When we get on the topic of Montreal, Matt winces.

“Do people just not get us there?”

We’re discussing Matt & Kim’s last Montreal appearance, a show that Matt remembers had a painfully low turnout. Immediately, however, he regains his characteristic ebullience.

“We were looking for a chance to get back there and do it again. I’m expecting, or hoping, that this show will be awesome, that [Montreal]’s back on our map. We’re not scared!” he laughs.

Prior to forming the keyboard/drum powerhouse that is Matt & Kim, Matt Johnson and Kim Schifino met while studying at New York’s Pratt Institute. Immediately, they got along. (Kim initially had a crush on Matt; the Tribune infers that this crush has been reciprocated, since the musical duo are now a couple.)

“We’re one and the same in a lot of ways. I’ve played with bands with five guys in the past, and everyone’s got a different idea of what a song should sound like. You compromise so much that it’s watered down and loses focus. I have a very difficult time compromising, and so does Kim—luckily we’re on the same page and [we] make a lot of the same decisions.”

The two got on so well, in fact, that the band came out of their relationship, rather than vice versa.

“She didn’t play drums, I didn’t play keyboard, but we did other stuff; we had similar interests in art, and we worked well together,” Matt reminisces. “It almost seems [that] before you find a bunch of musicians who are good at their techniques and put them together, you should find people you’re good with.”

Seven years later, Matt & Kim have made a name for themselves through both their exuberant live shows, and indie-pop singles like “Cameras,” “Daylight,” and most recently, “Let’s Go.” While their fourth album, Lightning, contains their trademark catchy hooks and effusive, thumping tracks, the sound is less slick than their past two releases.

“I consider Lightning to be both the most mature, and the most immature album we’ve ever made. We made the [second] album in my parents’ house, in the bedroom I grew up in, my old skateboarding posters still on the wall. It was just unfiltered Matt & Kim because we didn’t have any producers, or engineers…. Then with the [third] album, we went in with a producer, and different studios—I think three or four different studios—and in the end, we [loved] that album. But some of the humanity was taken out, because of people who knew what they were doing, as opposed to me and Kim, who have no fucking clue what we were doing,” Matt laughs.

“We decided that we should go back to having no clue what we’re doing, so we went back and made the Lightning album.”

With Lightning garnering an enthusiastic response from critics and fans, Matt & Kim are about to embark on another whirlwind tour. Whatever Montreal’s reception—and if their recent shows are any indication, it will be overwhelmingly positive—the two are happy to be on the road together.

“Any relationship I’ve [had] in the past, it’d be a bloodbath right now,” Matt jokes. “No one should be able to work together and be in a relationship together. I feel really lucky that we are.”

Matt & Kim perform with Passion Pit on Feb. 15 at The Metropolis (1909, Ave. des Montreal). Admission $40.15.

America, despite its violent early emancipation from its colonial overlords, has always harboured a deep-seated, almost shameful Anglophilia. This is perhaps most evident in the cultural sphere, where only the audacity of the American would allow him to appropriate that most revered of all English literary titans, William Shakespeare. West Side Story, one of the more successful efforts at such appropriation, transplants the star-crossed passion of Romeo and Juliet from the opulence of Verona to the blue-collar grit of ‘60s New York City. The Arts Undergraduate Theatre Society (AUTS)’s rendition of this classic is mostly faithful and acceptably competent, with a few flashes of strength and talent.

Whereas conflict in Romeo and Juliet stems from aristocratic feuds, West Side Story traces its problems to ethnic tension. The irony is that the solution proposed here—the stick-and-carrot combo of assimilation and ‘the American dream’—is decidedly less universally palatable than the authors may care to admit.

The Sharks are a Puerto Rican gang, the Jets, Caucasian; the latter accuses the former of moving in to take ‘their territory’; repeated skirmishes between the two sides have not served as a valve to release pent-up pressure, so much as to incubate it. Caught in the middle are the lovers Tony and Maria, each from an opposing side of the ethnic divide.

Given this context, it is unsurprising that the musical brims with heightened passions. Yet, AUTS’ cast is too often too limp, overcome with lethargy. This is particularly true in large ensembles, and during the first act, where the lack of energy makes for noticeable problems in synchronicity. To director and choreographer Rebecca Pearl’s credit, it can be deduced from her dynamic blocking and vigorous choreography that the intention of the production is no pulled punches, a choice of force over subtlety—yet the cast lacks the necessary momentum to follow through on this promise.

Christopher Stevens-Brown’s Tony maintains a curiously stooping posture, with short, staccato cadence that seems like an attempt to channel Jesse Eisenberg. Stevens-Brown’s speaking voice is a stark contrast to his singing, which glows with richness, despite being occasionally challenged in the upper registers. As Maria, Piper Ainsworth is likewise stronger in her vocals than in her characterizations, though she does find compelling dimensions to the role in the second act. Unfortunately, the lack of chemistry between the two is a formidable stumbling block for much of the production.

The clear stars of the show are two of the prominent supporting characters, Anita (Vanessa Drusnitzer) and Riff (Ryan Kligman). Drusnitzer possesses no flaws—she is equally formidable and brilliant in her singing, dancing, and acting. For her nuanced portrayal, Drusnitzer is rewarded with a memorable, scene-stealing turn. Kligman similarly exudes personality, bringing to Riff a certain slick suaveness that this critic has not seen in previous renditions. Much of the reason why “Cool” is this production’s best song can be credited to Kligman. Another standout was Diesel (Ben Harris), who, in going beyond the confines of the script, breathes life into the character.

Michèle Robinson’s lighting design is wonderfully imaginative, with a boldness and deftness that compliments the production’s aspirations. The live orchestra was generally capable, making minimal errors, though the brass section was a cause of concern at times. As noted earlier, Pearl’s choreography—aided by Galen Macdonald’s unobtrusive and functional set design—is effective and sharp, which comes through even with imperfect execution. The performance attended also had sound errors too frequent to ignore; one hopes that this is a wrinkle that will be quickly smoothed over.

By the very end of the production, AUTS’ cast finds a powerful emotional chord to pluck, finally fulfilling the potential that is drizzled tantalizingly throughout the show. Alas, this discovery of strength comes far too late.

            The Arts Undergraduate Theatre Society’s production of West Side Story runs Jan. 31 to Feb. 2, 7:30 p.m. at Moyse Hall. Student tickets $15.

Beautiful City Theatre’s production of Godspell, the hit broadway musical, promises to be a unique experience. It presents the life of Jesus through a series of parables from the Gospel of Matthew. However, this shouldn’t discourage the non-believers—the company holds humanistic values and asserts that many different themes can be found throughout.

Godspell is very much a demonstration of the McGill community’s participation in Montreal’s world of professional theatre. Several members of the cast, like Dane Stewart (Jesus) and Elizabeth Conway (John; Judas), are current students. Moreover, the two founders of Beautiful City, Calli ArmSstrong and Natalie Gershtein also studied at McGill. Even a McGill professor, Myrna Wyatt Selkirk, was involved and led workshops for the actors.

According to Armstrong, who also directed the show, McGill’s theatre community is invaluable, because it “allows people to develop their ideas and learn all aspects of theatre.”

Armstrong describes Beautiful City as a “process-oriented company.” One of the musical’s main themes is about a group of people coming together. In order to demonstrate this on stage, the company spent several weeks engaged in group activities, following the script reads. In addition, each actor was encouraged to develop their own child-like character that was independent of themselves, but nonetheless still inspired by personal experiences.

The script itself allows this sort of method to be implemented on the production itself. Only two of the actors—Stewart and Conway—actually play named characters. The original Godspell was developed with the participation of its original actors, who lent their names to the characters they portray. There is a general ambiguity about elements in the original script that has allowed this work to have many varying iterations. This opens the piece to interpretation and gives creative licence that can be used to present mandates like Beautiful City’s, which seeks to examine humanity and its interactions.

One of the ambiguous elements is the set itself. Beautiful City continues in the same vein as past productions by refraining from explicitly discussing the location. Instead, it chooses to create an atmosphere of play and childhood. This story is used as a venue to introduce lively characters and examine the universal themes of the development of independence and sexuality. In doing so, Godspell becomes instantly accessible to anyone—from a university student to a theatre aficionado. It also shies away from presenting the parables exactly as the Bible does, but rather, delivers a new twist to the way they are presented.

The musical promises a uniques experience: the show goes outside the realms of conventionality by breaking the fourth wall and including improvised elements. In short, every single performance will be unique and fresh.

As Armstrong says, “Aside from it being very thought-provoking, it’s a lot of fun. It’s something to be experienced.”

Beautiful City Theatre’s production of Godspell runs from Jan. 31 to Feb. 2, 7:30 p.m. at Centaur Theatre (453 St. François-Xavier). Student admission $20.

Every year, popular media whips up a great hullabaloo over the Oscars. However, it’s important to keep in mind exactly which aspects of the awards generate buzz: Who is leading in the Best Picture race? When will the next Harvey Weinstein temper-tantrum be? Is Bjork wearing a swan around her neck?

But sometimes, the side dish is better than the entrée.

As predictable as the parade of snobs and snubs may be, an equally reliable aspect of the Academy Awards is that ‘minor’ categories will be overlooked. This is particularly true for the ‘shorts’ categories—live action, animation, and documentary—which not only serve as important launching pads for future auteurs, but often feature talent and artistry that rival, if not best what is offered by the Best Picture slate.

Cinema du Parc will be screening this year’s Oscar-nominated animated and live action short films, and while there is no mind-boggling ‘must see’—Logorama (2009), anyone?—the diversity and imagination represented in the selections practically guarantee that something will catch your fancy. If not, have no fear—they’re shorts after all, and are thus decidedly quicker and less painful to sit through than the latest Adam Sandler film to which you were dragged by friends (or so you claim).

The shortest short is in the animated category, with PES’ Fresh Guacamole clocking in at just under two minutes. In creating the titular dish out of everyday objects such as light bulbs and baseballs, PES demonstrates not just narrative imagination but also technical skill, as transformations are accomplished with wizard-like alacrity. Similarly light-hearted is David Silverman’s Maggie Simpson in “The Longest Daycare” which follows the adventures of the youngest Simpson at the Ayn Rand Daycare Center, and features an escape sequence reminiscent of Indiana Jones, accompanied by a brilliant-as-usual score from Hans Zimmer.

Timothy Reckart’s Head Over Heels, in which an elderly couple navigate life together while holding completely opposite world views—one lives on the ‘floor,’ the other, the ‘ceiling’—benefits from a delightful premise, though the claymation is a little rough around the edges (it’s no Wallace and Gromit). And the current frontrunner in the race—take note, all those participating in Oscar pools—is John Kahrs’ Paperman, which has gotten a big boost in name recognition thanks to its studio Walt Disney Animation. This is not to detract from the short’s excellence, which unites a saccharine tale of love with a new animation technique that gives more control to artists and animators.

The clear personal favourite, however, is Minkyu Lee’s Adam and Dog. It is difficult to put a fresh spin on a story as old as Genesis, but Lee accomplishes this confidently, through brilliant Miyazaki-like animation. The lushness of the Garden of Eden is captured in breathtaking textures—every still could be a watercolour masterpiece. The power of the storytelling is particularly formidable when one considers that the film is absent of dialogue; here, Lee’s virtuosity speaks for itself.

The live action category features a Canadian entry, Quebecker Yan England’s Henry. The short shares many similarities with Michael Haneke’s Amour, nominated for Best Picture and practically guaranteed to win the Best Foreign category. In addition to being shot in French, the two each portray aging musicians as they struggle with mortality, and the physical and mental decline that inevitably comes—though Henry is decidedly more sentimental. Don’t expect a statuette for England however; a win would be a long shot, despite Canada’s strong overall record in the shorts categories throughout the years.

Other nominees include Bryan Buckley’s Asad, a snapshot into the life of a young Somali boy as he struggles for survival in a war-torn country, with a cast entirely comprised of Somali refugees. Tom Van Avermaet’s Death of a Shadow possesses several strengths: a high-concept sci-fi premise, a beautiful steampunk-inspired production design, and the star power of Matthias Schoenaerts (Bullhead; Rust and Bone). But the short that hit home personally was Sam French’s Buzkashi Boys, a universal tale of hope and aspiration, set in the impoverished strata of Afghan society and framed through sport (Buzkashi is the national sport of Afghanistan; think polo, but replace the ball with a goat carcass). Under French’s lens, Afghanistan looks stunningly beautiful, even if evidence of the country’s tumultuous recent history is apparent in every shot. In a perfect world, Buzkashi Boys would leave the Kodak next month with gold.

Our world is far from perfect, however, and strong buzz surrounds Shawn Christensen’s Curfew. The writer and director also plays the lead role, as a twenty-something whose life is, quite literally, saved by the chance call of his estranged sister and his sassy niece. This category has rewarded films that situate effervescent, often nihilistic humour in bleak contexts, so Curfew seems perfectly poised to take the crown.

To an extent however, who will win the statuette is a pointless enquiry; every one of these shorts displays merit, talent, and artistry—and each deserves much more attention than they will inevitably earn.

The 2013 Academy Award Nominated Shorts start Feb. 1 at Cinema du Parc (3575 Avenue du Parc).