- and Genie-winning actor born in Calabria and raised in Montreal, wants to blow up English-Canadian theatre as well. Also presented as part of the FTA, … And Counting (Letter Three) is his suicide bombing of “the amateur theatre we call professional” that “patronizes patrons.” In it, Nardi compares the health of Canadian culture in general to a person who has been buried alive and is eating parts of himself while awaiting a rescue that might never come.
Nardi has previously espoused a similarly cheery outlook in two previous Letters, the first of which he wrote after being offered an insulting Italian-Canadian role on a TV series, the second being a rant against a commedia dell’arte production he loathed and two Toronto critics (including one from The Globe and Mail) who praised it.
… And Counting (Letter Three) is a post-mortem of sorts, inspired by his frustration trying to get funding for the first two letters. In a rant full of literary allusions and profanity that he reads off a laptop in a volcanic, near-violent performance, the gifted actor asks many provocative questions. Is it better to be an artist in Canada or to work for an arts council? Are the most successful artists in Canada really the most successful grant writers? Are the skills required to write a good grant application actually the opposite of what you need to be a good artist?
Nardi raises important points, then buries them in bile. Everyone he encounters in the “letter” – journalists, bureaucrats, artists who work within the system, community leaders, audience members – are painted as ignorant, self-serving, mealy-mouthed or some combination thereof. He, on the other hand, is the only intelligent guy in this world, the only true artist.
… And Counting (Letter Three) is also often inaccurate and frequently contradictory. For example, at one point, he berates this newspaper for not covering the Genies (not true), while at the same suggesting that there is nothing at the Genies worth covering (so why should we?).
Is Nardi playing an exaggeration of himself in this rambling rant?
In a Q&A afterward, he seemed calmer, more interested in discussion. If his intention is to provoke, it works – I had to restrain myself from heckling or walking out.
Ultimately, for me, this non-play completely backfired. And I doubt I’m the only one who thought, well, if the arts councils refused funding to Nardi’s self-righteous, hateful two-and-half-hour diatribe then maybe they’re not so screwed up after all. “
Kelly Nestruck
Canadian Critic
“ … And Counting (Letter Three) is a post-mortem of sorts, inspired by his frustration trying to get funding…”
For anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear its quite clear to anyone who has all 3 letters that they clearly are not inspired by Mr Nardi’s frustration to get grants for his works, which he financed himself. The fact that he has not received a dime from Government sources and has found only one “angel”- Mr. Rocco Galati, one of Canada’s top constitutional lawyers, and this on the basis of the thematic artistry of his works should say something about the work and Mr.Nardi’s uncanny determination over an almost 4 year period to write, perform and film it.
But for those who have eyes to hear and ears to see it perplexes, frustrates and creates the volcanic rant which Mr. Nestruck and other critics of his ilk reported. Like many other small minded and guilty Claudius’s they too began to scream out “Lights, Lights” And its an old pattern in Toronto and elsewhere in Canada, especially with Globe&Mail, the bastion of Anglo Culture in a now multi-cultural nation. Is this racism? Is the pope Catholic? There is hardly one statement in the G&B review that is accurate. There is hardly one sentence in the co-called review which addresses the reality and artistry of the 3 letters. Not for naught that for over a 35 year period in a bizarre twist of onomatopeiac casuistry the papers has hired critics with names like Base, Mallet, Ne-struck, Whit-aker-as though unconsciously or perhaps consciously assaulting the artists of the nation and needing hatchet men to perform the task. How dare you speak Mr. Nardi? How dare you? Be quiet!!!
“If not central to our daily life, ethics is nothing..”
JRS- ON EQUILIBRIUM
But Mr. Nardi, will not remain quiet and dares and more
And it is precisely this light that Mr. Nardi is trying to shed on this shameful situation. The Actor/Artist in Canada is screwed. He has been silenced and his scream is silent.
END PART ONE
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