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Culture Theatre

Jon Kaplan was all heart, no ego

People in the Toronto theatre community have been doing a lot of hugging this week.

And thats appropriate. Because weve all lost one of our dearest, kindest, most supportive friends. And he was a hugger.

In fact, I cant remember simply shaking Jons hand, but we must have when we first met. It was almost 20 years ago, and I had just been hired as a theatre writer at NOW. Jon took me out for lunch on the Danforth (where NOW was then located), and we talked about how we would cover the busy Toronto scene together. Notice that word: together.

Jon was never territorial about what he wanted to review. No first-string or chief theatre critic ego. We always evenly divided up what we would review. Why? Firstly, because he was just nice. Secondly, he would catch whatever show I was reviewing himself, later. But finally, and most importantly, Jon knew that great theatre could be found anywhere. Not just in the big and medium-sized houses, but in a theatre school graduation production, in a theatre-for-young-audiences show, in a clown show. And especially in the thriving independent scene, which he championed from the start.

Having covered the scene already for more than 15 years, he had his favourite companies and artists. But he never imposed his tastes on me. Instead, he let me come to them unbiased, so when I later marvelled at a performance or a director, hed just grin, his eyes sparkling, and give me a bit of history about their work.

One of the sad things about our friendship is that, although we both saw hundreds of shows a year, because we reviewed different things we seldom went to a show together.

But we caught up at the NOW offices. In between his sorting press releases (Jon was super-organized), making phone calls and proofing the section pages, we would discuss theatre. What was good, and why? Should we rush to see a certain show before it closed? Who was an artist to watch and potential future cover subject?

If I liked a show that he didnt, he would scrunch up his nose a little and say, It didnt work for me. Never adversarial, never combative.

Later, when I got to edit Jons copy (always on time, always clean), I realized how deeply observant he was, especially about actors. Perhaps because of the brevity of the early post-internet NOW reviews, he got to the point of a review quickly and in a few sharp strokes captured the essence of a performance. Only later, when I saw the show hed written about, would I understand how perfectly and efficiently he had summed it up.

Because we saw each other so often at the office a couple of times a week I didnt regularly hug him. Only when one of us was going on vacation or returning from a trip did we do that.

And then, nearly two years ago, he took me aside to tell me about his cancer diagnosis. He seemed less concerned about his prognosis than how his absence during surgery and recovery would affect our workloads.

Im so sorry to be putting you through this! he said. Typical Jon, always thinking of others. He would also miss the Toronto Fringe, the first one in its history he wouldnt see.

We cried and hugged then.

In his last few weeks, uncertain about how his treatment would affect his energy, he said he still wanted to review at least one show a week. He couldnt be sure if would be up for evening performances, so he booked matinees.

Its good for people to see Im still supporting them, he added.

And he chose the final shows of his life carefully: Robert Lepages exquisite autobiographical show about cultural and personal identity, 887 a pair of deeply moving examinations of life and death, Theatre Rusticles Our Town and Soulpeppers Spoon River. His reviews of the latter two are imbued with a profound wisdom.

The last time I saw him, less than a week before he died, we talked about all three. He always stressed how the intellectual content of a show didnt matter to him as much as the emotional connection. And these three resonated deeply.

He clasped my hands first one and then both throughout. And before I left, we hugged for a long time and even kissed, which was difficult because he was lying down on his sofa.

Thank you, he said, looking at me clearly.

He didnt say what he was thanking me for, but I knew.

I know, I stammered, that Im not the most demonstrative person.

Yes, he said. And thats why it means so much.

That was Jon. Always getting to the heart of a scene.

glenns@nowtoronto.com

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