The Fringe theatre festival continues through Sunday, but with over 100 plays vying for your attention, deciding what to see can be a challenge. The Varsity picks the productions that are worth the $10 ticket price.
The Laramie Project (Theatre Western)
The Laramie Project portrays a pretty significant story. After the hate-fuelled murder of Matthew Shepard in Laramie, Wyoming in 1998, the Tectonic Theatre Company travelled to the village to conduct interviews about the incident with townsfolk. The play, which includes testimonials from over sixty real individuals, addresses issues of homophobia, the death penalty, and human interaction. In light of Proposition 8 and the American battle over gay marriage, the topic is certainly worth addressing.
However, this is not an especially significant production. The staging lacks polish, and the amount of physical movement detracts from the poignancy of much of the dialogue. The eight-person cast bravely took on the challenge of portraying many different people, yet the majority of the actors could use a lesson in subtlety. A few of the characters were so overplayed that they became mere stereotypes, and their words lost resonance. But in this tragedy, it’s the words—the ones that came from the mouths of real people reacting to real events — that really matter. —WYNDHAM BETTENCOURT-MCCARTHY
Rating: VVv
Wanderlust (Martin Dockery)
Although theatre is about storytelling, it can generally be said that some stories—especially those told in one-person shows—are not worth hearing. But Martin Dockery, the director and sole actor of Wanderlust, came prepared. The performance consists of anecdotes from Dockery’s five-month soul quest through West Africa, beginning in the Sahara en route to Timbuktu (and as Dockery points out, any story that starts with Timbuktu reels you in pretty quick).
For better or worse, he ignores the political element completely; the is- sue of being a white, wealthy tourist in a very poor, partially war-ravaged region is mostly left untouched. Dockery’s story—how he abandoned a temp job at the New York Stock Exchange and casual sex in Brooklyn in search of something deeper—hinges on the temporality of emotion and the ephemeral nature of meaning. Comic and charismatic, Dockery’s performance succeeds on the intrigue of his tales and his own sincerity and enthusiasm. He really wants to tell the audience something, to show that his exodus was not for naught, and the least we can do is sit back and listen. —WBM
Rating: VVV
36 Little Plays About Hopeless Girls (Birdtown & Swanville)
References to panel vans and a cad named Ronnie make the rounds in Aurora Stewart de Peña’s 36 Little Plays about Hopeless Girls. Using a snappy episodic format, 36 features portrayals of a handful of different girls (Glissandra, Rotunda, Satine, et al), most of them a little alienated from notions of successful living. Funny, and at times melancholic, they go to baseball games or have measured discussions about “the average bitch.” De Peña cleverly situates the playlets in different Toronto locales, all with a slight fairy tale patina, from English gardens in the Annex to filthy-floored apartments in Parkdale.
Perfectly mannered performances by the whole cast blend the satirical with the earnest. Highlights include the stoic Laura McCoy as Ny’Pha, toilet paper–coveting creature of the night, and intensely choreographed transitions to Canadian Tire versions of Hole. Mega-props to Devon Tyler Dagworthy for putting together a pastel wardrobe that goes along perfectly with each hopeless girl’s specific persona, making them look fabulous in a festival that isn’t usually known for its literal (and figurative) frills.
—NAOMI SKWARNA
Rating: VVVV
Politically Correct Bedtime Stories (The Pheasant Plucker’s Mates)
A Big Bad Wolf sick of Little Red’s barbed comments about his appearance; a clothing-optional kingdom; a Cinderelly who takes solace in breaking it down to Annie Lennox—these are just some of the witty renditions in Jessica Beaulieu’s adaptation of James Finn Garner’s Politically Correct Bedtime Stories. Vastly entertaining and well- performed, the frenetic ensemble deconstruct the familiar tales with cheeky self-consciousness, never crossing into glibness.
A few scenes, like the Three Little Leftist Pigs, would work better if they were shortened to just a side of bacon. But the charisma of the performers (including many University College Drama Society students) keeps up the pace even when the script lags behind. As well, there periodically seemed to be too much action on the Tarragon’s wide stage. The hyperactivity sometimes distracts from the subtler comedic moments generated by, as narrator Marcel Dragonieri exuberantly declares at the show’s end, the “white across the board!” ensemble.—NS
Rating: VVVV
The Emergency Monologues (Drinking Well)
Blood, guts, feces, severed testicles: no body part is spared in Morgan Jones Phillips’ collection of tales from his days as a paramedic in the EMS trenches. While he begins with an airtight disclaimer, Phillips is all about spontaneity; the show is structured around a roulette wheel labelled with various emergency incidents, and each spin decides which story he will tell, making the show a unique experience each time.
Phillips has a knack for narration, and what he lacks in tact—his memories are christened with titles like “My First Hanging” and “Edna and the Poo”—he more than makes up for in comedic timing. The audience’s visible reactions to the gruesome stories are just as intriguing as the play itself—as the theatre emptied, people seemed to be checking to make sure all their limbs were still intact. Beneath all the gross-out jokes, Phillips man- ages to hint at how our skin and bones are reflections of who we are, and how our bodies are, ultimately, ourselves.—WBM
Rating: VVVV
Tim Buck 2 (Praxis Theatre)
Give Tim Buck 2 this credit: for a partial recreation of Eight Men Speak (the 1933 play performed in Toronto before a crowd of 1,500 to protest the arrest of Canadian Communist Party leader Tim Buck), it doesn’t aim to be way deep, then fail. It does, however, manage to assemble a fairly entertaining hour, even if there is little which theater- goers can take away from it.
While the play-within-a-play structure was good for laughs and managed to skewer the humourlessness of art deemed fit for the workers, what kept me hanging on, and what ultimately left me hanging, was the play’s ill-defined setting: when are we? But then I suppose injustice is eternal, hence the play’s title and its willingness to Make A Point. If you recognize the blurred portrait on the play’s posters—it’s like Omar Khadr is Tim Buck all over again! And it’s a pun!—you probably know too much about Guantanamo to get hot under the collar over the play’s conclusion. And yeah, it’s a mock- parliament debate that not even a high school civics teacher could love. — JADE COLBERT
Red Machine: Part 1 (The Room)
There’s something to be said for a little bit of exposition. The Red Machine is comprised of three separate pieces by Michael Rubenfeld, Erin Shields, and Brendan Gall, each fragment representing a sojourn into writer Hugo’s blocked brain. The labyrinthine structure is a great concept, but it doesn’t translate clearly in production.
There are powerful moments: performer Kristy Kennedy’s twitching, bound prophet evokes Beckett’s enigmatic monologue Not I as her body and language resist each other. Tova Smith, in a thankless but sexy role, plays up the noir element to great visual effect, but the allusions and literary motifs do little to bind the separate scenes into something holistic. Although the intention is admirable, The Red Machine might benefit from some more of the usual narratological conventions in order to render it more than just a well-lit, well-performed round of Exquisite Corpse.—NS
Rating: VVV
Fucking Stephen Harper: How I Sexually Assaulted the 22nd Prime Minister of Canada and Where it Got Me (Ten Foot Pole)
Disclaimer: Fucking Stephen Harper delves very little into, as the subtitle promises, how Rob Salerno sexually assaulted his Right Honourableness and where it got him. There is, in fact, zero fucking of the 22nd Prime Minister of Canada. However, it does give Salerno, who did not actually grab his interview subject by the balls but does actually write for Xtra, a soapbox from which to bemoan the state of his career. At that point, you will just bemoan how time seems to have slowed.
Admittedly, none of us would be in this mess if the Conservatives had to win votes in predominantly gay ridings to gain a majority government. Or if most Canadians considered gay issues their issues. Or if Harper’s (consensual) handlers didn’t try to dictate media coverage down to the font type. There’s a whole Kama Sutra of ways Harper is fucking everyone over, which is a lot to demonstrate when you’re just a one-man show. – JC
Rating: VVv
For showtimes and more information, visit www.fringetoronto.com.
