Society generally accepts Darwin’s theory of evolution. Nevertheless, there remain pockets that deny its validity—the state of Tennessee, for instance, recently began teaching creationism in schools. With the origins of man still a controversial topic, McGill student Annabel Raby decided to direct Inherit the Wind: a play examining both sides of the current debate through a dramatization of the Scopes trial that addressed these topics almost 90 years ago.

Before the first line is uttered, the audience learns of the narrative’s focal point. A small-town courtroom in rural United States fills the stage, and the seating squarely situates the audience as attendees of the judicial proceedings. The lawyers address the crowd, imploring us to hear their case. This setup leaves the audience to do the jury’s duty. The cast of characters is varied, from hillbillies with slow drawls and banjos, to the outside visitors who comprise many of the play’s principal characters. The ethos of the town of Hillsboro itself is displayed on its church sign during one scene: “Think it’s hot here? IMAGINE HELL.”

Bertram Cates (Matt Smith) is a schoolteacher on trial for corrupting the minds of his young students by reading an excerpt of Darwin’s The Origin of Species. The soft-spoken intellectual doesn’t seem to merit imprisoning. Even the bailiff seems to agree, and allows him to meet his paramour, Rachel Brown (Katie Scharf), who, conveniently, happens to be the preacher’s daughter. Throughout the trial, she is torn between her fundamental Christian values and the man she loves.

On the eve of the trial, several outsiders arrive in the small town. Mary Harrison Brady (Emily Doyle), a three-time failed presidential candidate, is given a heroine’s welcome. No surprise here—she fits in with the rest of Hillsboro, a town where signs issue the stern warning, “Read your bible.” Doyle’s performance is nuanced and convincing: she handles both despair and witty repartee with ease. Her courtroom opponent is Henry Drummond (Samuel Steinbock-Pratt), an agnostic from the big city who the townspeople see as the devil incarnate. Another visitor is the deadpanning E.K. Hornbeck (Matthieu Labaudinière), a reporter who delivers some of the show’s biggest laughs.

For the most part, the production is both enjoyable and thought-provoking. The single drawback is the play’s narrative: it often feels like a rushed court case, and the conclusion wraps up somewhat abruptly. Nevertheless, individual performances carry the piece. Doyle and Steinbock-Pratt show themselves to be able performers, with adept interpretations of characters who are sympathetic towards each other’s positions, while remaining in vehemently proclaimed opposition. It was also pleasing to see subtle directorial touches evoke the rural Southern setting. A live guitar, banjo, and violin are used to frame a bygone era, while the people and crickets of Hillsboro chirp in the background of midnight encounters. In short, the atmosphere and acting make up for any shortfalls in the script.

The conflict in Inherit the Wind pits two concepts against each other: science and belief. The narrative itself doesn’t present either as the ruler over the other; it leaves it up to the audience to evaluate each position. Whether Bertrand Cates wins or loses is left up to you.

Inherit the Wind runs Nov. 21-24 at 8 p.m., Player’s Theatre (3rd floor SSMU building). $6 for students and seniors, $5 with a clothing donation.

The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn—Part 2, the conclusion to the popular vampire franchise, is a good movie. Not great—this is Twilight we’re talking about—but good. Yes, I’m just as surprised as you are.

The final Twilight film, directed by Bill Condon, is by far the best of the series. It’s also a vast improvement over Stephenie Meyer’s source material, a counteraction of Breaking Dawn’s cavernous flaw: the total lack of action.

The film opens with Bella (Kristen Stewart) reawakening as a vampire. As if by magic, or at least a transmogrifying venom, the franchise receives new life as well. As Bella says, she was “born to be a vampire.”

Kristen Stewart, at long last, emotes. She loves vamp husband Edward (Robert Pattinson) and newborn half-human, half-vampire daughter Renesmee. But beyond this, Stewart shows off a veritable flush of emotions—rage, pride, happiness—and they suit her.

Viewers also get the benefit of Bella-vision, the hyper-detailed view of the world through her supernatural eyes. Breaking Dawn amplifies what is, perhaps, the only strong feature of the saga: the visuals. The opening credits mingle enchanting and ominous images of evergreen, snow, and blood.  Even the special effects, save for one uncanny and nightmarish CGI baby, are stunning.

Breaking Dawn–Part 2, deals with the ludicrous parts of Part 1 quickly. Yes, Bella and Edward have a too-perfect, half-vampire baby with a laughable name; and yes, third wheel werewolf Jacob (Taylor Lautner) falls in love with said baby. Got it.

Danger arrives when the vampire mafia, the Volturi, assume Renesmee is an immortal child, a kid-turned-vampire capable of wiping out scores of people. They plan to kill her, so the Cullens set out over the world to amass vampire friends who will stand and fight. A good deal of the film features a parade of these international characters, who, though two-dimensional, help spice up the languid and brooding cast.

This said, there are holes in the already thin story line: a forgotten spy subplot, the unexplained origin of Bella’s vampire superpower, and the arbitrary timing of it all. Why do the Volturi give them ample time to prepare?

But with a couple of clever twists, Breaking Dawn has viewers in its fangs, and the film culminates in a cathartic bloodbath: complete with an operatic score, hellfire frame supernatural fisticuffs, slow motion duels, and faces torn in half. It’s a riveting action sequence, shocking for fans, and devilishly pleasing for those hoping for a Shakespearian level of gore to atone for all things Twilight.

Breaking Dawn—Part 2 wraps up the Twilight Saga with its strongest entry. The acting, art direction, and screenplay are at their apex. Of course, this may not be saying much. Still, the final Twilight film will certainly please fans, and perhaps even manage to entertain those who were dragged to it against their will.

Breaking Dawn—Part 2 is worth a watch for the visuals and action alone. Twilight ends with a film that at last has some bite to back up its bark.

In his youth, Julian Barnes’ bibliophilia took on near-pathological proportions. Much like the shoe-obsessed, 2011’s Man Booker prize winner would spend the vast share of his disposable income on books, driving from town to town in search of secondhand treasures.

“I bought with a hunger which I recognize, looking back, was a kind of neediness: well, bibliomania is a known condition,” writes Barnes in the introduction to his upcoming volume, Through the Window: Seventeen Essays and A Short Story. In retrospect, this was a fortunate pursuit.

Reading Barnes is akin to engrossing oneself in a finely wrought tapestry of historical fact, wry wit, and astute criticism. The collection of pieces, which were first published between 1996-2011, deals largely—if, at times, tangentially—with the literary. From casting doubt on George Orwell’s literary honesty as an essayist (if you, like myself, struggle when coming up with pithy titles, I urge you to note the wickedly humorous name of this chapter), to praising Hemingway’s portrayal of the failed and the frail, Barnes offers the reader a heady mix of culture and history.

Barnes’ prolific reading habits form the backbone of the collection’s pieces. When discussing France’s love of Kipling, he draws not only on an obscure roman-à-clef called Dingley, l’illustre ecrivain—impressive, if only because no English translation exists—but recounts the contents of André Gide’s diaries on the topic of its authors, in addition to delivering several lively anecdotes. And, while he takes several potshots at Britain’s historic rivals—in describing the Fashoda Incident: “In July 1898, eight French and 120 Senegalese soldiers arrived at a ruined fort… having spent two years crossing the continent to get there.Frenchly, they set off equipped with 1,300 litres of claret, 50 bottles of Pernod, and a mechanical piano”—Barnes expresses a deep love for his neighbours. Almost half of his essays address the importance of French culture.

Yann Martel, who released 101 Letters to a Prime Minister earlier this month, cuts an odd figure next to Barnes. Unlike the London-dwelling Oxonian, Martel studied at Peterborough’s Trent University and traded metropolitan life for the bucolic calm of Saskatoon. Yet Martel also received the Man Booker for The Life of Pi, and remains its highest-selling author by an impressive margin.

In 2007, Martel began sending noteworthy books to Prime Minister Steven Harper every two weeks, in hopes of expanding his world view (and, of course, garnering a healthy dose of publicity). 101 Letters comprises of the correspondence (almost wholly one-sided) accompanying these literary suggestions.

Martel’s focus is less Western than that of Barnes: from Austen to Borges, through to Xun to Yevtushenko, he delivers an alphabet of world literature in short, chatty snippets.  While Barnes borders on the esoteric, Martel flirts with the colloquial: it is as if he is explaining the importance of each book to a good—albeit semi-literate—friend.

Although a plainspoken account is helpful to burgeoning readers, Martel’s salt-of-the-earth tone verges on the fatuous. Judging from his recommendations, Martel has an exemplary literary pedigree. In spite of his breezy epistles, he has a thorough understanding of the world’s workings, and feigning simplicity does not become him. Cringeworthy lines, such as “Since we have more time, why don’t we go back in time” fill the letters like the lyrics of an ‘80s synth-ballad (an aversion to which may explain Harper’s lacklustre response). Equally frustrating are the letters which fail to address their accompanying books. In the dispatch coupled with García Márquez’ Chronicle of a Death Foretold, for example, Martel makes little mention of the book at all. Instead, he chooses to rehash Orwell’s famous Politics and the English Language, while omitting all mention of the essay itself.

Both Barnes and Martel have an undeniable love for the written word. If you’re seeking beautiful prose and depth of insight, opt for Barnes. Otherwise, for a lavatory experience garnished with a Man Booker winner, opt for 101 Letters.

There are the usual famous attractions—the view from Mount Royal, a stroll through Old Port, the obligatory late night poutine. Yet Montreal is a city of multiplicities that extend beyond its tourist tropes. The Canadian Centre for Architecture’s (CCA) newest project, ABC: MTL, offers an invitation to the deeper realities of Montreal.

While previous exhibitions at the CCA have focused on the city as an historical artifact, ABC:MTL speaks of Montreal as it is today—an evolving urban hub composed of various styles, structures, and social landscapes.

To meaningfully capture the nature of the metropolis, the CCA launched an open call for submissions in June 2012. Public submissions served as an integral feature in creating a comprehensive narrative that matched the CCA’s pluralistic vision.

Curator Fabrizio Gallanti notes that “for us, this is a form of democracy: the identity of one site is not the privilege of a few, but rather a perpetually unstable condition that is the result of a real polyphony of voices.” This perspective results in an exhibit from the everyman’s point of view, outside of the traditional top-down approach associated with urban space.

Out of 250 proposals, 90 contributions will be presented over the course of the project, which runs until March 2013. This longevity allows for ongoing submissions to accurately represent a city in flux. However, not all the submissions are new. Some works have been previously included in other galleries. Gallanti explains that ABC:MTL is “not obsessed with originality,” but rather concerned with how well the works describe the city today.

Videos, photos, architectural mock-ups, lectures, and performances constitute the first installment of the project, on view until the end of January. Together, they result in a mixture of media depicting the city’s most indelible impressions. The works touch upon both the abstract and physical elements of Montreal —the ephemeral hums and buzzes of daily life, the fleeting moments the metropolis holds, and the people, buildings, and places that define the present-day city.

The pieces range from immigrant interviews to cell-phone photography. Overall, the works remind us that Montreal is more than a city defined by numbers; it is its own unique entity with its own metabolism, heart, and life.

With the breadth of formats, the term ‘exhibition’ may be a misnomer.  Instead, ABC:MTL is a fully engaging experience. It is not a fixed exhibition, but an ongoing project with changing content. Public participation, lectures, and performances are equally valuable and relevant to the main gallery showing. An online component features all 250 works submitted, including a map that pinpoints the locations of the projects to promote city exploration. The complete project, therefore, encourages interaction and participation on all levels.

Discussion is also an important ingredient. Amidst the student protests of last year, the question of Montreal’s identity was thrown into the spotlight. ABC: MTL comes at a pertinent time of questioning who and what makes up its population.

“There was a high level of engagement, no matter what side people were on,” Gallanti notes.

ABC:MTL profits from this recent engagement, asking its audience to partake in self-reflection, conversation, and discussion. It’s a worthwhile visit; if not for its interesting aesthetic, historical and social qualities, then at least for inspiration. After all, they’re still accepting submissions.

ABC:MTL is showing at the CCA (1920 rue Baille). Public programs are mainly held on Thursday nights and weekends, with guided tours every Thursday at 5:30 p.m. (English) and 6:00 p.m. (French). Free admission for students.

Indie pop-rock band, Malajube—named after a mash-up of the words ‘maladie’ and ‘jujube’—has become somewhat of an icon in both their native Quebec and the rest of Canada for their musicality and ingenious approach to achieving fame.

An undeniably catchy blend of riffs, synths, and vocals makes the perfect recipe for a crowd-pleaser, attracting Malajube a following  both close to home, in the U.S., and as far away as Japan and Norway. They’ve become a fixture at music festivals, with previous appearances at Oshega, SXSW (and its Canadian counterpart NXNE), and countless other shows. Being able to unite those without a common language through a love of music is a skill that Malajube seems to perform effortlessly, with an entirely French repertoire.

Despite their success, the members themselves come from humble beginnings and played in various other bands before Malajube. According to Francis Mineau, drummer for the band, the group formed in 2004 “like any other band” and hasn’t looked back since.

Winning a Juno Award and garnering three Polaris Prize nominations, Malajube has released five full-length albums, with their latest being La Caverne (2011). For the recording of the album, the members went into hibernation in a cavern of their own—their personal, custom-made geodesic dome in northern Quebec—living in seclusion for months on end.

“It was the perfect place to not get bothered by anything because there wasn’t anyone else there,” says Mineau. Although the band no longer owns this hideout, Mineau hopes that they’ll consider experimenting with other ideas, highlighting that the experience may have been a singular one. “We tried it once and it was good but I think we should try something else.”

Since La Caverne, Malajube has been touring extensively and working on side projects, all the while staying true to their roots. The band has been praised for refusing to conform to the English norm for the sake of their non-Francophone fans. Instead of being intimidating, however, the language barrier actually strikes a chord with fans. Their lyrics encourage any English-speaking crowd to learn French, and fans can blissfully enjoy catchy tunes without needing to understand what’s going on.

Their last two concerts of the year, beginning this week, are Malajube’s last hurrah before the band take a short breather to work on side projects and come up with new ideas and music.

“[The break] shouldn’t be seen as a way to say that we’re tired of doing this,” says Mineau, indicating that they’ve still got their sights set on working towards the next Malajube album, sometime in fall 2013. “The plan is to make more music and to concentrate on a purpose—how we can offer something new.”

Malajube plays Corona Theatre on Wednesday, Nov. 28. Tickets are $28.15.