This is Tracy’s

I just returned from the most emotional, the most beautiful… the most extraordinary evening that I have ever spent at the theatre. Sometimes we are blessed with moments where the industry from whence we all spin melts completely away and we are no longer actors, entertainment lawyers, producers, filmmakers, Dora Award winning Canadian theatre legends, Genie Award winning Canadian film heroes, Gemini and Emmy Award winning television stars, theatre bloggers, playwrights and directors- but more simply a band of people, a community of light and love, with wide open hearts all moved to honour a friend, a wife, a sister, a daughter, an inspiration to us all. That was my experience at last night’s memorial for Tracy Wright.

Tracy Wright was a unique and beloved Canadian actor, best known for her film work, especially those that she worked on with her husband Don McKellar, but who also worked extensively in theatre, inspiring a generation of theatre artists through her work with Daniel Brooks and McKellar in The Augusta Company. Words evade me in the search for a precise adjective, a descriptor, because in watching Tracy onstage or on film, one was continually struck by the fact that she didn’t seem to need to act or pretend or to go through some convoluted artistic process… Tracy was. Tracy was the character, Tracy was human, Tracy was genuine, Tracy was honest, Tracy was heartbreaking, Tracy was beautiful, Tracy was exceptional, Tracy was hilarious, Tracy was there, every fibre of her being was engaged, was fastened in every individual moment and it made her, for audiences, utterly irresistible. Tracy passed away from pancreatic cancer on June 22nd, 2010 at the age of fifty.

Daniel MacIvor wrote a beautiful piece in The Star speaking about how he and Daniel Brooks and Don McKellar and Caroline Gillis had collaborated in the creation of her memorial, which he says was intended as “part celebration, part ritual, an invocation and a love letter, casual but rigorously theatrical.” MacIvor writes, “What does a person leave behind? A favourite pair of shoes, a book often read but never finished, a stack of CDs, a wedding ring, seven years of tax returns? Do these objects somehow add up to a human? A personality? An essence? This was the question that Tracy and Don McKellar and Daniel Brooks asked in 1995 in their show 86. A question that led the audience to a kind of catharsis while leaving us with many more and deeply personal questions — both disquieting and comforting — a hallmark of the work of their genre-defining theatre collective, the Augusta Company.” It was in this same spirit that Don McKellar wanted to honour Tracy, and so the memorial featured her friends and family members presenting objects, eighty-six in total, that belonged to Tracy and each person told a sweet story, or a funny memory, or gave a touching speech which infused every thing with depth and meaning and some essence, some evanescent ambiance of Tracy.

Daniel MacIvor, Daniel Brooks and Caroline Gillis hosted the evening, reminding me oddly of Frank, Charley and Mary at the end of Stephen Sondheim’s Merrily We Roll Along, a trio of geniuses whose rich friendship is rooted in mutual admiration, collaboration and optimism- the promise of a bright tomorrow. Except, under these circumstances, it was clear that a piece of the puzzle was missing and that, undoubtedly was Tracy. Yet, their dynamic together, the quiet encouragement, their gentle, yet still witty, retorts to make the others laugh, their love for her was intrinsic to every moment of the evening, and it was equally as clear that she cherished them just as much.

Tracy’s brother spoke beautifully of their childhood, describing Tracy as a “small girl with brown hair” and musing that she may have developed her sense of humour as a result of the jokes their father was fond of telling at the dinner table. Fiona Highet spoke about Tracy’s distinctive fashion sense and, in a particularly poignant moment, Caroline wrapped one of Tracy’s jackets around Fiona to keep her tears at bay. They shared Tracy’s adolescent love of Love Story, both the book by Erich Segal and the film, and the letter she once sent to Ryan O’Neal with her friends proclaiming him as their hero. O’Neal responded to the girls saying that there were many people far more worthy of being a hero than he, and thus, Tracy and her friends set out on a fundraising mission around the neighbourhood to raise money for Tracy’s aunt who was missionary and after a long while of hard work, the girls eventually took the money they had raised to the corner store and bought a pack of smokes. Ann-Marie Macdonald told about how she gave Tracy one of her favourite films, The World of Henry Orient, starring Peter Sellers and Paula Prentiss and Angela Lansbury, and how the relationship between the two girls reminded her of Tracy and the story of her friends and Ryan O’Neal and the fundraising and the pack of smokes. Tracy asked to watch the film again shortly before she passed away; it was the last one she ever saw. Daniel MacIvor and Caroline Gillis read from a notebook where Tracy was writing (very engaging) dialogue, MacIvor read from a Canada Council Grant proposal that Tracy didn’t get. Sky Gilbert spoke of Tracy as a theatre actress, a dream to work with and an honour to watch. We saw her black belt in Tae Quan Do, the piece of concrete she split to earn that black belt, we heard songs that she loved, a song that she sang, we watched videos of her beloved cat, saw pears from her hundred year old pear tree. Molly Parker showed us Tracy’s wedding ring and said how, on the set of Trigger, her last film, although she found the future to hard to even fathom, she was filled with a sense that in each moment, working with her friends on a film she loved, having just gotten married to the love of her life, she felt that her life was great. Her father-in-law, John McKellar, gave a gorgeous speech about the property they own in the country that she loved so much, where she requested that her ashes be scattered, in all the special places where her memories are fondest and her beautiful young goddaughter sang with the voice of an angel.  

Don, of course, spoke with the utmost eloquence, emotional passion and unbridled love about Tracy’s kindness, her concern for her friends, her fascination and curiosity about the world and her longing to share every wonder she encountered with others. It was that magic in Tracy that undoubtedly drew everyone to Hart House theatre last evening, her warmth, her light, her egoless generosity both in her work and in her life, she radiated a bright light, a brilliant strength and a sincere magnetism that made our community, the theatre and film community, a little bit more resplendent.

Tracy has certainly inspired me to embrace and trust in my own authentic self, to know that it will be beautiful, that it will be interesting, that it will be enough. We were treated to film footage of Tracy inter-spliced artfully throughout the memorial which allowed us to experience what I think is one of humanity’s most precious emotions, laughter through tears. The camera loved Tracy; it captured her in a way that makes feeling explode. I urge you to rent her films, to buy them, to watch them back to back in a Canadian film marathon, perhaps with your best friends, the love of your life, or your cat. You may cry, but even if you’re feeling sad, longing for her return to you, Tracy will force your hand with perfect timing, and you will be moved to laugh and to remember her with a smile.

I am very grateful to Don McKellar and Daniel MacIvor, Daniel Brooks and Caroline Gillis for creating such a fittingly artful and so utterly genuine memorial for Tracy and for allowing those who were not fortunate enough to know her well, or even personally at all, to have the opportunity to share in this celebration of the gifts she gave to the theatre and film community with all the people whose lives she touched.

There is a line in The World of Henry Orient where one of the girls says, “I don’t know whether I ought to or not, but I feel awfully happy… in a sort of sad way” and I think that captures perfectly for me how I felt about Tracy’s memorial. I feel so happy that, although too briefly, we had her in our lives, I feel so happy to know that friendship and love like she experienced exists so profoundly. I feel so happy to have sat in a theatre with her community, her people, and to laugh through my tears and to feel comfort in knowing that we are all kindred spirits here. I feel happy… in a sad sort of way.

You should go. Laugh through your tears.