A MIXED BAG — EVEN FOR FRINGE
Some theatre defies classification
RIGBY MULDOON: PARADOX AT VANDERKROFT MANOR 1/2 out of 5 Stage 34, John Walter Room/ Varscona Hotel
It’s the old random-charactersstuck-in-a-locked-murdermanorhouse scenario. Except this time they’re from different time co-ordinates – 1898, 1947, 1987, 2017, etc. — thrown together by an electrical storm and a quirk of quantum physics, with a recurring character, professional time traveller-detective Rigby Muldoon, to help sort things out.
Robin Slack’s sci-fi murder mystery premise could use more development and a larger, cooler physical space, but it does inspire six drama grads to cultivate their oddball, multi-generational, contrasting characters, some nuggets of incidental humour and hints at an insightful perspective on history.
Rigby’s (Joshua Cross) gravelly voice and Mr. Zen’s (Alex Berry) wide-eyed confusion need a bit of fine-tuning, and the rambling plot allowed for some zany dialogue that didn’t always live up to its potential, but there is a certain cast chemistry there. I hope Rigby and his friends live to see another play. Roger Levesque
THE MERKIN SISTERS
1/2 out of 5 Stage 1, Westbury Theatre
During comments to the audience at the end of The Merkin Sisters, Ingrid Hansen, one of the pair of performers who make up this show, puts it pretty plainly: “This show is really hard to describe.”
Even they struggle in their program description: “Think Olsen Twins + Grey Gardens + The Muppets.” Okaaay, then.
This is a physical comedy/ dance/performance art show, but to call it that doesn’t really sum it up either. There’s a lot to unpack after the show, which had audiences in stitches.
Sooo, here goes: Come expected to see two expert physical performers, Hansen and Stephanie Morin-Robert (Who is also in the outstanding one-woman show Blindside), offer scenes featuring motherhood, sexuality, sisterhood and sibling rivalry, audience participation, Minute to Win It games, puppet Riverdance, and a singing vagina. Yes, you read that last one correctly.
It is in parts funny and thought-provoking and goofy and just downright weird. But all in a good way.
What would you expect in a show in which the title characters are named after a pubic wig. Oh, and the show features those too, to great comic effect.
This may not be a show to suit everyone’s tastes, and may make some feel uncomfortable. Too bad for them.
As Morin-Robert’s sister manages to pronounce with one word — “ART!” — that’s kind of the point Dave Breakenridge
BLIND TO HAPPINESS
out of 5 Stage 13, Old Strathcona Public Library
Three fully drawn character sketches makes this one-man show by Tim C. Murphy an absorbing hour. Each of the men he plays has an obstacle to overcome, whether it be an anxiety disorder, an absent father or a relationship that just isn’t working out. The Toronto-based actor and playwright ponders how to wring happiness out of the cards each of us has been dealt. Is happiness a choice? Is it biology?
Murphy is masterful with his body, pulling the audience right into his skin as he squirms to adjust to all that’s thrown his way. Chris (Couks) Kennedy is an awkward dishwasher at a restaurant who is trying to complete a high school diploma and who longs, after five years in the dish pit, to make his mark on the cooking line. Mike is an IrishCanadian psychology student pursuing a PhD. Jamie is a line cook and an aspiring poet who, at 35, has never had a girlfriend.
The play points out that each of us is not what we may appear on the surface, and for all of our striving to find a place for ourselves, there is a limit to what we can manage. As our tender poet points out “you are what you love, and not what loves you.” Liane Faulder
PAGLIACCI
out of 5 Stage 16, Holy Trinity Anglican Church
Go and see this show, especially if all you know about opera comes from Bugs Bunny’s Rabbit of Seville.
The Pop Goes the Opera production of Pagliacci fills Holy Trinity’s sanctuary with beautiful music that tells the tragic tale of the white-suited clown who’s betrayed by his wife and (remember, it’s opera) murders her.
The intimate location adds to the enjoyment. The church aisles are an extension of the stage and the audience sits close enough to the action to clearly see the faces and emotions of the cast, unlike in large venues such as Jubilee Auditorium.
Outfitting everyone for the modern day, complete with sunglasses and selfies, is a good touch that adds to our sense of communion.
The only small glitch was the occasional mixups in the projection of the English translations of the lyrics, but with the program’s plot synopsis it was easy to follow along.
Lead singers Bertrand Malo, Danilo Rowley, Cristina Weiheimer, Taylor Dean Fawcett and Ron Long, along with the 16-member chorus filling the role of Italian villagers, are a talented group of mostly amateurs who put their hearts into their roles.
They’re accompanied by seven excellent musicians, a massive orchestra for the Fringe.
Rowley sells us on the sadness of the clown laughing on the outside and crying on the inside in the famous “vesti la giubba” aria. But see it for yourself. It’ll make you forget Bugs Bunny. Gordon Kent
LASER KIWI
out of 5 Stage 1, Westbury Theatre
If you are not an avid follower of news from south of the equator, Laser Kiwi probably won’t mean a helluva lot to you.
Basically, back in 2015 New Zealand held a referendum about whether or not the country should ditch its Union Jack heavy flag and replace it with something new.
The public was encouraged to send in designs and resident James Gray came up with a flag that had — you guessed it — a kiwi bird with lasers coming out of its eyes.
It didn’t win and New Zealand decided to stay with its original flag, but Gray’s hilarious design created a bit of a cult following online.
The Laser Kiwi show is less about the flag and more about being quirky and running with your ideas, no matter how daft, because you’ll never know what gold may come from it.
Showcasing the peculiar talents of brothers Degge and Zane Jarvie and Imogen Stone, this is part sketch, part circus (Stone’s Cirque du Soleil-style acrobatic show is breathtaking) and part street performance. It is everything you could want from a Fringe show.
It’s quirky, bizarre, hilarious — there are a few groaners in there — and at the end of the day it is just good fun.
It pains me to say this as an Australian, but our Trans-Tasman neighbours nailed this one. Juris Graney
PIG
out of 5
Stage 13, Old Strathcona Public Library
Jake, an older and much revered brother, tells his younger sibling, Sal, that they’ll be able to play together “when pigs fly.” This inspires Sal to create a Flying Pig Machine in the hopes of arresting the attention of Jake, who, like the other inhabitants of his mythic town, toils ceaselessly in the sludge mine.
Part circus side-show, part homage to Dr. Seuss, PIG is a difficult show to review. Its star and creator, Los Angeles native James Gangl, creates charismatic characters with fun voices, and has constructed an hour-long story that owes much of its appeal to the compelling nature of clever rhyme. That part is good.
But PIG is a ragged show, both long and exhausting. It invests much of its stock in the spurting of blood, and that hasn’t resonated with me since Sissy Spacek in Carrie. The stage is covered with plastic (for obvious reasons) and Gangl wanders across it barefoot, his feet sticking to the surface and making a plastic-onfeet sound that distracts from the performance. Still, if the cartoonish amputation of digits makes you want to spend $13, PIG is the show for you. Liane Faulder