![]() In David Type's Just Us Indians (Playwrights Canada, 55, $4.95 paper) the setting is once again domestic, and the people are the roomers in Mary's Cabbagetown house, whichis, as she puts it, something of 'a freak farm.' The play begins with a series of monologues of failure: from Mary, who has never escaped from her run-down neighbourhood Bobby, an ageing transvestite and Tashie, who has left her reservation in search of something better. We are not to take his crisis too seriously, and the play is carried along by the sheer liveliness of his gab. ![]() But he does not disappear entirely: he is back at the piano in the closing scene,as full ofhis instant opinions as ever, a comic survivor. The populist rhetoric of his opinions of the world and its ways only makes plainer his pathetic evasiveness, and the action of the play largely sees him in retreat, from his agent and a challenging audition, from his family, and from his present job. A second-rate cocktail pianist, he talks about everything but his true self the anecdotal versions run along the lines of the time he played with Buddy Rich. ![]() Indeed, the effect of Bill Ballantyne's AI Cornell in The AlCornell Story (Playwrights Canada, 64, $4.95 paper) relies on our having heard his opinions, stories, and wisecracks before.ĪI is not exactly a bore, but he is a little shopworn, and behind the assumed patter, evidently, more than a little frantic. In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content: TRANSLATIONS 383 eccentric.
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