COHEN AND COWBOYS — A TALE OF TWO EXHIBITS
Start with A Crack in Everything, then see Once Upon a Time and stay late as you can
In February 2017, I, along with thousands of others, received an email message about an upcoming celebration of the late Leonard Cohen at the Musée d’art contemporain.
One of the installations in the exhibition A Crack in Everything would feature a group of men of a certain age, all of whom needed to be able to sing in tune and learn lyrics in order to record Cohen’s entire I’m Your Man album. Anyone who was interested was invited to apply.
At the time we were on a beach in Mexico where, often of an evening, we would sing along to the same Leonard Cohen, a favourite of our Irish cousins with whom we were vacationing. When I told everyone about this proposition, they immediately said: You have to do it. So I did. I filled out all the papers, printed all the lyrics and learned almost every song. Confession: I did not learn the lyrics to Jazz Police. If you want a reminder that Leonard walked on asphalt like the rest of us, listen to that tune. Might well be the reason he was sent to the Tower of Song.
In the shower, during my version of First We Take Manhattan, Jennifer Warnes comes in to shut off the water because I am just too damn good. When I try to defend myself, she says, “Oh yeah, well, try singing Joan of Arc.” I didn’t get chosen. I don’t think that rejection influenced how I felt about my visit to the exhibit.
Maybe it’s anticipation, the effect of hype that builds up expectations and sometimes overwhelms what we are seeing, but the truth is, I was extremely disappointed by my first peek at the exhibit.
You want conceptual, you got it, a thousand kisses deep.
A series of what feels like dimly lit boxes you walk in and out of, maybe not the first time because it is dark in there and the signage is not exactly obvious.
What is lovely about the show, of course, is seeing and hearing Cohen in concert and in interviews, speaking of his life and career and struggles. It made me feel like the show is not so much about the light getting in through the cracks but the sweetness of the sound flowing out.
I plan to return to see Clara Furey’s contribution, which unfortunately wasn’t scheduled when I was there. I also found the installation by the Sanchez brothers more emotional than the other boxes, though Cohen with his back to us sitting outside his office seems like a bizarre Saturday Evening Post cover: both inviting and borderline creepy.
I had just the opposite reaction to the new show at the Montreal
Museum of Fine Arts. Cowboys create no expectations in me, nor had I auditioned to be in this particular show, so I went with low expectations.
I was not a fan of the last couple of exhibits. Revolution had ambition going for it, maybe too much, especially its vague attempts at including selective Québécois elements — Robert Charlebois, of course, but what about Jesse Winchester and draft resisters? Missing in action.
And sorry, but I will never be able to understand management’s fascination with Jean Paul Gaultier’s wedding dresses.
Once Upon a Time… The Western is well titled, as the exhibit is filled with extracts from films. The show is informative without being pedantic. Its overriding intelligence walks the line between the Old West and new ways of thinking about all things western, particularly the representation of Indigenous peoples.
If you are a fan of westerns or even just have fond memories of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance or the film that many people think is the best western ever made — heck, one of the best movies ever made — The Searchers, then partner, you are in luck.
If you plan to take in both exhibits, which I encourage you to do, start with Cohen, then see Once Upon a Time and stay as late as you can. As they close the doors, start humming Closing Time to yourself as you leave. Voilà, the complete Montreal experience.
What is lovely about the show, of course, is seeing and hearing Cohen in concert and in interviews, speaking of his life.