As the story goes, my parents had always wanted children but were unable to have any. A family acquaintance who worked with immigrants and refugees knew my birth mother, a teenager who was unable to raise me. My birth mother was steadfast about finding me a loving family to live with. I was adopted as an infant, and grew up in a supportive and loving environment. I was always made to feel cherished.
What I did not always know, however, was how to navigate being a transracial adoptee. While my adoption was something I felt comfortable openly discussing with others, I was raised to be "colour blind." My family would tell me I would be loved and appreciated, no matter my colour. While this worked in my family bubble, out in the world my Asian appearance seemed perfectly visible to everyone else.
The recent surge of anti-Asian discrimination brings back painful memories: a bully in high school calling me Sulu based on the Star Trek character, being continually asked on the playground why I did not look like my parents. At a doctor's appointment, a kid in the waiting room pulling his eyes into slants and singing "ching chong chow" at me while his parents did nothing.
I was always the artsy type, but for some reason, people assumed I was a math or science whiz. One Halloween, I dressed up as cowboy "Wild Bill" Hickok, sporting a fake moustache and goatee, but everyone asked me whether I was supposed to be David Suzuki or Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid.
For many years, I did not acknowledge my Khmer ancestry. How could I? I was not raised learning the language or culture. At times, it felt like being recognized as Asian was a negative trait and something I tried to downplay or hide.
When I had two children of my own, however, and watched them try to field questions about their ethnicity, I realized that the time had come for me to dig deeper into my roots in order to help them understand the diversity and beauty of their heritage.
I have since made it a priority to connect with Khmer members of my community and fellow diaspora writers. With my wife and children, I am learning how to celebrate Khmer New Year and am exploring Cambodian cuisine. I hope to fill in some gaps from my childhood. But there will always be gaps, and that's OK.
I feel like I am returning to my adoption, taking literal baby steps toward reclaiming my Cambodian-ness. It has taken me years to reconcile my Asian appearance with my upbringing, and it will likely always be a work in progress. Through a growing awareness of intersectionality, I am learning to embrace the full spectrum of my Canadian, Portuguese, Spanish and Khmer heritage.
You gotta hand it to the ancient Greeks. They knew how to put together a democratic government, an education system, and good comedy. Broad and zany, Aristophanes of ye old Greece crafted the best plays the world has seen yet only eleven of them have survived. But what if one of these lost plays were found centuries later? This is the idea behind The Gods of Comedy at Little Colonel Playhouse. A comedy of mythic proportions, this play fuses some basic theater history and playful shenanigans.
The curtain rises on Daphne, a Classics professor on holiday in Greece, played by Katie Gravis Bechtler. Enthralled and inspired by her surroundings, Daphne faces a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity upon learning her cohort Ralph (Josh Cox) has discovered a long-lost text by Aristophanes. Soon, a simple mishap turns into big trouble for Daphne, Ralph, and their recent discovery.
As chaos ensues for Daphne and Ralph, the Greek gods attempt to inspire and assist in any way they can. Of course, this leads to more nonsense and mix-ups until a chance entrance from the campus janitor saves the day. Pat Wagner handles three parts with well-thought-out character choices. While his playfully arrogant Ares brings to mind Thor movies Love and Thunder and Ragnarok, his heavily accented performances of the street urchin and janitor tiptoe past being problematic, resisting any kind of stereotype. Wagner brings credible energy to a key moment of the first act as he sells a necklace with special powers. The delivery is solid and yet the scene needs an extra something to upsell the allure of this special prop and its magic, perhaps a simple change in lighting or blocking to sell the moment. Jesse Rebecca Pavlovic and Erika Wardlow offer clever comedic supporting performances of uptight academic Deans and Hollywood divas hungry for their next big break.
Little Colonel Playhouse has put together a show that proves they know how to make their audience laugh. It would be easy to look deeper into the content of the play as it relates to ancient text and connect the dots between Ancient Greek references. But I suggest you just enjoy the play and laugh as much as you can.
Released in 1997, Truce is Francesco Rosi's last film. It was nominated for the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival for Best Picture and won the David di Donatello awards for Best Film, Best Director, and Best Producer. The film tells the story of an Italian of Jewish descent who was a prisoner in Auschwitz and, after the concentration camp was liberated, went on a long journey home to Turin. The film is based on the Italian writer Primo Levi's memoir, The Truce. The main mass scenes were filmed in the Ivano-Frankivsk region.
Ihor Mykhailiuk: The first idea was to do it in Poland, but at that time, it was much cheaper to shoot in Ukraine. That was the main reason, as far as I know. How did I get onto the set? I saw an ad in a newspaper that interpreters were being recruited to film a movie in Ivano-Frankivsk. I had a good laugh at it. But when I saw the same ad a week later, I decided to give it a try. I came, we talked, and I was invited to get involved.
It was late autumn. The filming took place in Horokholyna, Bohorodchany raion. My first impression was of an unfinished, dilapidated farm standing in what seemed like an open field. We had a kind of office there. Everyone gathered on the farm to receive instructions from the managers. Later, when they started building a replica of Auschwitz, the weather was cold and wet. We had nowhere to sit down or get warm, but it was fascinating.
Ihor Mykhailiuk: The thing with crowd scenes was that people had to be thin, preferably with their hair cut short. Any candidates who showed up but were not thin were rejected. We selected people of this type to complete the picture. Of course, there were nuances. But I wouldn't say there was a very strict approach to appearances. The main requirement was a lean constitution.
Ihor Mykhailiuk: In general, there were many interpreters on the set. I had my share of the work. Each interpreter was attached to a representative of the Italian film company. They had to help contact the local staff and resolve any operational issues. I worked with set designers and architects, mostly with one person, but I crossed paths with dozens of others. Basically, I helped secure coordination between Ukrainian and Italian employees to do specific jobs.
Ihor Mykhailiuk: Ivano-Frankivsk was closed to foreigners. If a foreigner found a way into our city, he must have received multiple permits from the former KGB. We didn't know that much about the Holocaust. I did, however, have some knowledge of the Jewish community in Ivano-Frankivsk. I knew that there used to be a Jewish cemetery behind the city lake. It was the oldest Jewish cemetery. I cannot say whether it was flooded.
I knew a little that Ivano-Frankivsk was a Jewish city and that there was a ghetto there. Jews and the Holocaust were not popular topics in those days. We had just come out of the communist darkness. Society was taking its first steps toward opening its eyes and reassessing the past and current events. The topic of the Holocaust was not relevant at the time. And it wasn't the fault of society. It was the fault of the government that we had to live with.
Now, our society is more or less open. Now, you can publicly express your views and protest, which was impossible back then. For example, a German church stood on the site of the Nadiia hotel. It was simply blown up, and no one said a word. There are many such examples in Ivano-Frankivsk.
Ihor Mykhailiuk: After living in a closed society, communication with foreigners came as a shock to us. There were many interesting moments. For example, there was a Swiss representative who spoke several languages. I spoke with her in Italian, and she also had an English interpreter. She also spoke French and German. In the span of three minutes, she could take turns talking to people in four different languages. Fluently. It was a shock for me.
For one of the set designers, that film was No. 169 on his list. He is a legend of Italian cinema. He practically grew up in the "Italian Hollywood" in the center of Rome. Once, he told us about his films and the actors he worked with. I was very impressed.
Andrea Crisanti, the chief production designer, is an iconic figure in Italian cinema who made films with Adriano Celentano. For me, it was an incredible, new, exciting world that I had never seen before that left many impressions, a lot of information, and memories for life.
Ukrainians and Jews have lived as neighbours for centuries, creating and sharing enduring cultures that continue to inform their identities today. Ukrainian Jewish Encounter (UJE) is proud to present Part 1 of an integrated narrative of these two peoples in the belief that there is much to be gained by viewing their historical experience together, in all its complexity.
The 'Encounter' prize aims to build on the common experiences of Ukrainians and Jews over the centuries, expressed in literature and nonfiction. The Prize will be awarded annually to the most influential work in literature and nonfiction (in alternate years) that fosters Ukrainian-Jewish understanding, helping solidify Ukraine's place as a multi-ethnic society and giving truth to the motto, "Our stories are incomplete without each other."
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