Lucia Frangione

At the return counter at Home Hardware, while screwing together a bracket I dissembled…blasted useless thing adjusts in three places but not the place I need. I get a phone call telling me I booked my first big film. I am shocked. Middle aged woman with zero union credits gets to play Ciaran Hind’s wife. (he will always be Caesar to me) How did I get that gig?! Everyone and their dog must have auditioned for it. I day dream it is because Ciaran came to see Espresso and being Irish appreciated my use of language and the Irish joke…

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As I walk up the street, my neighbour is in his backyard, tying up his fabulous tomato plants. I say “You must be Italian, the gorgeous fig tree, the grapes, the red rose, the peppers and tomatoes -” He smiles with pride. “Yes…Tony.” “I’m Lucia.” He nods, recognizing my heritage. “Ah”. And he hands me an extra Cuore de Bue seedling he has grown in an old coffee cup. “I have an extra one.” I gasp at his generosity! It’s a perfect example of an heirloom (ox heart) Italian tomato and of l’arte d’arrangiarsi. (the art of “making do”). Old coffee…

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Performing in my own semi-autobiographical play is akin to having open heart surgery while awake, filmed on youtube, with “comments” open. I feel very exposed because I am very exposed. And exhausted. The more mature I become as an artist, the more blood I leave on the floor. The more I realize the absolute need for alacrity of thought, focus, honesty. And it must have a psychological toll: revisiting actual times of trauma like that without the safeguard of being detached. I try not to go to the centre of the actual event, but when I say, “his chest has…

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A quick little note to say my cat is doing great, poor thing! Espresso opens at Pacific Theatre this Friday. Some nights are sold out, get your tickets while you can. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll drink your espresso straight up. 

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The wonderful thing about living at sea level is, the bike ride home is all downhill. If anyone was out tonight, you know it was balmy lilac and moon beams. Three jocular college boys right directly in front of me – pedal in shorts and retro Ts. At Cambie Street their conversation hits me as we all slow down for a red light. “She was wearing a white vintage wedding dress, dude, right in the middle of the street.” “How did you know it was vintage?” “Because…it had…like…ruffles. I’m tellin’ you it was freakin’ eerie. EERIE. She just stood there,…

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Every wall in my house is splattered with blood right now. Happy Mother’s Day. After an absolutely wonderful but exhausting week of rehearsals I come home to see the cat has for once not peed on my bed. I am so happy to see her sitting there, docile and dry on my quilt that I pick her up in my arms, kiss her on the head, forgive all, promise treats and walk through my door, whipping it shut to make sure she doesn’t change her mind. One has to whip the bedroom door shut because it sticks. Unfortunately and freakishly,…

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*Anne of Green Gables spoiler alert. Last night Nora and I end our bedtime chapter of Anne of Green Gables and I start to worry. A mention of Matthew’s health, a possible bank collapse and then a wonderful eulogistic conversation between Matthew and Anne…? My writer’s brain knows what is likely coming next in the plot. Nora listens, happily oblivious, kicking her legs and sipping her tea. Before I can close the book fast enough she catches a few words from the next chapter heading and asks, alarmed, “Mommy, does the next chapter say “death?!”” “Oh maybe, time to brush…

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Today in the rehearsals for my play – my character beat the hell out of Love. Literally. I got to kick furniture, pound walls, push, punch, smash, slap and pummel. Today my character also threw her lover down to the ground, ripped his shirt off and proceeded to do the “backwards cowgirl” (as I was informed by my fight choreographer – I didn’t know it had a name). Today my character did many things I don’t exactly do on a regular basis. It was embarrassing. It was uncomfortable. It was so not my cool calm lady-like self. It was –…

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I whip into the Pacific Theatre parking lot and see the infamous adorable baby blue bike. My colleague had mentioned this bike. She was gazing at it admiringly while backing up her beautiful VW…right into a post. Oh to be cursed with a passion for aesthetic. Life can get very distracting…and expensive. While thinking this and admiring the bike, I nearly plow into the post myself. I pat my little Mini the Blue lovingly on the boot with a sigh of relief at the close call. I fly under the poster above my head and open the big heavy front…

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Tonight I had our creative team over for dinner, and Ron Reed, the AD of Pacific Theatre. I served a five course Italian feast. (eggplant cannelloni a surprise hit, the panna cotta rubbery but edible) I wanted to introduce them to some of the foods I mention in Espresso. It was a wonderful evening. And one of my favourite things about this sort of gang is the generosity. We spoke of other friends we loved and admired and reminisced. In particular tonight we spoke of Evangela Kepinsky, JP Allen and John Voth. I have many fantastic stories about them all,…

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