NICOLA DREAMED OF ARRIVING IN A NEW DRESS ... IT SEEMED IMPOSSIBLE

It's not often a film production knocks this lad for a loop, but last week's
premiere of the Odd Squad's Through a Blue Lens did just that.

There were 1,100 of us, filling every seat in the Vogue Theatre, eager to
see what this group of Vancouver police officers had done with their film
footage.

Everyone knew they'd been chronicling the decline of downtown eastside drug
addicts and we were ready to be appalled.

No disappointment there. We met Carly, a cocaine addict mourning the
suicide of her boyfriend yet unable to stop ripping at her limbs. Visions
of bugs crawling under her skin led Carly to tear at her flesh with such
urgency that most of her left forearm was a weeping pit.

We were introduced to Randy, a heroin and cocaine addict so far beyond
control that writhing on public sidewalks and shrieking obscenities had
become a lifestyle.

Nicola's decline was documented, from highs that had her prancing about,
cursing at passersby, to lows that saw her starving, living under an
overturned shopping cart in a rainy doorway.

April was introduced to viewers as a pretty young blond woman, then
re-introduced months later as a wasted addict, face covered in scabs.

Darlene was filmed in such a paranoid state she would flop like a fish,
curl into a ball and flail at imaginary assailants.

All this in the middle of the street, with cars veering around her until
Odd Squad members managed to pull her to safety.

The horror was no surprise. I work the same area. I'm well acquainted with
the Blue Lens subjects.

What grabbed me was how the filming of this production had brought a crew
of hard-minded inner-city police officers from playing rough to caring so
deeply.

I'm not saying they were ever heavy-handed. It's just that policing in skid
row gets physical so often that members become used to struggling with
violent suspects, used to being attacked outright.

The rough play was mostly among themselves, though they did take time out
to toss yours truly into an alcove once or twice.

Heaven forbid that kind of fun should ever stop. And no reason to believe
it will -- the humour these guys carry with them is intrinsic, impossible
to fake and unlikely to fade away. Yet as articulate and entertaining as
the Odd Squad people were, another speaker simply took my heart away.

Nicola. The last bit of the film had shown her at her worst, dreaming aloud
in an alleyway, about being at the premiere of the film, in a nice new
dress. It seemed impossible yet there she was, at the podium, speaking
beautifully about how she'd fallen into addiction.

Nicola enrolled in a detox and counselling program four months ago and is
still clean. The Odd Squad members bought her an evening dress and helped
get her teeth fixed and now she's reconnected with family members.

I hadn't known. The last time I'd dealt with Nicky, she'd been rooting
through rubbish behind the Balmoral Hotel. She was high and wild on cocaine
and insisted on scanning my spiritual energy by twirling a bit of old coat
hanger dangerously close to my face.

Randy was there, at the after party, also clean and sober. Months back, the
Odd Squad boys brought his family into Vancouver to plead with him, and it
worked. The man I'd been accustomed to fielding insults from turned out to
be a likable fellow.

The rest of the subjects were there and not quite so clean but still
supportive -- knowing their agreement to take part in this project may well
make a difference.

For myself, I hadn't expected to come away with such a sense of hope. I
know I wasn't the only one.

The crowd was visibly stunned: some wept, others raved about the film's
content and quality of production, others were at a loss for words.

So, full marks for the Odd Squad members, their director Veronica Mannix
and the people from CBC TV, who will be airing the film on Dec. 8.

If this is the kind of creativity and dedication we can expect from the Odd
Squad, you can expect this columnist to stay tuned. I may even get
involved. Either way, I'll keep you posted.