Reviews: Titles "O" through "W"

AN OAK TREE (STAGE 3)
Okay, I’ve never seen a Fringe show like this one before. Dave Clarke plays a hypnotist, while a “guest performer”—at the show I attended, it was Patricia Casey—plays his subject, the father of a little girl that the hypnotist has hit and killer with his car. The guest performer has not seen a script, nor have they ever seen a performance of the show, but it’s not an improv show—Clarke gives the actor some basic instructions half an hour before curtain, and periodically supplies him or her with pages of dialogue. In other words, it’s a show where one of the actors is hearing the story unfold at the same time as the audience.
It’s an intriguing concept, but it gets lost underneath layer after layer of postmodern trickery—at one point, Clarke asks “Casey” what she thinks of the show, and she reads her answers off the printout in her hand. And the underlying story about the dead girl and the grieving father is told with an unnecessary amount of obfuscation. But I hesitate to write off a fascinating ongoing theatrical experiment like this one on the basis of one semi-successful run-through; with upcoming guest actors like Jeff Haslam, Andrea House, and Trevor Schmidt, anything could happen. —Paul Matwychuk
3 STARS

OCCUPIED (STAGE 3)
Occupied starts innocently enough, with a businessman, played by Joel Bazin, sitting on the floor of the men’s room at an LRT station. One moment he’s pondering the virtues of margarine, and the next he’s trying to recount, minute by minute, his morning so far. Then a bossy female lawyer (Daneel Irons) barges in—the women’s washroom being out of order—prompting both characters to marvel at the “unprecedented” nature of their situation. Three other characters eventually put in appearances, all of them doing double-takes when they realize that, hey, there’s a girl in the men’s room.
The sitcommy premise works for a little while, but Occupied gets sloppier and more predictable with each new character, especially the homeless man with an intentionally bad accent. Jadon Rempel scores some choice one-liners as a former homeless man and present-day janitor, but he can’t keep this bathroom comedy from... ahem... stalling.
—Alejandro Moreno
2 STARS

THE OFFICE TOWER TALES (BYOV A)
It’s Christmas in Edmonton, but the snow is no match for the heat of a downtown office party where a rising star is putting the moves on the new girl. Alice Major, Edmonton’s first poet laureate and the author of these stories, takes on the persona of PR girl Sheherazad, who describes with wonder the sexual proclivities of the male animals who make their homes in the cubicle zoo. Major’s quiet but observant narration sets the scene as the tension develops between the various characters.
Edmonton actor Amy Berger—making a welcome return to the stage after a prolonged absence—commands centre stage as the receptionist Aphrodite, who argues that women really do have the upper hand. She is also enjoyably single-minded as the office Romeo, a strutting red-haired rooster who is ultimately knocked off his perch. Veteran local actor and musician Michele Brown, establishes clear voices for each of her characters, most notably the mysterious Xtabe, an unexpectedly strong force of nature that can’t be tamed, not even by an Edmonton winter.
3 STARS

THE OFFICIAL NAPOLEON DYNAMITE DANCE CLASS (BYOV C)
I wrote an enthusiastic review of the film Napoleon Dynamite when it came out, little realizing how sick I’d soon become of it—I’d pinpoint the date sometime early in 2005, around the time I saw my 100th “Vote for Pedro” t-shirt and saw those Napoleon Dynamite talking pens for sale at Urban Outfitters. And I’m afraid eager-to-please writer/performer Darren Boquist’s behind-the-curve one-man show, doesn’t do much to revive my original fondness for the character.
Boquist doesn’t play Napoleon; he plays Bob, a bitter but earnest dance instructor who claims Napoleon ripped off his signature moves, thereby stealing the fame and fortune that were rightfully his. The plot gets murky from there: Boquist’s other characters include a vengeance-seeking Latino, a sassy black woman, and a talking wig; meanwhile, in a charmingly low-rent touch, Boquist uses a remote control to play music cues and Napoleon Dynamite dialogue excerpts on a nearby laptop.
The show’s frenzied pace lacks the carefully timed deadpan absurdity that was a large part of the original film’s charm. And the talking wig really lost me. But my biggest concern is the possibility that Boquist might return next year with a Borat play. —Paul Matwychuk
1 STAR

OLEANNA (STAGE 9)
What is a term of art? That is one of the important questions you should keep in mind while watching David Mamet’s battle-of-the-sexes argument-starter Oleanna, about the increasingly antagonistic relationship between a college professor (Cody Porter) and his confused student (Allison Leggatt). There is no definite truth, Mamet argues; without context, any word, any action, any exercise of power or sexuality can be manipulated by anyone to mean anything.
You don’t need me to tell you that Oleanna is masterfully written: it contains Mamet’s most Pinteresque dialogue, and while the setting of the story (the “political correctness” wars in ’90s academia) is slightly dated, the issues this story raises are not. The real news here are the wonderful performances by Porter and Leggatt, who draw all the underlying meanings out of Mamet’s disjointed, suggestively unfinished sentences. By design, Leggatt doesn’t register quite as strongly as Porter in the first two acts, but her character acquires great strength by the climax. Porter is also consistently on point as his character’s confidence gets gradually shaken, his complacent composure soon giving way to rage.
Oleanna is one of this Fringe’s must-see plays, and will have you thinking long after the lights have come up. —Ramin Ostad
5 STARS

ONE WORLD SONG (STAGE 6)
This is not a show, but you may want to see it anyway. Lester Lee starts the proceedings by apologizing for his failure to theatricalize the gruesome situation in the Darfur region of Sudan, as was his intention when he started working on this show about a year ago. Instead, Scott Garland and Louise Casemore step forward and relate a few of the shocking stories they discovered during their research. Some stories come straight from the books they consulted; others are adaptations they planned on including in One World Song before the show’s original conception was abandoned; all of them are brutal reminders of the horrors still taking place in Darfur.
Garland and Casemore’s readings are powerful and reserved, and the stories are emotional enough on their own to not need any artifice in order to be effective. If Lee’s ultimate objective was to raise awareness, One World Song is no failure. —Alejandro Moreno
3 1/2 STARS

OUR ROOTS ARE SHOWING (BYOV Q)
Twiggy, Justine Tyme, and Devon Mills have the audience wrapped around their impeccably manicured fingers from the opening moments of this old-school drag-queen cavalcade that’s one of three shows at this year’s Fringe from Guys in Disguise.
Whether it’s Ms. Tyme’s Reba McEntire waling away like a southern belle on steroids, or Ms. Mills’ Céline Dion belting out those high Cs the laughter and applause don’t let up for a moment. You don’t have to drive a Mercedes to pick these chicks up; as they inform the audience, you just “have to be hung like a horse.”
Just be prepared to join in the show. Not that you’ll have much choice in the matter—and I wouldn’t recommend resisting theses ladies’ requests. Especially Twiggy (or, as she’s known when she takes off her gown, James Ross). She may look innocent, but heaven have mercy on anyone who gets on the wrong side of her wig. —Andrew Paul
4 STARS

THE OVERNIGHT (STAGE 6)
Matt Alden, who had a big Fringe hit a few years ago with the romantic comedy Real Time, is one local playwright you ought to keep an eye on; while some plot twists are a little too convenient, The Overnight is still a well-written comedy with a wonderful pace. Alden also contributes a very good performance as the titular character, an overnight DJ at an ’80s radio station, and he’s superbly accompanied by Kirsten Harvey and Jamie Cavanagh. The three of them riff off each other entertainingly throughout the entire play.
Murray Utas’ sure directorial hand can also be felt in small details, like the way the characters bring such a precise illusion of physical weight to their imaginary radio equipment—it’s easy to be fooled into thinking the surface of the table really is wired to the sound booth. Of course, some of Utas’ touches are right in your face, like the phenomenal use of the shadow screen that occupies about a third of the stage.
Of course, jokes about the ’80s abound in The Overnight. So whether you’re a consummate fan of ’80s music or a sworn enemy, The Overnight has you covered. —Alejandro Moreno
4 STARS

PAGLIACCI (BYOV H)
High art does exist at the Fringe amidst the drag queens and the sketch-comedy dick jokes—take this production of Pagliacci, for instance, which takes place, appropriately enough, beneath a tent. (It’s all part of Mercury Opera artistic director Daria Parada’s mission to make opera more accessible by performing it in unusual spaces. The contrast of conductor Mark Hyczko leading an outstanding orchestra in formalwear and a somewhat ragged-looking cast and set got me excited immediately. I wasn’t sure quite what to expect, but from the prologue, sung by bass-baritone Roland Burks, even the plebes like me were sitting upright in rapt attention.
Colourful wigs, cartwheeling dancers, and projections on the roof of the tent create a Coney Island carnival setting for this tale of a jealous husband who performs in a commedia dell’arte troupe. The venue did present occasional sightline issues and small logistical problems, but they hardly matter when such divine sounds are being produced. The principal players were exceptional, and each got a moment to grab the audience (and I was literally grabbed a couple of times). If you don’t speak Italian, read the plot synopsis before the show and enjoy a taste of the Fringe at its most sublime. —Caitlin Fulton
4 STARS

THE PARTICULARS (STAGE 6)
Gordon (Simon Bracken), a mild-mannered office worker, has been laying awake for nights now. You see, Gordon has an extremely acute sense of smell and an even stronger sense of hearing. And a few days ago, a contractor filled his home with poisonous vapours after varnishing all of Gordon’s baseboards. It was around this time that that incessant scratching noise began in his kitchen.
It’s easy to think that you’ve got Gordon figured out in the first five minutes of The Particulars. He’s a reserved fellow with a strong moral code who thrives on his daily routine. Wednesday nights are Gordon’s party night—that’s when he goes to the club and busts out the wicked dance moves he learned from playing Dance Dance Revolution. But what we don’t know about Gordon is whether he’s always been this way or if some later tragic event is to blame.
This is a play that looks at the dire consequences of letting the “magic” slip from your life. Somewhat reminiscent of Morris Panych’s play Earshot, The Particulars is funny, tragic, and a pleasure to watch unfold. —Andrew Paul
3 STARS

POSSIBLE WORLDS (STAGE 11)
A strange crime is stumping detectives; meanwhile, a man slides through various alternate universes in search of the one he loves. This is the broad plot structure of John Mighton’s 1990 intellectual thriller Possible Worlds, which uses ideas borrowed from Descartes and mathematical philosophy to examine humanity’s search for existence and meaning. (You may have seen Robert LePage’s 2000 film version, which features Fringe favourite Rick “MacHomer” Miller in the cast.)
This is a crisp, professional-looking production with a young cast that does a surprisingly good job of navigating Mighton’s more rarefied themes. However, the attempts at comedy fall flat. The result is an unbalanced play in which the sombre, chin-stroking elements overshadow the equally important lighter touches. —Jeremy Schiff
2 1/2 STARS

THE PRETENORS (BYOV K2)
These guys been doing this show—or at least some version of it—for the past 14 years. Having never seen them before, despite that little squishy spot in my heart for opera, I was thoroughly surprised at how friggin’ entertaining this satirical portrait of the once world-famous tenor trio (except for that Carreras guy—more like José Whocarras! Am I right, people?) ended up being.
The jokes centre mostly around the girth of Kieran Martin Murphy’s Luciano Paparazzi—and for the life of me I cannot fathom how this man can wolf down slices of pizza, French loaves, and licorice mid-aria and still belt it out note-perfectly just seconds after swallowing (and sometimes while still chewing). And while The PreTenors’ repertoire all sounds kinda sorta familiar (there haven’t been any really decent “new” opera tunes on the radio lately, after all), this updated version of the show adds a medley from West Side Story into the mix. (“I Feel Pretty” is a particular highlight.) If you like opera, The PreTenors should be on your must-see Fringe list. Every year. —Fawnda Mithrush
3 1/2 STARS

THE PRINCESS AND THE PEA (STAGE 12)
No time is wasted in this retelling of this classic fairytale. Within minutes, not one, but three weddings are staged, although none of them reach completion because the picky Queen Minerva, portrayed with delicious haughtiness by Ceris Backstrom, is intent on finding the perfect future princess for her son.
The enthusiastic young cast, all of them under 14, are a joy to watch, as is the hilarious script, which gets a lot of comic mileage out of giving these kids some notably grown-up lines to deliver. The old-married-couple bickering between Minerva and King Reginald (Rory Burns) is priceless, as is pipe-smoking Reginald’s declaration that smoking tobacco is “first-rate”—this from a lad who appears barely tall enough to reach the cashier’s counter at the grocery store. Even the set changes are amusing, with the servant girls prancing and self-consciously posing with their trays. There’s not a single moment where anyone in this huge 21-person cast loses their place in this quick-moving play—a testament to the kid-wrangling skills of directors Alyson Connolly and Elaine Dunbar. —Janet Ngo
3 1/2 STARS

THE PUMPKIN PIE SHOW (STAGE 7)
This high-energy storytelling session starring Clay McLeod Chapman and Hanna Cheek features what just might be the weirdest characters at this year’s Fringe. And that’s saying something. Actually, it might feature two of the Fringe’s most fearsome actors as well: the energy in this show is so intense, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or worry that Chapman would leap into the crowd and start throwing chairs.
In “The Late Bloomer,” Chapman teeters on the brink of madness as he describes the lustful awakening of the most primal urges of the male adolescent during their discovery of that mysterious octopus creature known as the Vagina. Meanwhile, in “The Overbite,” Cheek plays a young carny in search of true love—her seductive air would be sexy if she weren’t describing her nasty habit of devouring her lovers’ tongues.
All the stories are drawn at random at the start of the show from Chapman’s book Rest Area, which means no two shows are the same, and after watching one performance, it’s hard not to want to return to see what other twisted tales these two have in their arsenal. Don’t miss this one. —Andrew Paul
4 STARS

PUSHIN’ UP DAISIES: A MUSICAL (STAGE 11)
This over-the-top, musical campfest will leave you with a dark grin. A serial killer, inspired by the bizarre moral justice dished out in cartoons, is on the loose, determined to bring “cartoon” justice to the city streets. Meanwhile, Amy is trying to end an unsatisfactory relationship with the detective obsessed with catching the killer. Add to this a few chance meetings, and several upbeat song and dance numbers about murder and ethics and you’ve got a warped, funny 75 minutes.
There’s some especially effective stage lighting amidst the cheerfully silly dance number that evokes the gritty, stylized atmosphere of an old detective novel. It’s a fun, playful show that’s perfect for casual Fringegoers, assuming they have suitably twisted minds. —Jeremy Schiff
3 STARS

PUTTING IT TOGETHER (STAGE 1)
Stephen Sondheim is tough. He’s known for making music that challenges actors—all disjointed key changes and unnatural tempos. But he also makes musicals that even self-professed musical-haters can enjoy. It helps that Sondheim has a finely tuned acerbic wit—oh, and also that he’s kind of a genius. Which means two things for a show like Putting It Together, which takes a smattering of Sondheim songs and molds it into something resembling a narrative. It means that if they can pull off the music, the show will be good, because they’re working with gold. But if they can’t, not even the lyrics can save them.
Luckily, this talented cast rises to Sondheim’s challenge, and his genius. Each singer is more than capable not just of keeping up with the music, but also giving it life despite the absence of a real plot. And that’s ultimately where this show’s weakness lies. The more it tries to rope the songs (which are tied so inextricably to their original dramatic context) into a new story, the more schizophrenic the show feels. But as far as Sondheim revues go, there ain’t a lot to complain about. Well, it could have been 15 minutes shorter. —Greg Hudson
3 1/2 STARS

QUESTION (STAGE 9)
Question is like one of those made-for-TV movies that you were forced to watch in health class—yet somehow it just steers clear of total cheese-dom.
We’ve all seen (and heard and read) countless versions of the high school “searching for identity” story, so the conventions are well-known. This performance follows those conventions a little too closely, and I question whether Josh Languedoc, the play’s writer, director, and main character, has actually resolved his own issues of identity.
The performance by Sean Bedard is spot-on, with perfect timing and delivery; he also deserves special praise for his Napoleon Dynamite-esque dance routine (though I think it only goes over so well because of his bright purple gym shorts). Languedoc’s acting is as earnest and honest as his scrip—yet sincerity only takes a show so far. Also worthy of mention is Kyler Baxter, who nails his role as the kind of chauvinist loudmouth in whose company all of us have had to spend many miserable hours. I also commend his beer-bonging abilities.
It’s not particularly enlightening, but Question is entertaining, and I guarantee it’ll generate animated post-performance conversation about your own high school days–or at least those cheesy movies your teachers made you watch. —Melissa Priestley
3 STARS

QUINN’S DEATH (STAGE 4)
Anna Paquin is in this play! But not the Anna Paquin you’re thinking of—the girl from X-Men and that movie about the geese is not, in fact, slumming at the Edmonton Fringe. Nope—this Anna Paquin is the energetic local gal who plays Quinn, and unfortunately Quinn’s going to die today. Irritatingly, though, it’s never revealed why, when, or how she’s going to pass. Even Bob the Reaper (Alexander Forsyth) is getting pissed off. He gets a message from Reaper headquarters that he’s supposed to wait to take Quinn’s soul—and so we wait with him. Tick, tick, tick. You could wait around forever with this play, without a single insight into the characters, idea about death, or even provocative observation about life ever showing up—and the twist at the end makes the whole thing seem even more pointless.
Lindsay Goodwin’s script has an okay one-liner or two about Alberta’s climate, but for the most part the dialogue is predictable and the characters fail to develop. (Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less if Quinn ended up kicking the bucket, or if Bob got his promotion.) The ending doesn’t make much sense, either. It’s a Stephen King sorta move: you develop an idea for 50 minutes and then try to wrap it all up by throwing in ... uh ... let’s see ... how about ... a lamp monster! Maybe if the play were about “real” people instead of dead ones, Quinn’s Death might have had a bit more life to it. —Fawnda Mithrush
1 STAR

QUIXOTE (STAGE 9)
Quixote is a mistitled show. While it contains elements and characters from Miguel de Cervantes’ tale of the wannabe knight who battles nonexistent evils, Erik de Waal’s one-man show is actually the story of John, a psych ward patient who believes himself to be Sancho Panza, Quixote’s sarcastic sidekick. The story switches back and forth between John’s awareness of life in the asylum and his illusions of high fantasy, but neither of them are all that interesting to watch.
Part of the problem is de Waal himself. While he’s got an engaging presence, he’s not the most varied performer in the world. Now, this would be fine if he were playing one character, but as John, Sancho, Quixote, and the various Spaniards that Sancho and Quixote encounter, de Waal comes off as extremely one-note.
The other issue is that the story is uneven as hell. The first section of Quixote consists of a couple of boring tales about Sancho and Quixote that go nowhere, while the last moments are devoted to a misplaced speech about world suffering that feels entirely tacked on. Sadly, this show feels lost in La Mancha. —Ramin Ostad
2 STARS

RAINER HERSCH: ALL CLASSICAL MUSIC EXPLAINED (STAGE 1)
This monologue—firmly in the tradition of “big topic comically oversimplified”—uses live piano, a multimedia slideshow, and even floppy, Bob Dylan-esque flashcards, but still feels somehow stretched for content. Hersch, a good-natured and well-intentioned Englishman, is likable enough, but the show leans almost entirely on threadbare comic premises: symphonies are long, Americans are dumb, didgeridoos sound weird, and so on. At various points Hersch plays the piano, clarinet, and recorder, but even these technical bits feel overlong and out of place—he’s too talented to oafishly deflate the classics, and at the same time not talented enough to put the audience in genuine awe.
Hersch does score one or two clean hits, including a nice graph illustrating how Verdi kills more characters per minute than Saddam Hussein killed Kurds (“Oh, Verdi,” the girl beside me muttered. “It’s so true!”), but ultimately this is a niche piece that doesn’t effectively target either the experts or the greenhorns. —Michael Hingston
2 1/2 STARS

REDBIRD (STAGE 11)
According to the playbill for Redbird, the goal of this production is to provoke thought, not dictate a moral. And the script by actor/playwright Joel Crichton certainly provides plenty of topics to think about: this tale of an insurgent group determined to detonate a bomb every day until their demands are met touches on terrorism, child soldiers, media spinmeisters, police brutality, religious fanaticism ... and I’m sure I probably missed at least half a dozen more.
Still, Crichton balances it all out with just the right amount of comedy, and he’s careful to fashion the storyline so that it applies not to any one particular real-world event, but to broad issues affecting countries around the world. This is a sharp, high-energy mind-bomb of a production that’s both entertaining and challenging. —Jeremy Schiff
4 STARS

RESPECTING THE ACTION FOR SEDUCTION: THE BROWNLEE AFFAIR (BYOV A)
My knowledge of this particular corner of local history is scant, so I’m proud to say I came out of this show feeling fully informed about this juicy tale that unfolded within the Alberta legislature in the 1930s, supposedly one of the most scandalous events of the period. Let me fill you in on the details: it’s the story of an affair between Premier Brownlee and his secretary, a young Edson girl named Vivian MacMillan, and the subsequent lawsuit she launched against him. The script by David Cheoros and Karen Simons quotes extensively from archival material and gradually makes a convincing case that a relationship really did exist between the prominent married man and his much younger inamorata.
At the same time, the script merely skims the surface of the possible drama and conflict between the two lovers. The actors are well cast: Kirstin Rasmussen’s young, emotional, yet calculating Vivian complementing Steve Pirot’s measured and somewhat dispassionate Brownlee. The two actors also play a few peripheral characters who are never given quite enough room to develop in the limited running time. I appreciated the simplicity of this production, but was hungry for a deeper exploration of the drama that lies beneath those musty court documents. —Caitlin Fulton
3 1/2 STARS

ROCKET SUGAR FACTORY (STAGE 1)
The best improv isn’t chaotic, at least not entirely—you need to have firmly established laws that govern the scene’s universe, and only within those parameters can the performers truly go batshit crazy. Jacob Banigan and Jim Libby, the two men who dreamed up Rocket Sugar Factory, understand this principle perfectly. It’s probably why they’ve added a brilliant new layer to the whole process: a board game! “The Great Race Pursuit Chase,” as they call it, means that they’re competing against one another to create the best ongoing storyline, all the while incorporating audience suggestions and (occasionally) trying to sabotage the other person’s scenes.
Banigan and Libby—the former an Edmontonian expatriate, currently working in Austria—are both terrific improvisers, affable without adopting the overly wacky emcee shtick that plagues many a Fringe performer. Plus they get the added advantage of being able to incorporate board game culture into the act—after a particularly lucky roll by Libby at the show I saw, Banigan fumed, only half in jest, “I hate this game!” For anyone who’s ever dealt with a particularly hostile Monopoly player, Rocket Sugar Factory is pure, ecstatic catharsis. —Michael Hingston
4 1/2 STARS

SAD VICTORIA’S PELICAN DAY: a
picturesque adventure from the mind & music of Bryce Kulak (STAGE 11)
See Battle!

SCRATCH (BYOV E)
How does one review an improv show? (Especially when you don’t want to give away the ending?) You won’t see the same show I did, which makes me jealous. Not because the show I saw wasn’t good, but because I want to see what else these guys can do. If my experience is anything to go by, expect to see Kevin Gillese and Arien Konopaki building an hour-long homage to a movie suggested by the audience, incorporating elements that are also, of course, supplied by the audience. To be fair, the show I saw didn’t look much like Run Lola Run, but then again, I’ve never seen Run Lola Run.
In any case, Gillese and Konopaki work beautifully together, perfectly in tune to the other, constantly switching places and never allowing the show to drag. Extra kudos to Mo Sarda, who supplies the music in real time, scoring the action perfectly with the right dose of irony. So how do you review an improv show? You say if it’s funny, I guess. Scratch is funny. —Greg Hudson
4 STARS

SEE BOB RUN (STAGE 7)
Meet Roberta, but you can call her Bob.
She’s a confused young girl, but that’s understandable; she’s had a rough life. Her evil witch of a mother kicked her darling father out of the house, just because he loved Bob more than he loved her. Or was that really the case?
Rare is the young actress who hasn’t done a production of this Daniel MacIvor monologue at some point—a fact that speaks both to the resonance of this character and to the shortage of meaty roles for young women.
Now it’s Jodi Sadowsky’s turn. Her Bob is sort of a bizarro-world Holden Caulfield: she hates honesty, and finds virtue in maintaining a façade—so much so that she hitchhikes across the country just to flee a terrible secret. Her goal: find the only man who ever really loved her—her dad. The connections between Bob’s twisted delusions and reality are not always apparent, but if you read between the lines there are many hidden meanings to be found.
As directed by Christine MacInnis, this production is a well-crafted web that strings the audience along nicely until the disturbing conclusion. —Andrew Paul
3 STARS

SEV (BYOV E)
The main challenge of a one-man show is making the audience forget they’re watching a one-man show. In this one-hander, Fringe favourite Charles Ross (he of One-Man Lord of the Rings fame) brings to life the pains of working at a convenience store and, especially, the pains of adolescence.
The subject matter is perfect for bittersweet comedy, but Ross only keeps his audience sporadically engaged. The trouble is, you never quite forget that he’s alone. Especially in the more intimate scenes, the characterizations meld into each other, and it seems as though Ross is just talking to himself. (This is especially unfortunately, since the minor characters are so beautifully, distinctively realized on paper.)
The show is energetic and swiftly paced, but Ross seems to have only two settings: frenetic and quiet. And there are only so many times an audience will find the sight of Ross battling off customers as if they were orcs funny. What redeems this play from its frenzy and awkwardness is the small explanation Ross gives after the play is done. There is heartbreaking, tender honesty, almost enough to inspire you to sit through the show again. —Greg Hudson
3 STARS

THE SHAKESPEARE SHOW, OR HOW AN
ILLITERATE SON OF A GLOVER BECAME THE GREATEST PLAYWRIGHT IN THE WORLD (BYOV P)
See Battle!

SINGING AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD (STAGE 5)
Singing at the Edge of the World has nothing in common with those Fringe shows that try to pummel their audiences with bombastic plotlines, zany antics, tasteless jokes, and onstage nudity. This show does subtlety, and does it really, really well.
Randy Rutherford’s intimate solo show—making a welcome return visit to the Edmonton Fringe—intwerweaves the story of his coming of age as a folksinger in 1970s coffeehouses with native Alaskan mythology, and allows the audience to pick up the quiet harmonies. Each moment, each story and joke feels as carefully chosen as each note in Rutherford’s outbursts of soulful, finger-picking blues. His engaging music and storytelling always hit just the right mood, and you leave feeling as though you’ve witnessed a beautiful private miracle.
If the nearly sold-out Friday afternoon crowd is anything to go by, Rutherford’s biggest following is among the geriatric set, but there’s a lot to ponder, laugh, and be moved by here, even it you can’t say the best years of your life were in the ’70s. —Elliot Kerr
4 STARS

SIXTY-FOUR AND NO MORE LIES (STAGE 8)
At 64, writer/performer Susan Freedman—whose previous Fringe shows include Fifty-Seven and Still Lying About My Weight and Sixty With More Lies About My Weight—has decided to stop all the fibbing and just accept all those aches, pains, and uncomfortably emotions for what they are. This show is like an honest, humourous discussion with an old friend, or maybe your hip grandmother, or perhaps the nice neighbour on the other side of the fenceposts.
I was pleasantly surprised to realize that Freedman’s naturalistic performance did not feel at all like a one-sided conversation (as many Fringe monologues do). This play is not just for older people who can relate first-hand to Freedman’s descriptions of the trials and tribulations of getting older; it’s for anyone who’s ever doubted themselves, or just wants to listen to some friendly wisdom. That’s most of you guys, right? —Jill Stanton
4 STARS

SNOW PATROL (STAGE 5)
The ”magical healing powers of snow,” which the characters refer to throughout Snow Patrol, are entirely absent from the show itself, which doesn’t know if it wants to be a (snow)balls-out frat comedy or a serious relationships-and-daddy-issues drama.
It’s a moot point, though; neither part succeeds. Indeed, the characters’ aimless, pointless journey to the mountains to make snowballs in the middle of summer could be taken as a metaphor for this show—the actors struggle to carve something, anything, moving or funny out of the material, but it’s like trying to make a snowball on Whyte Avenue in August. At several points, they appear to give up on the script entirely and try to express emotion by wrestling. (David Johnston’s reserves most of his dramatic moments for a string of implausible answering machine messages.)
This one is for friends and family only. On the other hand, maybe I was bitter that the posters promised real snow to cool off a hot Fringe venue, and, at my performance at least, there wasn’t a flake to be found. —Elliot Kerr
1 STAR

SPIRAL DIVE (STAGE 4)
Aviation buffs rejoice: Kenneth Brown’s newest play, a drama about a green-as-grass Second World War fighter pilot, is the first installment of a planned trilogy. Our hero is Edmonton boy Jack Harding (fresh-faced Blake William Turner), a raw Air Force recruit circa 1942 who gets a quick education in love, war, and pulling your plane out of a nosedive. There are only three actors in the cast (promising Fringe newcomer Caley Suliak and Bryan “Not The Dancer” Webb), but the story is as densely populated with sergeants, pilots, farmers, and glamourously damaged prostitutes as a novel.
But the dialogue occasionally has the density of a novel as well, which occasionally works to the play’s detriment. It’s a matter of personal taste whether you’ll take to Brown’s style of theatre, in which the cast doesn’t perform the script so much as recite it, including the kind of authorial passages (descriptions of characters, interior monologues) that, if this were a novel being adapted for the stage, would have been the first thing most playwrights would leave out. I found it a little off-putting myself, but judging from the standing ovation that the sweaty crowd gave it on Saturday afternoon, I’m in the minority. —Paul Matwychuk
3 1/2 STARS

THE SPY (STAGE 4)
When a physical theatre expert starts giving hints on the best way to combat those pesky street-performing mimes, you know you’ve got a winner on your hands. Now, I’m not quite sure if I mean “winner” sarcastically or not, but bear with me while I practice my dissection of a cow’s head ....
The Spy is billed as a physical theatre piece, and at the helm is the very spry Jonno Katz, playing Inspector Seymour Foggs (complete with hoity-toity accent, faux suede suit, and Clouseau-style pornstache) who guides the audience through a pretty standard spy-genre spoof (complete with Russians named Yevgeny, moles within his own department, Silver Foxes... you get the idea), graced by Katz’s loose-limbed physical presence, which is half-dance, half-spastic-flail. There’s a sprinkle of audience interaction here (and he’s quite good at dealing with midnight hecklers, so beware), but it’s never uncomfortable or forced—basically all he wants you to do is appreciate how difficult it is to mime scaling a building. It’s even more difficult to make it look like you’re falling off a bridge while your feet are firmly planted on the stage... but that’s something you might want to see for yourself. —Fawnda Mithrush
2 1/2 STARS

STAGE RIGHT (STAGE 4)
Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear.
You’re going to think I’m exaggerating for comic effect here, but I saw Stage Right on Saturday night, with about 50 other people in the audience, and the show didn’t elicit a single genuine laugh for its entire 50-minute running time. Not a one. Maybe three or four subdued, scattered chuckles, but that’s about it—and when the number of walkouts exceeds the number of laughs, you know your play has serious problems.
Stage Right, written and directed by Innisfail’s Andrew McKechnie, follows the drama unfolding backstage at a high-school production of Grease—although this must be some bizarre version of Grease where the actors apparently wander desultorily on and offstage more or less at will (and where no more than two actors are ever required to be onstage at any one time, not even during the musical numbers). “We’re theatre people; we love enthusiasm and energy!” says one character, but no one in the inexperienced six-person cast got the memo—this is Fringe comedy at its most listless. I don’t think I even want to see Grease for a while now. —Paul Matwychuk
1/2 STAR

STAMPEDE! (ACT ONE) (STAGE 8)
As the title suggests, this play is actually the first half of a planned two-part “country opera musical” inspired by Bizet’s Carmen that creator Richard Van Oosterom hasn’t quite finished yet. Director Alan Wong even steps out onto the stage before and after the show to explain this, and he sounds almost apologetic as he does so. I say, own your one-act play!
In fact, I have the same criticism of the overall performance: the performers all seem just a little bit tentative. (And the musicians will need to practice their two-step some more as well.)
You know what? Everyone involved in this show needs to shake the first-night jitters outta their bodies and just let loose (which, thankfully, many of them did toward the end of the show) But with a bit more polish, the idea of an opera with country music is an incredibly creative... and exciting. Stampede! has the potential to be a modern-day Oklahoma!, or at least a decent ripoff of the recent Fringe hit Das Barbecü. There are even a few nicely-written songs here that will stick in your head throughout the day. (“Time Off for Good Behaviour” and “Roadside Woman” were my favourites.) By the end of the show, I even found myself wanting to see Part Two. —Jill Stanton
2 1/2 STARS

STARS AND SONS (STAGE 8)
The latest Fringe play from Mark Stubbings (Dirt, Our Kind of Love Is an Ugly Love) is set in Nisku, Alberta, where 15-year-old Clara (Tasha Weenk) and 33-year-old Charlie (Stubbings) become friends under unlikely circumstances. Clara, you see, has an unhealthy fascination with outer space,
and longs to be “up there” one day—and Weenk beautifully portrays her fascination. We really feel for her when she says that it’s all she has. Stubbings, on the other hand, must have some deep-rooted girlfriend issues that he’s working out through this script; I found the letters his character writes to his girlfriend throughout the play are violent and hostile to the point of offensiveness. (Then again, plenty of members of the audience found them quite funny, which made the atmosphere in the theatre even more awkward.).
Stars and Sons also has a strong (and, I would argue, fairly unnecessary) anti-abortion slant. I was left wishing Stubbings had devoted more time to Clara’s desire for outer space, instead of twisting the story into an Afterschool Special for grown-ups. —Jill Stanton
3 STARS

SYLVIE (STAGE 11)
For anyone who’s ever had a crush, the awkwardness of trying to talk to the “crushee” is palpable. Anna wants to get to know Jamie better but doesn’t know what to say to him. After some silence she manages to choke out a meek “How’s your juice?” which eventually leads to more silence.
Sylvie, written and directed by Andrea Beca, is a coming-of-age story about a girl named Anna (played with earnest jitteriness by Elisa Benzer). While traveling abroad, Anna meets the reserved Jamie (Kevin Shipalesky). Their deepening relationship unfolds across multiple countries, enacted through simple but effective devices like Anna’s narration to the audience or a replay of recorded dialogue.
But the plot seems to turn on whether and how far Anna and Jamie’s relationship will advance, by the final scene we don’t know if we should even care. It’s unclear what Anna is searching for in her fascination with Jamie and it’s even hazier whether or not she ever found it, or if that was even the point. The story portrays such emotional honesty between its characters that it’s too bad the main character fails to be similarly open with the audience. —Janet Ngo
3 STARS

TAP ATTACK (STAGE 1)
Watching Tap Attack, a four-dancer tap show influenced by burlesque, vaudeville, and blues, I was sold immediately on the music as well as the fantastic choreography. But the sloppiness of the tapping itself was a disappointment—especially in a show with the word Tap in the title. (To be fair, perhaps the faults in the dancing and the occasional technical glitches could be chalked up to opening night jitters.)
Luckily, the solo acts almost save the show. Tanya Rivard’s incredible solo flamenco dance sounded, impossibly, like two lovers dancing, and Emily Regas’ tense, sexy solo to a Nina Simone piece is alone worth the price of admission. If they can perform cohesively with as much passion and crispness as Rivard and Regas perform singly, this will be a fantastic show. —Andrea McQuade
3 STARS

TEACHING THE FRINGE (STAGE 6)
Fringe favourite Keir Cutler returns with the latest installment in his Teaching franchise. This time he’s teaching the Fringe—or, more accurately, teaching true stories about himself and his craft. Central to his lesson is a letter a frequent Fringer wrote to the Winnipeg Fringe about Cutler’s past show Teaching As You Like It. The Winnipeg Fringe then forwarded it to Cutler, with a note saying his play had “touched a nerve.”
The pace is a bit slow, but Cutler is good at keeping us in suspense as he shares the letter (and it’s a rather unique letter). In between reading and commenting on the letter, he performs some hilarious re-enactments of his various Fringe experiences, such as his encounter with a notorious audience member who makes it her habit to ruin all shows (including his) with raucous inappropriate laughter.
However (as Cutler says, there’s always a however), his defenses and explanations of Teaching As You Like It border on misplaced ranting, especially since he makes it clear that the vast majority of his audience did understand the play. It’s always a little off-putting when artists say how their work should be interpreted, even when there is one obviously “correct” way of interpreting it, and even if they get interpretations as unique as Cutler’s strange anti-fan letter. —Giorgia Severini
3 STARS

TELEGRAMS FROM THE NEW CANADIAN CINEMA (STAGE 9)
Telegrams is not one show, but rather a rotating program of short and medium-length Canadian films, showcasing a different set of films each night. It’s sort of hard to critique a showcase of individual films, especially when they’re are so diverse: some come off as flaccid art experiments, like Ghost Town, five minutes’ worth of black-and-white footage of a dilapidated mining town shot on grainy film with a dirty camera lens.
On the other hand, there are exciting discoveries like Lucy James Part 1, a medium-length film about a group of young people participating in a wedding. From the opening toast to a sexually charged game of hide and seek, the film examines all the emotions that can come from love: bitterness, elation, lust, jealousy, and everything in between. If you’re lucky enough to catch it, it’s a hell of a film. —Ramin Ostad
3 STARS

THE TOO TALL PRINCESS (STAGE 12)
Ellen Chorley (who both wrote the play and stars in it) is quite obviously a talented, enthusiastic actress who is great at what she does. Her newest children’s play has a sweet message about accepting other people’s differences and a cast of five that skillfully plays at least a dozen characters between them—no mean feat.
The bad news is that a lot of the humour in the play is aimed at an audience just out of Chorley’s age range; kids who are old enough to understand the references to Facebook are probably also old enough to stop listening to princess stories.
However, just to test my theory, I caught up with a few kids and asked them their take on the performance. “I thought it was weird,” said Leo, 8. “I liked how there were only five actors in the whole play!” enthused 13-year-old Hayley, while six-year-old Amanda simply exclaimed, “I like it!!” I’m not sure what this proves—perhaps if you’re an eight-year-old boy you might want to look elsewhere for your Fringe entertainment. —Jill Stanton
3 1/2 STARS

TRANSCENDENTAL MASTURBATION (STAGE 7)
There’s nothing on the handbill or program, save for a scantily clad accordion player, that indicates what exactly Transcendental Masturbation is about... and nothing much in the show does, either. Glen Callendar’s one-man musical/comedy stylings (which reference everything from the Book of Revelation to Monistat) is neither transcendental nor masturbatory, but it is ... well, fun. It’s also very lewd, very crude, and touches on subjects that I was fairly certain would make our Edmonton crowd cringe. But Fringers are made of stronger stuff than I thought, and Callendar’s earnest, honest, engaging delivery got me laughing too, the way you do when your grandparents tell off-colour jokes. You don’t want to laugh, you know the jokes aren’t that funny, and the delivery is all wrong, but you laugh anyway.
You can’t help but relax after Callendar’s admits, “I hope you like what I do, because it’s pretty much all I’m good at.” Thank God for that. —Andrea McQuade
3 STARS

TRASHCAN DUET (STAGE 3)
Billy, a young man with a history of minor run-ins with the law, spots Stella, a misanthropic beat poet, in his favourite coffee shop. He makes a pass at her; she shoots him down. But he’s undaunted; even she shows not the slightest interest in him, he continues to pursue her, talking her up at the coffee show, showing up late at night under her apartment window, and even indulging in some minor blackmail to get her to go on a dinner date. According to Dave Dawson’s director’s notes, he sees Trashcan Duet as a story about two damaged people learning from each other and making a tentative human connection. But I think it comes across more as a tonally uncertain comedy about a bitch falling in love with an alcoholic stalker—two unsympathetic characters, neither of whom seems like much of a catch.
Neither of them seem particularly damaged, either; Michael Showler is a likable guy with good comic timing, but he plays Billy as if he’s John Cusack in Say Anything, not the hard-drinking hell-raiser the script makes him out to be. And Adrienne McGrath is completely unconvincing as a cynical poet “with battery acid in her veins.” Like Stella, Trashcan Duet is hard to love. —Paul Matwychuk
2 STARS

THE TRICKY PART (STAGE 5)
This one-man show about an adult survivor of childhood sexual abuse (starring South African actor Peter Hayes as playwright Martin Moran) is absolutely riveting.
Moran asks the question, “Is it possible that what harms us might come to restore us?” and Hayes more than delivers on this painful, blindingly intense proposition. But he takes his time before plunging into those emotional depths; the play begins with Hayes chatting amiably with the audience as himself, talking about his own life and experiences in South Africa, as well as his own first encounter with the play. It’s a disarming tactic, one that sets a tone of remarkable honesty and makes you feel Hayes and Moran’s genuine desire to communicate, explore, remember and heal.
This may sound pretentious, but there’s a quality of reverence before the sacred in this show, and I am ashamed to have to put his art into my own words; The Tricky Part demands simply to be seen. —Elliot Kerr
5 STARS

TROJAN WOMEN (STAGE 6)
Adapting the classics is dangerous business, but Manchester’s Eyewitness Theatre
Company knows what they are doing; their adaptation of Trojan Women is accessible and relevant to any modern-day audience. Only the three youngest characters from Euripides’ original—Andromache (Laura Danielle Sharp), Cassandra (Nell Corrin), and Helen (Carly Tarett)—are featured in this version. With the mother figure Hecuba absent, the young women have only each other to rely on for strength as they wait for their Greek captors to take them from the fallen city of Troy.
It’s amazing to see how relevant the issues these women must deal with remain today. Andromache has been the dutiful wife and mother at the expense of her own desires. The frenzied Cassandra has followed all the rules a good consecrated virgin should and yet has been punished by Apollo for refusing him. Helen, the epitome of female beauty, is both revered and despised—and scorned for her own sexual desire. The play does feel a tad overlong and could have withstood still more cuts, but the complexity of the characters and the actors’ performances make this one very much worth your time. —Giorgia Severini
4 STARS

THE UGLY DUCKLING (BYOV A)
Before this enjoyable puppet show begins, the two storytellers introduce themselves and make a few confessions to their young audience. “When I was young,” says one, “I always wished I had a different nose.” “I always wished I had blue eyes”, says the other. It is a gentle entry into a pleasant retelling of the Hans Christian Andersen classic.
Here, the ducks and all the other characters are played by colourful puppets (all handled by Kate Ryan). There are a few songs—and at least one has been stuck in my head ever since seeing the show. As in all good family shows, the audience gets a chance to participate and even help save the ugly duckling (here named Sonny) from being boiled by a fox. At the performance I caught, the bright set and adorable puppets more than captured the attention of the audience of preschoolers (often a tough and squirmy crowd), and without making a whole lot of fuss, sent them home with a very clear educational message. —Caitlin Fulton
4 STARS

WHISKEY, GIN, AND PINTS OF BEER
(STAGE 4)
It’s a pleasant surprise to see a young cast like this one tackling a new, entertaining family dramedy instead of travelling the typical post-sec drama student routes of artsy existentialism, sketch improv, or yet another Edward Albee one-act.
And an Irish patriarch’s funeral is a pretty high-tension place to start. Alexander Forsyth’s booze-soaked romp begins with three brothers, their mother, and younger sister sitting around a kitchen table piled high with alcohol—the after-party from their father’s wake is ripping up the yard outside—and it doesn’t take long for the uncomfortable family issues to surface. Murphy has returned home from college to bury his dad, and his brothers, Michael and Caley, do an excellent job at riling him for leaving town and abandoning his girlfriend in between shots (and sometimes guzzling) of Jameson.
Their Irish-tinged dialogue is quick and engaging, and the scenes, particularly the ones involving the spry and sensitive Caley, never fall flat. It’s well acted, the direction is fresh, if a bit predictable. It’s MacGregor’s Hard Ice Cream and Gas for the student crowd, full of guilt, laughter, arguing, and, in true student form, plenty of drunkenness too. —Fawnda Mithrush
3 1/2 STARS

WHY DO FOOLS FALL IN LOVE? (STAGE 6)
Christine Lesiak and Adam Keefe take us through the various stages of falling in love in this okay comedy starring their clown characters “Sheshell” and “Rocket.” It’s a standard love story with plenty of stereotypes and clichés (aren’t we done with THX jokes yet?), but a few original and even stunning moments, like the love scene created with flashlights. I’m still wondering where they got that idea.
One odd aspect of the show is that Sheshell is almost the straight man while Rocket is completely uninhibited. Do opposites attract? Maybe so, but the show feels imbalanced with one clown’s presence constantly overpowering the other. Still the two performers seem to love their audience as much as the audience loves them, and they reward our indulgence throughout the show—at one point, they even feed audience members jelly donuts. Despite my reservations, I’m honour-bound to report that the nearly sold-out crowd at the performance I attended enjoyed just about every moment, so don’t let my three-star rating dissuade you from checking this one out; for all I know, you might fall in love with Sheshell and Rocket too. —Giorgia Severini
3 STARS

WILD ABANDON (STAGE 8)
This play was adapted from playwright
Daniel MacIvor’s original one-man show into a one-woman show in order to accomodate performer Rachelle Fordyce. I’m not sure how extensively the original script has been altered, but I can’t imagine it being performed by anyone else, let alone a male; Fordyce is a natural fit for the part—a woman wisecracking and free-associating her way through a nervous breakdown. She’s endearingly awkward in the way that all of us sort of are.
The play itself is a tad on the artsy side—the plot is pretty much nonexistent and the logical leaps from one image to another are often bewildering. (MacIvor wrote Wild Abandon in 1990, shortly after See Bob Run, which is also being produced at this year’s Fringe—but it has more in common with this year’s third MacIvor Fringe play, House.) But there many really beautiful observations and moments that make the hour-long session in Fordyce’s company very worthwhile, despite the unexpected, alienating ending. —Jill Stanton
3 1/2 STARS

THE WISHING TREE (STAGE 1)
Gianna Vacirca, Vanessa Lever, and April Ashley Killins showcase absolutely incredible talent in this three-person show set, for all intents and purposes, within a small child’s mind. A crafty mix of the Brothers Grimm tale and Hindu mythology, The Wishing Tree tells the story of a small girl, Abby (played by a pitch perfect and never quite overacted Vanessa Lever), taking a literal and metaphorical journey through a forest to make a wish about her divorcing parents.
It may sound like as clichéd as an Afterschool Special, but instead it leaves you feeling the way you do when you read fairytales as an adult—you know what the ending might be, and the lesson as well, but the journey there is enjoyable all the same. Vacira and Killens both play at least four characters each with great dexterity, while multitasking director Samantha Slater deserves a special tip of the hat for her simple, fluid and beautiful set design. A fantastic show! —Andrea McQuade
4 1/2 STARS

WOODY SED (STAGE 5)
This brief play by Vancouver’s Thomas Jones compresses the eventful life of folksinging legend Woody Guthrie into 50 minutes of music and monologue, from Guthrie’s humble Oklahoma origins to his many travels across the length and breadth of his country, changing directions and destinations whenever it seemed appropriate.
It’s with great shame that I confess my complete and total ignorance of Guthrie’s life and music before attending Woody Sed, but I left Stage 5 eager to learn and hear much more. Jones’ acting and singing do an eerily convincing job of capturing Guthrie’s personality—or at least what I now imagine his personality to be. Some of the secondary characters come off less vividly, but this is still a fine, fine show. I would have liked to have heard more songs—at less than an hour, there’s definitely room to squeeze in a couple more. Guthrie fans likely have this show in their sights already, but I can personally testify that Guthrie neophytes will have a marvelous time as well. —Alejandro Moreno
4 STARS

WOOSTER SAUCE (BYOV A)
I tried, I really did, but I just can’t get into dry, stiff-lipped British humour. I am also totally unfamiliar with the works of P.G. Wodehouse; prior to this show, I thought Jeeves was a search engine. That said, the Fringe is always crawling with Anglophiles, and I have no doubt Wooster Sauce (directed by the ubiquitous Kenneth Brown) will be right up their alley.
Fringe regular John D. Huston (who specializes in one-man adaptations of popular literature from the late 19th and early 20th century) is an excellent physical comedian and he’s enough of a ham to play Bertie Wooster in all his cheerfully vapid glory—his overacting in this role makes Jeeves’ acerbic quips all the more amusing. Indeed, the play really picks up in the second half, with Huston spending more time in the role of Jeeves, as well as brief stints as a schoolgirl and a dour schoolmistress. Funny how, even in this day and age, the thought of a proper English gentleman squirming under the gaze of young schoolgirl is still wholly amusing. —Melissa Priestley
3 1/2 STARS

WORD OF MOUTH IS KILLING US (STAGE 5)
As best as I could tell, this show is trying to score an across-the-board no-stars sweep, so I’m giving them half a star just out of spite. What other explanation could there be for the segment where the cast located the reviewers in the audience and did their best to embarrass the three of us with breakdancing moves and sexual remarks.
But I got off easy compared to the poor woman picked from the audience to engage with one of the male performers in a long and vulgar conversation about her vagina. Together, these four stand-up routines will stay with me for the rest of my life as one of the most painful Fringe experiences of all time (though they don’t hold a candle to the legendary “naked man reading the phone book” show that I saw many Fringes ago).
The performers are actually experienced Alberta comics, but with nine stone-cold sober audience members in a hot dark room, these boys fell very flat. If you’re a misogynist dick, come see this one with a woman you’d like to publicly humiliate—you’ll have a fantastic time. —Elliot Kerr
1/2 STAR