Shows we can’t wait to see
The Journal’s team is eager to hunt for theatre thrills
The Journal has a team of eight reviewers and a roving reporter covering this year’s Fringe Festival. We asked them all to share what they’re looking forward to most at From Fringe With Love.
It’s the adrenalin of the binge that’s the biggest kick of the Fringe. How can you not get stoked by the thrill of discovery — and of not knowing in advance how you’re going to react when you see a couple of horror clowns dissect death for you (You Killed Hamlet, Or Guilty Creatures Sitting At A Play)? Then an original new play by and starring one of the country’s most original actor/creators as he approaches Canadian art history, brush in hand? In Assassinating Thomson, under the Monster Theatre flag, the adventurous Bruce Horak cuts a swath through a bona fide mystery, the disappearance of the celebrated painter Tom Thomson into an Ontario lake. Horak is the artist who brought us one of the most riotous, disturbingly brilliant cabarets ever, This Is Cancer, starring the Big C himself. I have high hopes.
I know it seems shallow to be intrigued-unto-obsession with the enigmatic comma after the title in Or,. It’s an American play of recent vintage whose lead character is the multisexual Restoration-era Aphra Behn, one of English theatre’s first women playwrights. And it’s brought to us by the director, Amy DeFelice, who has a certain quirky bent for plays with syntactical oddities; she brought us a play called [sic] a couple of seasons ago. Or, stars the charismatic Kristi Hansen, always a draw.
Liz Nicholls
The Fringe Festival is like a truffle hunt — finding a truly wonderful play is a rare treat, but when you root one up, you want to savour it.
One clue to a tasty morsel is a show with at least two actors.
While I’ve seen some spectacular solo gigs, such as last year’s riveting Dying Hard by Mikaela Dyke, I prefer to have real-life onstage interaction that lets us find out who these people onstage are.
I generally steer clear of improv acts. They can be fun and are hugely popular, but I’d rather see a fully formed play with plot and character development, although that’s not guaranteed in a Fringe production.
Of course, many shows at the festival are designed to make you laugh and succeed spectacularly.
The funniest thing I’ve ever seen on a Fringe stage was the astonishing flow of puns, verbal and visual lunacy, and bizarre storylines from The Pajama Men Mark Chavez and Shenoah Allen in 2006, still renowned (in my house at least) for their long riff on and off the phrase “horse snorkel.”
There are likely to be many delicious delights like this over the next 10 days. Keep your nose to the ground, and enjoy.
Gordon Kent
Wherefore art thou, Scott Shpeley?
Once upon a time, the rubber-faced actor and musician ruled the land of Edmonton as a member of Christian Hansen & The Autistics, a synthpop band cherished for its sly, danceable tunes such as Cocaine Trade and Pump It.
Alas, poor kidlets, Shpeley left the group in 2011. (The group also left us — for Toronto. Harrumph.) Since then, he hasn’t exactly been laying low … unless that’s what you call taking acting gigs in Calgary. (Joke!)
Luckily for us, he’ll be at this year’s Fringe — and I’m looking forward to seeing Shpeley
in The Bomb-itty of Errors (Stage 12, Varscona Theatre), a hip-hop retelling of William Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors, a farce about mistaken identities, unhappy marriages and revenge.
Shpeley will be joined by some of Edmonton’s finest rappers — iD, KazMega, and Khiry Tafari — and turntablist DJ Baggylean, directed by Sterling winner Dave Horak.
Bombitty boasts quite the pedigree — an off-Broadway hit in 2000, a grand prize at the HBO U.S. Comedy Arts Festival in 2001, and subsequent theatrical (Nerds) and TV (Robot Chicken) glory for its creators.
So, the only error Fringers can make is missing this production, yo.
Sandra Sperounes
Last year I wrote about looking forward to speeding on bicycle from venue to venue, and almost immediately got a flat tire.
So to not jinx it, let’s just say that in a busy summer in which the Fringe is the hectic crescendo, there’s nothing like getting lost in the politics and imagination of so many disparate, hyperactive and sometimes clearly damaged minds. Before the Internet came along and destroyed our attention spans for good, the Fringe was the best place to get washed away by such complete randomness. You never know what’ll be behind that door: the lady, the tiger or the tiger in drag juggling chainsaws. Read our reviews, but also take chances by closing your eyes and pointing at the schedule — I promise you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
Over tedious self-exposition and identity monologues, it’s easy to appreciate biographical and historical material, like this year’s Moscow Stations, The Legend of White Woman Creek and a local adaptation of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Musicals are usually a safe bet (there’s one of Carrie), and you can’t go wrong with Die-Nasty, Harold of Galactus, God Is a Scottish Drag Queen or Capital City Burlesque’s Elvis Odyssey. Special thanks to anyone who has the admirable humility to keep their shows at an hour or less.
Fish Griwkowsky
There’s nothing better than choosing a Fringe play at random, then finding yourself fully alert — and perhaps even pleasantly enlightened — at the end.
I don’t know what it feels like to win Powerball, but I suspect it’s similar. There are two ways to approach the Fringe: You can carefully construct a schedule extrapolated from reviews and verbal recommendations, or you can play the game of chance. The latter is especially fun during the Fringe’s first days, when the territory is new and wild, when good mixes with the exceedingly
bad, and when the critics have yet to weigh in.
Some may even compare this game to Russian Roulette: Choose correctly and you live another day. Choose wrongly and you’ll discover a fresh hell on Earth.
The thrill, for avid Fringers like myself, lies in discovering a gem among the lemons. It’s like a drug.
Along the same lines of uncertainty are the various improv shows, which can be a winner one hour and a total train wreck the next. Get Real starring Chris Craddock and Toby Berner could be fun. Die-Nasty, too. Or maybe An Apocalypse Survival Guide: Undead or Alive? Who knows. Stick a bullet in the cylinder, spin it and hope for the best.
Amanda Ash
THE BUZZ. That’s what I’m excited for, that’s what I need my fix of PDQ. Fringe buzz!
Which makes the festival sound like a drug, and makes me sound like a junkie. And maybe I am! A Fringe junkie, I mean, a weak creature who needs her annual hit of running-from-venue-to-venuedo-I-have-my-ticket-pleasedon’t-let-me-be-late-scoffa-few-mouthfuls-of-kettlecorn-on-the-way …
Oh sweet Fringe, running through the veins, tingling into the fingertips, numbing the lips, pounding at the temples and woaaaah-I-love-this-Imight-fall-down-now. It’s overload of everything: shows, crowds, bevvies, curries, men in spandex, so intense, and you’re woozy and snoozy and choosy and boozy and dang, where’s a Jacuzzi?
You find yourself living in this tiny postage stamp of a festival site, making it your home, hanging up clothes, having a favourite toilet stall, saying hello to your new neighbours.
Good morning, Mini-Doughnut Sugar-Shakers! Why hello there, Busty Bendy Busker and Clown-Nose-Harmonica-Honking Sidekick! Top of the afternoon to you, Persistently Bright-Eyed and Cheerful Handbill Distributor! You establish this new community, strangers who aren’t strange because you’re all in this together, you’re all in this adrenalin-exhaustionrotten-outstanding-mediocreun forgettable-magic-hurryhurry-tickets-please thang together, AMEN!
I couldn’t live this way forever. But I can live this way for 10 days.
Elizabeth Withey
Over the years, several friends have told me they thought I would make a good spy, so maybe From Fringe With Love will be my best Fringe yet. I’ve always felt a certain amount of stealth is handy in negotiating those crowds, especially when you have five minutes to reach a venue on the other side of Old Strathcona.
In approaching the experimental, we all like to think we’re open-minded. Audacity is OK, but it’s even better when the experiment works, when it’s thought-provoking or hilarious or it just grabs you.
My fondest memory from last year’s Fringe came with a kooky ensemble musical comedy that had plane crash victims dancing to an old Manfred Mann hit (thank you to Toronto’s Steady State Theatre Projects). I can’t recall ever laughing so hard at the Fringe, even though you felt a little guilty for laughing at an airline disaster scenario.
So taking off from there, what I’m most looking forward to at the Fringe this time is stumbling across something totally unexpected — and good. Whether it’s funny or tragic,
I want to see something that none of us would ever expect until it shows up in front of you.
Roger Levesque
Will any of these Fringe productions be good?
Maybe, maybe not, but these are a few of the ones I’m most intrigued by. I have no clue at all what the members of Capital City Burlesque have in mind with Space Ladies from Planet Elvis, hosted by the Starlite Room, but anything related to The King is cool in my books. They better do Crawfish is all I’m saying.
Carrie: The Musical meshes two things I love: Brian DePalma and Stephen King, with musical numbers. It takes place at La Cité francophone. Glamour and absurdism always seemed like a natural fit to me, which is why Waiting for Bardot by Guys in Disguise at the Varscona Theatre might be an option. It’s been way too long since Paul Matwychuk has shown up at the Fringe with a monologue, so Mexican Blindness at the Strathcona Library will be on my list.
I’m a big fan of street food, so I’ll be checking out a few kiosks, with special attention paid to anything unhealthily salty. I also like it when businesses get into the spirit without officially being part of the festival, like The Black Dog, which is hosting Hamlet, As Told on the Street. It’s paywhat-you-can.
Tom Murray
Call me the Fringe’s resident audience punching bag.
At last year’s Guys in Disguise show, I was targeted by a sinister Mary Poppins look-a-like who promised me spoonfuls of sugar but chugged rum down my throat (not once, mind you, but twice). And I was pulled onstage at one of last year’s Fringe hits, Burnt at the Steak, where culinary extraordinaire Carolann Valentino unloaded a fiery barrage of zingers my way.
Needless to say, I almost left the theatre both nights on a stretcher from a heart attack.
But the Fringe gods have tasked me with a new job this year as the Journal’s roving Fringe reporter, which will have me wandering Whyte Ave. for quirky stories.
And could anything be better? The highlight of every Fringe is walking the grounds, people-watching and relishing the energy.
So performers, keep your eyes peeled for the tall, lanky guy wandering the grounds and sneaking in bites of minidoughnuts. If you’ve got a story to share, feel free to fall on one knee and pitch it with an improvised poem.
Or better yet, if you’re missing an extra contortionist for your circus act or need someone to round out your comedy troupe, give me a shout. I’ve got the experience you need.
Alex Migdal