“Anyone who’s gone through a major emotional trauma finds themselves alone,” says actor Raoul Bhaneja of his current role in the Evelyn de la Chenliere play Bashir Lazhar, currently running at the Tarragon Theatre. Bhaneja is becoming a one-man industry of performing one-man shows, having already spent a decade planning, and then performing, his solo version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

Marshal Pynkoski is passionate about art, especially ballet and opera. The Co-Artistic Director of the acclaimed Opera Atelier speaks with exuberance, even as he excoriates Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s electioneering comments about culture. “To what extent are things elite?” he asks. “I grew up in Scarborough, and because of my parents’ religious background, they decided we needed a musical background, that we must play an instrument. Is that elite? We all played musical instruments, so we could play in church or a plaza if there was an evangelical meeting. That’s where it began, but my mother’s thing was to get an education, to play an instrument, because neither of them played.”

A Chorus Line is the ultimate backstage musical. Detailing the ups and downs of a group of young dancers auditioning for parts in a Broadway chorus line, the 1975 piece is known for its heady mix of music and soliloquy-style contemplations. Conceived and originally choreographed and directed by Broadway legend Michael Bennett, and with music by Marvin Hamlisch, the multi-award-winning musical has been seen in numerous revivals and touring productions since its opening, and was adapted into film in 1985. The latest touring version, now on at the Canon Theatre, is filled with stellar dancing, but director Bob Avian has let the pace sag considerably, which is problematic in terms of sustaining energy and interest, much less establishing empathy with the characters.

Truth is a concept that slides in and out of public consciousness. Frequently used for political expediency, it takes on a different significance within the sphere of the personal, particularly within relationships, when deception, not truth, becomes a more importance concern. Truth, however it’s perceived, slides to the back row, pulled out, like a winter sweater, as suits the climate. When tragedy strikes, as it does in every life, truth is shared and universal –clear as water –but surrounding details become murky, particularly when enclosed by the misty shroud of memory. Relationships –whether with lovers, friends, or parents –become simultaneously less and more clear.