Theoharis 'Harry' Standjofski

Celebrated actor, writer, director, musician, teacher, mentor, husband, father, brother, and treasured friend.

Harry was made of love, joy, laughter, curiosity, and wild imagination. One of the most influential and ubiquitous lights of the Montreal theatre community, Harry was one of those rare people to transcend cultural and language barriers to be a force for unity. His decades-long run of Urban Tales/Contes Urbains became a holiday staple and an annual testament to his uncanny gifts: writing, performing, and scoring the French show … then translating, scoring, directing, and performing the English version across town. Few are the artists in Canada who occupy a place of prominence and are so loved by both solitudes: as celebrated by Le Théatre Duceppe as by the Centaur; by Geordie Theatre as by Radio-Canada. To achieve that kind of standing requires more than great talent, energy and determination– which Harry had. It also takes a huge heart.

As a mentor, teacher, colleague or friend, he was as generous as they come: offering advice or coaching whenever approached, and lending his immense talent to countless fundraisers: there wasn’t a cabaret where we weren’t all spellbound by his virtuosity, outdoing Zappa with a single guitar and a half-dozen pedals. As an actor, he compiled an extensive list of credits, working in theatres across Quebec, coast-to-coast and overseas. On film, he worked with greats from Arcand to Scorsese. His voice has been heard on innumerable projects, and legions of gamers will know him from the many worlds of Assassin’s Creed. As a teacher for over thirty years, he was an inspiration to many, nurturing scores of actors and future artistic directors.

It was as an artist, however, that he shone most bright. His craft and sensibility knew no bounds. The characters he wrote were profoundly flawed individuals, but he never judged them; he would criticize but never condemn. To Harry, life was a work in progress: we were doing our best, but we could always do better. The characters he performed were thoughtful, grounded, and full of life. His direction was gentle and sparse, effective and supportive. At the end of a rehearsal day, you would often think “boy we sure talked a lot and didn’t seem to do much”. But then you’d look back and see how much good work had got done – just done in an enjoyable and human way. Whether directing or performing, he trusted the audience completely, and they trusted him in return. He elevated us, all while reminding us to remain humble.

In the minutes and days after his death, tributes poured in online from colleagues and acquaintances far and wide: a personal anecdote, a detailed portrait of an event, a gesture Harry made in their lives that affected them profoundly. Certain words recurring from story to story give a hint of who he was to those who knew him:

“kind… funny… generous… magical… reliable… larger-than-life… grounding… sensitive… talented… compassionate… hilarious… legend… génial… immeasurably funny… a light… fucking practical… a mensch… clever soul… chaleureux… brilliant… impactful… brillant… outstanding… a champion… a giant… a prince.”

Harry leaves a family bereft and a community in mourning. There is a hole in our hearts and we will have to learn to love that empty space. At the same time, come the fall of 2025, his latest play will premiere at Geordie Theatre and, aptly, tour the entire province. We will have the pleasure of hearing Harry’s ideas come to life once again, and because art triumphs over death, our friend will be among us.