Benthic Canada

The Empress of Ireland: A Leap of Faith
by Jean-Pierre Ranger (May 29, 2007)

He sat patiently, listened and waited. When would his turn come? Would it ever come? He wasn't sure anymore. The presenters read out the names of the nominees and then opened an envelope to announce the winner in some category. It went on and on. He had seen it all before, having been nominated five years in a row. He started to wonder whether he would ever win, regardless of the work ethic he invested in his career. He had often cursed the entertainment industry for its complete lack of ideals and its ever commercial pursuits. Why, he asked himself, why should he sit here and wait in vain to watch some poseur win the award simply because another movie made more money than his own?

Nevertheless, I must always pursue my ideals, he vowed. He believed uncompromisingly in the true nature of art. That's why he was there. Though a rebel, he believed in changing the system from within. To work outside the system was a complete waste of time. If I could only get into that bubble, he thought. He would find others with the same vision and together, they would start a chain reaction that would change the art world. He thought that was how the women's suffragette movement won its cause. He had often said: "Regardless of the odds, you start with an ethical and ideal vision and a relentless will to pursue it, then you surround yourself with winners and together you all make it happen. That's the only way!" He was idealistic to a flaw, and a committed professional. Tonight, he sat there, dressed impeccably as if attending an opera, complete with cape, silk scarf and a felt hat sitting on his lap.

He thought of his father Henry, the greatest Shakespearian actor to have ever graced the stage. He recalled playing the character of Cassio in Othello as a youth on a make believe stage in his mother's house at 10 Gilston Road in London. Why, even his older brother Harry and his dog Patch were in on the action. Their mother watched them and cheered them on, as she knitted their winter sweaters. He remembered the time he caught his mother hiding behind the living room curtains crying out of loneliness, because Henry had left her for that other woman. He recalled the day he told his father: "I want to be an actor!" but his father insisted he join the army. That memory brought to mind the despair he had felt at the rejection of his dream. He then remembered that dreary day in Belfast - and the roar of the gun as he pointed it to his own heart and pulled the trigger.

He never understood how he had survived, but he recalled his father's fateful words some weeks after the incident and the humble joy he felt from hearing his father finally open up to him after so many years of stoic reserve. "I never realized how much it meant to you to be an actor," Henry had said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were a child. Things were complicated. Your mother and I were, well...we were simply incompatible! I wasn't going to sacrifice my career for demands based on petty jealousy. She knew I was an actor well before we were married. She always blamed Ellen Terry for my leaving her. It simply wasn't true. Ellen wasn't 'The Wench' as she claimed her to be. Ellen is a friend, and a business partner--nothing more. If anything, she has kept me sane all these years. But that's all behind us now.
I want us to be on better terms you and I--like family should. I want you to join me at the Royal Lyceum Theatre. We will work together." Those words, that respect and acceptance from his father, meant everything to him. He knew how much the Royal Lyceum meant to his father. It was on the cutting edge in terms of costumes, designs and lighting, and its plays were such wonderful productions. He remembered the time they had performed together in Faust, and the play he wrote, Peter the Great, in which his father played the lead part. He also recalled the day the Royal Lyceum finally fell into receivership, and how his father's health deteriorated afterwards.

But that was in the past. Though the memories endured, tonight, he was here, sitting in His Majesty's Theatre in Montreal, thinking this might finally be his chance. He needed to step out of his father's shadow and make his own mark. Lost in thought, he barely heard the presenter proclaim: "Laurence Irving! For Napoleon's Hammer." The crowd rose and applauded the winner; some even whistled to express their approval. He sat in his chair, momentarily stunned as he tried to comprehend the meaning of this moment. Then he stood and acknowledged the crowd, and they roared even louder. He felt deeply humbled. Father would be proud, he thought, with tears swelling in his eyes.

Laurence walked up to the podium, delivered a brief but gracious speech and accepted his award. The movie had been a resounding international success, and its performances were held over in theatres worldwide. Laurence's star was on the rise, so it was only fitting that the Montreal Actors Guild would now bestow upon him its respect. After all, as his father always told him: "Make it happen elsewhere, and they'll give you the keys to the city!"

After the awards ceremony, he was whisked away to a reception in his honour at the prestigious Mount Stephen Club on Drummond Street. As he entered through the impressive oak doors, he was greeted with more applause, cheers and praise. This was finally his night.

He stood for a moment to admire those in attendance. Most were from the art and the political worlds. They were there to rub elbows, to request a favour, to take advantage of a 'photo op' or to just be seen. He watched and listened, as in one corner of the room, the famous explorer adventurer Sir Henry Seton Karr enthralled a group of guests with the details of his latest trek to British Columbia. "And there I was...steadfast, with no weapon in hand, right in front of the beast! A great northern grizzly rose fourteen feet tall. He looked straight at me with his dark eyes and growled while he showed me his ferocious teeth." His listeners stood mesmerized before him. He just loves to pour it on, Laurence thought and smiled to himself as he walked on.

Across the room, he spotted Dr. Alfred Barlow and his wife as they deliberated with other guests the soundness of Canada's decision to send more troops overseas. "I say it's better to face the threat now than to wait! They're all barbarians after all," he heard Barlow exclaim.

"Yes, but think of the poor mothers of these soldiers," Laurence interrupted. "Mothers are less inclined to support war, since they totally appreciate the price and effort involved in a child's nurture--unlike the majority of men who seem so concerned with only king and country." Dr. Barlow frowned at Laurence's sudden and unwarranted intervention, though Laurence noticed he had gained approval from Barlow's wife through a smile she gave him. He discreetly responded with a wink and walked on confidently. The evening was in full swing. He enjoyed the packed house and the music being played by the band. Busboys and waiters rushed back and forth as if in time with the music.

Laurence admired the splendour of the Victorian decor. Many tapestries and paintings graced the oak paneled walls--some from the Gilded Age and others from the Progressive Era. He noticed the giant chandelier suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the room. As he walked about, he spotted the large portrait of King George V over the fireplace mantle. 'Georgy' looks pleased with the proceedings this evening, he thought.

"Laurence darling!" He heard a female voice behind him. He turned around and recognized Mrs. Emilia Dunlevy, a socialite from Denver he had met on a few occasions during his trips to New York and abroad. She looked at him seriously and said: "When are you going to find yourself a woman? It certainly isn't for lack of choice. Why, I bet every woman in this room would gladly make you breakfast tomorrow morning. What is it with you Laurence? What does a woman have to do to make you tick?"
"Emilia, what a pleasure to see you again. What brings you to Montreal?"
"I'm visiting some friends in Westmount before heading to Europe for the summer. I leave tomorrow evening. I heard of your splendid accomplishment and was told you would be here, so I thought I'd drop by to express my sincere congratulations."
"Thank you Emilia. How gracious of you. And how is Frank doing?"
"He's fine," as she raised her eyes to the ceiling.
"Will he accompany you to Europe?"
"Unfortunately, he's too busy with that office tower of his. It's become an obsession."
"The man works too hard," said Laurence. The conversation paused as her eyes spoke to him in telling silence.
"Well, if you'll excuse me Emilia, I must do the rounds."
"I understand darling," she said. "It's your special night, but do stop by to see me if you tire of the crowd."
"I'll try," he said, "but if I don't see you later, have a nice trip."
He smiled at her and slowly walked away, waving his hand. A cougar that one, Laurence thought to himself.

He heard his name being called out, and turned to see a handsome young man approaching. It was Teddy Gray from the film crew, accompanied by a lovely blonde. Teddy took care of the introductions. "Sadie, may I introduce you to the man himself, 'The Great Laurence Irving.'"
"That's a bit much Teddy," Laurence replied.
"Bah, you're too humble Laurence." Teddy hugged them both by the shoulders and drew them close to him. "I was just telling Sadie here how we children from the seventies are so lucky!"
"Really? How so?" Laurence asked.
"Well," he said passionately, "they didn't have the technology before the seventies to film the wide angle shots with the quality and depth we can today. You needed more than one camera to do the work, and the visual editing was god awful work. Nowadays, it's point, click, shoot and 'tada!'" Sadie laughed at his theatrics.
Laurence then said to her: "Teddy here has an eye that does more than just make scenery come alive. He's the best film director on the face of the earth." He leaned over to her ear and whispered: "He's a good cook too and even cleans the dishes! Damn good catch if you ask me." She burst out laughing.
"What did you just tell her?" Teddy asked with innocent concern while he dropped his arms to each side.
Laurence looked at her. "Shhhh, it's a secret!"
"Alright, enough about me you two," Teddy replied. "It looks like you won't get much reading done tonight with this 'big do' going on."
"Oh, I'll have plenty of time tomorrow," said Laurence. "I plan to rest and study for a few weeks."
"Rest and study? Now that's a contradiction! What have you been burning midnight oil on these days?" Teddy asked.
"I've been going over Leo Tolstoy's letters. I'm thinking of writing his Dominion of Darkness into a film script. I've wanted to do it ever since I saw the play performed in Paris years ago." Sarah Bernhardt had the leading role. She was intense and magnificent."
"Really! You saw the goddess of the French perform live? I would have paid a pretty penny to be there. Wasn't that play banned from Russia for its grim depiction of the conditions faced by the peasantry?"
"Yes it was. Especially for the way the play described how badly women were treated."
"Could you even get the permits to film on location?"
"I don't care where we film it Teddy. We show the world this horrid truth. That's our job."
"You certainly never back away from a fight Laurence or a controversy for that matter. That's why I love working with this guy," as he looked proudly back at Sadie.
"It's a good fight Teddy," replied Laurence. "What purpose is civilization if we can't all share in its benefits? If politicians won't budge out of greed, then it's up to the art world to shake the arrogance out of the tree. I can't rest thinking of all the poverty that exists in the world, and I'll never stop the fight, until all women are treated as equal partners. I was in Russia for three years. I saw the misery with my own eyes. To live in the Russian culture gave me backbone. I owe it to these people to tell everyone of their plight. I also owe it to myself, because I promised myself I would use the stage to carry the message."
"I still think you should take a real break from it all Laurence. You never stop."
"To learn one's craft and to perfect it is a lifelong and daily commitment Teddy. These values are part of who I am. I can't stop. Besides, I'll have plenty of time to rest when I die. You never know when your ship will come, so best to breathe in life to the fullest while you can."
"You are a man ahead of your time, Mr. Irving," Sadie said to him with intent and sincerity.
"Thank you, Sadie," he replied graciously. He then looked at them both and said, "You two have a wonderful evening."

Laurence continued to circulate through the room. He had stopped to chat with a group of guests when a woman standing by a table caught his eye. She was a tall, dark brunette, slender and beautiful to his eyes. She was not a femme fatale but more the artistic type. Her face revealed a character of free spirit. Her large hazel, almond shaped eyes were penetrating and reflected a deep mystique. She stared straight at him. To Laurence, it seemed that she could see right through him. She wore an aqua blue evening dress that gave her the appearance of floating slightly off the floor. "Uhm, an angel," he whispered. He had the distinct feeling that he knew her, but his memory couldn't pinpoint from where--recognition lost in the fog. Maybe it would come back to him. It didn't matter for the moment. She was there in front of him now. He didn't have to work up the courage to walk over to her.

"Excuse me, please," he said to a guest who was rambling on about the need to strengthen the new Copyright Act. Laurence turned away from the guests and walked over to her. As he approached, her demeanor did not change. She still stared intently and smiled at him. He felt his attraction to her increasing, as if he was being pulled by an invisible, hypnotic force. Shaking himself back to reality, Laurence took her hand. He felt the warm lifeblood of her hand within his.
"Hello, I'm Laurence Irving. And you are?"
"Mabel," she replied. "Mabel Hackney."
He noticed the Welsh accent. Perhaps a native of Swansea, he thought.
"And what brings you here, Miss Hackney?"
"Oh, I wouldn't have missed this event for anything in the world," she replied.
"And what event might that be," he said innocently.
"A chance to finally meet you, Mr. Irving. I do enjoy your work so very much. I've followed your career for many years. I'm an actress."
"An actress! Ah, a kindred spirit!" He smiled at her as a pleasant silence filled the air and then he asked her: "What might I have seen you in? Blockbuster movies? Live theatre?"
"I haven't been in any films, but I've performed in many plays in England, Canada and America, including Broadway as of late."
"Really? I've always been interested in Broadway. Unlike film, live performances capture a unique form of spontaneity and bond with an audience. I would be very interested in attending one of your performances, Miss Hackney. Are you playing anywhere in Montreal these days?"
"Unfortunately not. I came here to meet you," she said to him seriously. "I wanted to talk to you about our next play."

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