A performance about the future, optimism, and maybe being stuck in space.

Broadcast #1
We are in space. That much is clear. We seem to have forgotten how we got here. Or perhaps we never knew. We don’t know if we are on our way to some distant planet, or on our way home. We don’t know what year it is, or how many have passed. Perhaps a hundred, perhaps more. So we speculate. We consult palm readers and the bottom of vodka bottles. We don’t remember who we were before. I think I may have been a printer. Chad has a hunch he won the Tour de France seven times after a bout with cancer. Ame is still undecided, but suspects she left children behind.

Three friends sit in a small room waiting for their future to arrive. In the meantime they tell stories, sing songs, pass notes, and try to answer some questions. They are surprisingly optimistic, given the conditions outside, armed as they are with cheerful pop songs and over a millennium worth of utopias. Dancing, lip syncs and quiet beauty all fill the space as our heroes pass some time in the company of an audience.

Despite an almost overwhelming pessimism for the future, which many of us share,Perhaps in a Hundred Years endeavors to keep it upbeat, or at least tenderly, militantly, hopeful.

Perhaps in a Hundred Years mixes space rock show with confessional, talk show with theatre to create vital performance for the future.

Broadcast #4
We have given up on expectations. All predictions have been futile. Yet this giving up has seemed to improve our mood, since we are no longer disappointed. Having said this, we feel that is important for any one listening to this to understand that we have not given up hope. We are keeping the faith. Given that we are here, and have no reason to suspect that that will change, we continue to plot for a better future and damn the excuses. Chad has discovered a way to improve his neighborhood, Ame has worked out the next great political system, and I continue to get over my fear of singing.
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Some audience comments:

There are two kinds of performance: the kind that sucks and the good kind. Perhaps in a Hundred Years is the good kind, a very rare animal. Perhaps in a Hundred Years creates a massive respectful space for contemplation while still managing to be as entertaining as a good make-out session. What more could you want? You'll think, you'll laugh, you'll feel and you'll drink a beer. It's the kind of performance you experience with everybody in the room, leaving the impression that you've just hung out with a bunch of friends. At first you wonder if you have known these people all your life and then you are shocked to realize that you ARE these people. Perhaps in a Hundred Years gives the gift of the future.
- Darren O’Donnell

It is an August evening. People gather in a white room. We sit and wait. I stare out the open door in front of me that leads to a fire-escape. Three people - strangers to me but friends to each other - wait with us. A show begins. The premise is simple: these friends are thinking about the future. They also may be hovering in outer space. Or something like that. But I feel that I am in the same room as they are. I feel included in their hovering. They pass the time by playing us songs. Sometimes they dance along. They also play cards, talk a little bit, sing a whole lot. There is some kind of a manifesto. Or are they just setting the scene? They have a smoke on the fire escape. They run around the room. It ends. Somehow I have beer in my hands and I haven’t noticed the time go by. Nothing has “happened” and yet, I am riveted. I am moved. It is banal. It is everyday. It is embarrassing and brave. I recognize the beautifully pathetic in what keeps us going in life. I feel that I am watching “characters” but I also feel that I have gotten to know these three performers personally. Not in any particular deep way but more than if I had met them at a party. I like that. A lot. I don’t feel conflict between them but I think that I see them struggling with loneliness. I am not sure. This keeps me focused. I am certain that I see isolation. I also see them actively resisting. Resisting to what exactly, I can’t really say. But I feel an understated heroism. A heroism that I would like to think I share. Most of all, I feel privileged to be the witness of something honest, positive, contemplative, current and quietly simple. I leave the white room inspired. I would watch this piece again in a heartbeat. I sincerely hope that others will have a chance to see it.
- Brendan Healy

It was good. I think. I think I don't know what to think about it. Was it a show? I think so but what is a show? Did they present interesting ideas? Yes. Have I thought about the show since? Yes. It was a presentation of questions and ideas and music and silence and a little bit of magic. There were some really lovely moments in it, moments that they create and moments that one observes internally because of a question or a statement that they ask. If there hadn't been seating, it might have been an installation piece that one could walk in and out of. It was enjoyable to watch. Ame is really captivating to watch. It was weird to have a frame of reference for Jacob, and then to see him perform in a very real Jacob way, I guess that's it, that was Jacob, the answers to questions asked, the favorite songs, the ideas, they were Jacobs, he wasn't playing a character. He was Jacob in a show. Had I not known any of them, would I have thought it was scripted? I don't know. Does it matter? I don't know. I didn't really have a chance nor was the energy such to speak to them about the show, how does one comment on the presentation of something that is essentially the beliefs and ideas of the people in the show. A performance, a show but not the separation of character to actual self.... I am intrigued to hear their thoughts on the show, is it separate? A presentation of self times 3, questions and ideas in space with music and dance.... there’s my rambling thought about the show, it might change again as I think about it more. But it was a nice time. If that says anything, I would have gone back again, I'd see it again now.... and I’d see it again 5 years from now to see what things have changed for them.
- Louisa Adamson

It was the Tuesday after the Thursday that I came to see Perhaps in a Hundred Years. I had just returned home from an evening out. I wasn't bored – exactly – I don't get bored too easy but at the same time I wasn't sure exactly what to do next. I was tired and it was very late but I needed time to wind down before bed. I went into the kitchen and looked for a tea bag. I had lots of different kinds of teas- loose teas, teas in round pouches but I was looking for a specific kind of tea bag. I found it. The kind that's square with a staple in it. It was filled with Earl Grey with “real” Bergamont. I carefully uncoiled the staple, emptied the dry leaves into the green compost bin and reformed the tea bag material into an angular colum that I then balanced on a small salad plate. I lit a match and burned it. The last bit of material didn't “jump” or “fly” the way it had when I first saw this magical little trick when I saw Perhaps at Hub 14. But it made me glad all the same. Glad that people make things and let us watch them and then they resonate. Glad too that people dance like no one is watching...
- Erica Kypoto
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* created with the support of the Toronto Arts Council
** tour supported by the Interarts section of the Canada Council for the Arts