Three Men on a Bike

For anyone who may have questioned whether this follow-up to the smash hit Three Men in a Boat could possibly match the original, rest assured, lightning has indeed struck twice for the veteran creative team of playwright Mark Brownell and director Sue Miner.

This hilarious victorian travelogue, based on the novel by palindromically-named author Jerome K Jerome, reunites foppish and foolhardy friends Jay (Matt Pilipiak), George (Victor Pokinko), and Harris (David DiFrancesco) as they plan for a cross-country bicycle tour of Germany. Naturally, little goes as planned and not even their resolute English optimism can save them from an abundance of bothersome misadventure.

Brownell and Miner work hand in hand to deliver a taught and charming production replete with visual flair, fourth-wall breaking, and sharp and witty dialogue. The trio of performers are superb and practically work as a single unit – each delivering distinct but perfectly complementary performances.

The Huns

Playwright Michael Ross Albert has been producing excellent work for some time now, but caught the attention of many a Fringe-goer last year with his taught and thrilling two-hander Anywhere. He returns to the festival with some equally dark, but more darkly comedic fare with The Huns, in which three disparate office workers (Jamie Cavanagh, Breanna Dillon and Cass Van Wyck) attempt to brief their international co-workers about the theft of five corporate laptops via conference call.

It starts innocently enough as a comedy of errors bolstered by malfunctioning technology, office politics, and clashing personalities, but Albert artfully redirects it into more intriguing territory, eventually peeling back the personal costs that today’s increasingly pervasive live-to-work culture exacts on the human psyche.

Director Marie Farsi impressively manages to transform “three people at a table” into a lively and dynamic affair, and stage manager Aidan Hammond deserves a special shout out for nailing the natural rhythm of what must be dozens of pre-recorded dialogue-based sound cues (designed by Andy Trithardt), without ever betraying the artifice of it.

The three performers each deliver sharp and highly-honed performances, but it’s hard not to single out Breanna Dillon for nailing THAT high-strung kool-aid drinking co-worker we’ve all encountered at some point in our lives.

Horseface

Full Disclosure: this reviewer is creatively involved in an upcoming production in which Alex Dallas will be appearing. Like all of our Fringe Picks, we have chosen to make note of her show based solely on the strength of the work.

Veteran performer and life-long feminist Alex Dallas is in the enviable position to be old enough to have experienced several societal sea changes first-hand – most notably the #MeToo movement – but also the unenviable position to possess the perspective of how much work is still to be done when it comes to the safety, equality, and respect of women. She channels both these thoughts in her compelling and no-holds-barred one person show, Horseface (if you’re wondering about the title, it’s in reference to Donald Trump’s less-than-diplomatic comment on Stormy Daniels’ appearance).

Her text is replete with personal experiences and anecdotes, some of which are cheeky and amusing (a wholly inappropriate birthday present given to her on her 60th birthday is a standout) but more often than not, are unseemly and sometimes downright harrowing. Tidbits about her early family life and her parents’ marriage effectively tie the issues of past and present together, and recollections of her time working the red carpet at the Toronto International Film Festival reinforce the unsavoury realities of show business that have recently come to public light.

As a performer, Dallas is a dynamic powerhouse; her pleasant and polite English disposition is the yin to her steely gaze and eruptive passion yang. She manages to spin the serious subject matter into an hour of entertaining theatre while never diminishing its importance.

Hannah Gadsby may have gotten the Netflix special first, but Dallas possesses no less of an effective and creative voice, and she ought to be heard.

Unbridled Futurism

This delightfully off-the wall cosmic and comedic musical is perhaps most aptly described as a live multimedia concept album. Written and performed by Nick Di Gaetano (backed by a real spitfire of a band), the show centres around the odyssey of an astronaut from an alternate earth trying against all odds to return home to his wife and cat – all while battling an evil racoon overlord through multiple bizzarro dimensions. The psychedelic narrative is interspersed with funky and delightfully DIY video clips and a plethora of impressive songs that invite comparisons to both 70s prog rock and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

Di Gaetano is a natural performer who doesn’t need to over-emote to grab your attention; his gruff-voiced and silver body suit-donning protagonist channels Tom Waits and Wolfman Jack, and his quick wit rewards the audience with some dry gems of jokes.

It’s a quirky and imaginative blast of fun from an equally unique artist.

Boy Falls from the Sky: Jake Epstein Live at the Supermarket

If the title of this Kensington Market situated site-specific show leads you to believe that it’s little more than a string of musical theatre tunes skillfully performed by one of Canada’s most illustrious musical theatre talents – boy are you wrong.

Yes, there is indeed all of the above, but more so than that, it’s a touching, earnest, and  biographically-driven rumination on the nature of success, fame, and what it means when you reach for your dreams, catch them, and find out they may not be what you imagined.

Epstein – who has trod countless Broadway stages and is immortalized as one of the stars of Degrassi: The Next Generation (yes, he knows Drake; please stop asking) – isn’t trying to embellish his life like some grand classic narrative complete with fall from grace and eventual redemption; he is obviously aware of his good fortune and accomplishments, but is honest about the less glamorous associated costs and consequences, and is able to communicate as much using memorable anecdotes plucked from his young but dense career.

Fortunately for the audience, he is a charismatic showman, a natural storyteller, and an inherently likable person, and weaves the serious themes into an hour of pitch-perfect entertainment – including plenty of recognizable and cleverly curated Broadway standards. Musical Director Daniel Abrahamson provides nearly continuous backing on the keyboard, an element which never pulls focus but provides highly effective underscoring of Epstein’s narrative.

Reader beware: the entire run of Boy is already sold out so best to keep your ears to the ground for a remount or extension. And if you are fortunate enough to have one of the coveted tickets, arrive early to be treated to a fantastic pre-show featuring Epstein backed by his old highschool jam band (their ska-inspired mashup of ‘Trouble’ from The Music Man and ‘It’s the Hard-Knock Life’ from Annie is worth the price of admission alone).

Honourable Mention: Tales of a Cocktail

Although billed as a 1920s speakeasy-themed reimagining of ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’, Tales of a Cocktail’s sparse and largely wordless narrative plays a distant second fiddle to the real star of this production: dance.

It’s an hour of high-octane flapper-inspired contemporary jazz choreographed by Adam Martino, Alayna Kellet, and Leah Cameron, performed by a top-notch cast of eight dancers and one singer to a bumpin’ soundtrack that blends vintage tunes and modern-day hits. Even audiences members will feel out of breath just watching this spectacle of a show.

Death Ray Cabaret

Musical comedy, when done poorly, is a real slog; but when done well – like really well – is sublime. Fortunately Death Ray Cabaret falls firmly in the latter category. It’s a hot 50 minutes of expertly crafted tunes, artfully clever lyrics, short and delightfully dorky bits, and self-deprecating banter.

With Death Ray Cabaret, performers and real-life couple Kevin Matviw and Jordan Armstrong aren’t trying to reinvent the musical comedy wheel, but there are several notable choices and elements to their songs and performance that elevate them above similar acts.

In terms of charisma and stage presence, they offer a polished but relaxed presentation that eliminates any sense of barrier between them and the audience. One can likely give director Shari Hollett credit for helping them to walk that ostensibly effortless but difficult-to-achieve fine line. Similarly, the relationship between Matviw and Armstrong is always tangible and is the basis for some of their material but is never treated with artifice or manufactured conflict for the sake of cheap laughs. Larger moments of physical comedy and theatricality are used sparingly and are saved for just the right occasions, giving them even greater impact.

The songs and short sketches are clearly the work of two outside-the-box creative minds; their material ranges from relatable issues, such as adult anxiety and childhood fears, to some very “shower thought”-esque material, such as a ballad from the perspective of the third and lesser known Apollo 11 astronaut, two cowboys with a tense relationship, and a take on a Halloween classic that had this reviewer guffawing embarrassingly loudly (my apologies to the lady sitting in front of me).

Equally impressive were their two improvised songs, especially one based on a contribution of “material” from the audience (no spoilers here).

This charming and hilarious revue is an early highlight of this year’s festival.

This auditorily-rich production from writer-director (and cast member) Jessica Moss artfully weaves elements of old and new like pre-television radio dramas and digital podcasts, Hitchcockian psychological thrillers and modern-day cop procedurals, as well as themes of solitude and self-imposed insulation into an intriguing and atmospheric spectacle.

After a Grace, a young actress (Tiffany Deobald), is gruesomely murdered in a low-rise apartment building, the diverse tenants all start eyeing each other with a little more suspicion. Marion (Samantha Madely), the newest tenant – and something of a loner – begins to suspect the building’s most eccentric resident, a professional foley artist (Andrew Musselman), of having been involved, leading her to strike up a bizarre friendship with the enigmatic sound-maker under the guise of “investigation”.

Not only does the foley artist play a part in the narrative, but also transparently provides ongoing sound effect accompaniment to the action on stage. It’s a quirky but effective choice that draws attention to itself in such a way that it invites one to briefly close one’s eyes and experience the story through sound alone – a sort of choose-your-own sensory experience. This is particularly true of the climax, which is unconventionally ambiguous for a whodunit, but still extremely effective at rattling the audience.

Innovative direction, charismatic performances, and a script rife with red herrings (and a few charming pop culture references), make for a memorable show.

Sometimes the simplest of concepts and presentations can also be the most impactful and effective. Such is the case with Chromatic Theatre’s presentation of Winners and Losers – a work originally devised by Marcus Yousseff and James Long, and adapted for this incarnation by Valerie Planche, Makambe K. Simamba, and director Jenna Rodgers.

In Winners and Losers, there is no set, no complex blocking, no elaborate lighting, no evocative sounds cues – just two performers (Planche and Simamba) at a table who toss out whatever subject – whether it be person, place, concept, or thing – that seemingly happens to come to mind and then debate if it’s a “Winner” or a “Loser”. If you think that alone can’t sustain a 75 minute show, you’d be sorely mistaken. The back and forth opens up the opportunity for creative and organic discourse on any and all topics at the forefront of today’s society; race, feminism, politics, history, celebrity culture – the list goes on. The fact that each subject has to be argued from both sides – no matter how obvious the answer might seem – means that Winners and Losers is a challenging work in the literal sense of the term and is effectively structurally incapable of preaching to the choir, which is a criticism often applied to theatre (and often with some degree of merit). There are certain motifs which are revisited, each time with more emotional depth. It is these heightened moments that takes what is already a dense and intriguing show, and elevates it to something even more special.

Because of its minimalist nature, much of Winners and Losers’ success rests on the shoulders of Planche and Simamba. The two are disparate in terms of age, race, and cultural upbringing, but they share a remarkable chemistry and kinship which gives any elements of antagonism a playful edge. They are both sharp performers who know how to manipulate the audience and each other, and who are able to blend the impromptu and scripted elements of the show seamlessly.

Dead for a Ducat: A deliciously clever and earnest film noir adaptation of Hamlet, with all the parts smartly performed by only two talented and hard working actors. It can be risky to mess with the classics, but Dead for a Ducat pulls it off with aplomb.

Harvey and the Extraordinary: This touching site-specific piece situated in a back-alley garage uses the premise of an eight year-old aspiring mime performing a show for her neighbours as the vehicle for a far more profound and moving story that is told almost exclusively in between the lines. Performer/creator Eliza Martin uses the intimacy of the space to great effect; her subtle twitches and the brief flashes of sadness in her eyes communicate so very much that would be lost in a larger venue.

Hooked: Looking for a bit of variety in your Fringe diet? Consider checking out one of the many worthy dance shows in this year’s festival. One excellent candidate is Kristen Pepper’s Hooked; it offers an emotionally effective premise, a clear narrative arc, and elegant choreography.

Life in a Box: Who would have expected a stoner buddy comedy to be so sharp, vibrant, and imaginatively staged? Not only does this dank time travel adventure feature palpably noteworthy chemistry between writer/performers Landon Doak and Matthew Finlan, but also some damn catchy musical interludes that invite comparisons to the work of Lin-Manuel Miranda.

Police Cops in Space: Very much in the same vein as Sex-T-Rex, The Pretend Men are able to weave a tale of justice, revenge, and friendship – in space no less – that is in equal measure hilarious and cinematic using only goofy costumes, cheap props, and a whole lot of theatrical magic.

Anywhere

When Liz (Courtney Ch’ng Lancaster), a tourism conference attendee returns home to her Air B&B late one night, she finds Joy (Cass Van Wyck), her host is still up and in the mood to talk. What starts as a friendly conversation takes on more ominous tones and pits the two women against each other in a situation with far more than just a good Air B&B review at stake.

This taught two-hander drama from playwright Michael Ross Albert is not only a shining example of the art of dramatic escalation, but is elevated by the fact that it relies and comments on larger ideas about class and the realities of our socio-economic system to work. His dialogue walks the fine line between precision and naturalism, making for a seamless but punchy back and forth.

Lancaster and Van Wyck are both superb in their respective roles as the slightly uptight Liz, and the deceptively unsophisticated Joy. Casting is not often critically recognized as a part of the creative process, but in this case it is worth highlighting given just how well the two performers play off of and contrast each other while still finding ample common ground.

Director David Lafontaine guides the piece with a deft hand; the pacing, blocking, and emotional progression are all calculated but organic, never drawing the audience out of what is an engaging experience.

The Preposterous Predicament of Polly Peel (Act 1)

Disregard the whimsically alliterative title if you think you’re in for a Fringe Kids show; Kevin Wong (music and lyrics), Julie Tepperman (book), and Aaron Willis’ (director) highly polished musical does indeed have Polly Peel (rising star Hannah Levinson), a confident and precocious child-scientist as its protagonist, but the the themes of loss and grief the production dissects are done so with nuance and sensitivity.

While audience members should be aware that due to the time constraints of the Fringe Festival, only act one of the full-length musical is being presented, it is still a thoroughly fulfilling experience and only leaves one that much hungry for more (fingers crossed there are some savvy producers and ADs in the audience).

Wong’s music and lyrics are plucky, sophisticated and gentle, and truly serve to support, communicate, and enhance Tepperman’s narrative – which cannot be said about lesser musical works. Willis’ direction is imaginative and imbues the production with just the right amount of Broadway bravado to be fun, without overshadowing the touching human story at the core of the production.

The cast are all a treat to watch; Levinson is charming in the titular role, and Jessica Sherman and Troy Adams both endear as Polly’s parents.

Shadow Kingdom

This imaginative shadow puppet show from the Mochinosha Puppet Company (Daniel Wishes and Seri Yanai) is a treat for children and adults alike. Wishes and Yanai have elevated shadow puppetry to a truly cinematic art form that offers no end of charming and innovative surprises.

In Shadow Kingdom they weave the tale of Minerva, a young girl who doesn’t want to go to sleep but rather stay up and play on her phone all night. When she and her phone are magically transported to the Shadow Kingdom – the realm of sleep – she finds herself caught up in an adventure that invites comparisons to the empowered-child stories at the heart of Hayao Miyazaki’s and Roald Dahl’s work.

Goofy humour, motley and memorable characters, and impressive technical artistry are just three of the reasons not to miss this show. Equally worthy of note are the touching original songs written for the show by composer Elliott Loran.

Also worth mentioning is that the company has a second show in the Fringe; Space Hippo. This reviewer saw it performed in late 2017 and it is just as delightful and fun as Shadow Kingdom. #LizarrrdMaaaaaaan

The Merkin Sisters

Creators/performers Ingrid Hansen and Stephanie Morin-Robert are a couple of weirdos, wonderful fearless weirdos. Thank god we have festivals like the Fringe to give them the platform they deserve – because you sure as hell aren’t going to see this delightfully wacky shit as part of any Mirvish season.

The Merkin Sisters is structured as a series of loosely interconnected abstract vignettes featuring the titular characters; a pair of rivalrous oddball siblings clad in 80s print bathing suits and, for lack of a better term, hair muumuus. Sweater vaginas, a cannibalistic wig, and miniature doppelganger puppets are just some of the physical comedy setpieces making up the show.

It’s not strangeness for strangeness’ sake though; motherhood, the nature of art, and body image – among other ideas – are all fodder for their completely unpredictable theatrical whims. In the hands of lesser talent, the concepts could fall flat as awkward head scratchers, but Hansen and Morin-Robert have impeccable comedic instincts and timing.

Beautifully bawdy, gleefully grotesque, and scintillatingly surreal, The Merkin Sisters is a welcome departure from reality.

Morro and Jasp: Save the Date

If there is such a thing as Fringe royalty, Morro and Jasp (Heather Marie Annis and Amy Lee) are it. This marks their (along with director/dramaturg Byron Laviolette) tenth Toronto Fringe, and they haven’t laid an egg yet.

In this iteration, the beloved clown sisters are preparing themselves for Jasp’s fast-approaching nuptials – and by extension the first time the two siblings will be living apart. It’s new emotional territory that they are forced to confront in the midst of all the other brouhaha that comes with planning a wedding. It is that brouhaha in which they mine the brilliant comedy they are known for; in this case dress fittings, cake tastings, and a superb visual gag involving a longer-than-average veil all illicit howls of delight from the audience.

Annis and Lee have always elevated their productions above mere entertainment (as entertaining as they are) by placing their loving and well-defined relationship at the centre of their stories, and this one might just be the most touching yet.

Entrances and Exits

The Howland Company (52 Pickup, Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons, Punk Rock) in partnership with Bad Dog Theatre is trying something a little different this time around – improv comedy. With an innovative premise, a talented cast, and some stellar guest performers (including the much beloved Colin Mochrie) the results are no less impressive than their previous offerings.

Entrances and Exits parodies the classic British living room farces of the 60s with a clever two-act structure that sees the same story played out twice, but each time showing what is happening in different adjacent rooms. It would be ambitious enough for a scripted show, but is even more so when the pieces are fit together on the fly.

We’ll Be Better Tomorrow

This bold, honest (and dare I say it, brave) two-hander sketch revue from performers Stacey McGunnigle and Jason DeRosse, and director Rob Baker is just as hilarious, contemporary, painfully truthful, and surprisingly heartfelt as their 2016 hit Tonight’s Cancelled.

Although on paper the two Second City veterans tackle material that has been the subject of countless sketches before (relationships, parenthood, sex, etc), they do so in a way that is both insightful and captures the zeitgeist, making the hour-long show feel fresh and topical. Their writing is strong and their characters are admirably well-defined and three-dimensional; not always the case in lesser sketch revues.

Inescapable

You’re going to have to forgive the vagaries of this write up; I would rather be obtuse about Fringe staple Martin Dockery’s deceptively simple and intensely clever two-hander than to give too much away.

What we can say is that what is ostensibly a conversation between two old friends who have stepped away from the hubbub of a holiday party and discover a cryptic object in a closet, is the framework for a high-concept bit of theatrical fun that is testament to Dockery’s talent as both a writer and performer. Those who enjoyed last year’s Moonlight after Midnight will appreciate the same one-two punch of human story and meta-structure that also defines Inescapable.

Dockery’s stagemate Jon Paterson is equally impressive to watch; the work’s concept and brisk pacing demand effortless performances to pull off, which Dockery and Paterson both deliver.

Because of the relatively simple staging, it would be easy to overlook Director Vanessa Quesnelle’s contribution, but she especially deserves credit for giving the performance a well defined arc – which is more of a challenge than one might assume.

Inescapable is a fast-paced slow burn, and an early highlight of this year’s festival.

Also worth noting: Martin Dockery has a second surprise show in this year’s fringe, The Bike Trip, which is also excellent. A one man storytelling show about Dockery’s trip to Basel, Switzerland to recreate the first literal LSD trip, laced (pun very much intended) with his philosophical reflections on love and life.

D&D Live!

Fringe regulars will know Sex-T-Rex for their hilarious and cinematic takes on various tropes and genres (Swordplay: A Play of Swords, Wasteland, among others), and while that also serves to describe D&D Live! (Dungeons and Dragons for the uninitiated), the difference this year is that there’s no script – it’s completely improvised with the assistance of the audience. Using a satirical version of Toronto by way of JRR Tolkien as the backdrop for the story, the players weave a tale that is both true to the Dungeons and Dragons experience and comedically accessible to the local audience.

The results, while not surprisingly less polished than their scripted shows (it wouldn’t be improv otherwise), are no less hilarious and imaginative. Sean Murray acts as the Dungeon Master, giving structure and guidance to the motley core group of mythical heroes (Chris Wilson, Kyah Green, Sean Tabares, and Conor Bradbury) who, like in a true game of Dungeons and Dragons, must on occasion roll a soccer ball-sized 20-sided die to determine the outcome of their quest.

Each performance features a special guest performer; at the performance this reviewer attended, it was the always top-notch Mark Little who played a mystical curator with a propensity for mischievously challenging the conventions of the format to great comedic effect.

Sex-T-Rex have earned their reputation as Fringe greats, and D&D Live! Is only further proof.

Featherweight

Tom McGee should be familiar to Fringe audiences as a key member of Theatre Brouhaha and the dramaturg of many if not all of Kat Sandler’s numerous fringe hits, as well as the creative force behind Shakey-Shake, the equally successful series of child-friendly Shakespearean adaptations performed by puppets. Featherweight, which McGee wrote and directed, is a departure from both those previous projects – although it is no less smart and entertaining.

Set in the Paddock Tavern (host to previous Fringe hits, We Are the Bomb and Bendy Sign Tavern), Featherweight gives the audience a glimpse into the afterlife – well, the administrative part right before the afterlife that is. Jeff (Michael Musi) a beige 30-something, finds himself in the hall of judgement, which looks suspiciously like his favourite bar, where he encounters Egyptian god Anubis (Amanda Cordner) and his/her assistant, Toth (Kat Letwin) who are tasked with processing his soul by weighing the deeds of his life against a feather. It being a well-stocked bar though, the liquor doth flow and the procedure takes a few left turns.

McGee’s writing is often delightfully nerdy, but never sacrifices the truth of the characters or story for the sake of a reference or joke. The dialogue is quick, the arguments nuanced, and the cast all do a fantastic job of bringing it all to life – although Kat Letwin does often steal the show as the oft-hapless servant.

Nashville Stories

One part concert, one part parable about fame, one part acid trip, David Bernstein and Jake Vanderham’s Nashville Stories is a gloriously wonky voyage through the world of 90s country music. Simply everyone is there; Garth, Trisha, Shania, grand dame Dolly, along with friends Ryan Seacrest and boy-toy Tony Robbins, a live band, and spandex-clad backup dancers. Interestingly, the soundtrack is filled with nostalgic 90s hits, but virtually no actual country music (call that a plus or minus according to taste).

The story (and the term is used loosely) centres on Garth Brook’s search for himself in the wake of his recent divorce. If you think you’re going to actually learn much about the real Garth Brooks or his life though, look elsewhere; the premise is a framework for alt-versions of pop figures that only tangentially correspond to their real-life counterparts to play in surreal and circus-esque scenes that are more dream-like than reality. This isn’t to say the production is nonsensical or pure chaos; there is a frenetic, albeit smart and highly calculated quality to the writing which is dotted with non-sequitors and whimsical details (who knew Shania had such a thing for houseboats and hot tubs?).

Similarly, Bernstein’s direction is a reflection of his and Vanderham’s writing – constantly in motion, but far from aimless. The cast are a talented bunch – both theatrically and vocally – and hold the Lynchian production together with the cohesion and uniformity of their performances.

Admittedly, Nashville Stories is almost certainly polarizing fare – you may love the ridiculous audacity of it, or you may dismiss it as an hour of sound and colour amounting to little, but a conventional theatrical experience it is not.

32 Short Sketches About Bees

This goofy and brisk-paced sketch revue is a delightful mish-mash of high-concept dad humour and abstract comedic thinking. From an tight and talented ensemble comprised of members of past Fringe hit-makers, Dame Judy Dench and other notable faces from the Toronto sketch comedy scene, 32 Short Sketches About Bees includes everything from scenes about literal bees to more open interpretations of the subject, such as recurring bit about a Bea Arthur’s tenure as Shopper’s Drug Mart’s sexually-charged spokesperson or a concise but clever scene about mishearing the phrase “Her bees”. The self-imposed concept is stretched to its creative limits, but there is still a cohesive feel to the whole. Although perhaps a contradiction in terms, 32 Short Sketches about Bees is good dumb smart fun.

A Peter N’ Chris-tmas Carol

After last year’s meta-theatrical Peter Vs. Chris, this dynamic duo of comedy (Peter Carlone and Chris Wilson) return to classic form, taking on the tropes and familiar stories of the holiday season with zeal. Don’t let the title fool you; the Dickens classic is a jumping off point for the show, but there is nothing formulaic or predictable about the story they weave (other than the fact that – like all of their shows – it’s about two best friends). What always impresses is how equally adept they are at both verbal banter and physical comedy; their dissection of the lyrics of a familiar Christmas ditty and a brilliant bit involving a mug are only two of many examples. Peter N’ Chris have been one of the most reliably hilarious acts to grace the Fringe circuit, and this show only serves to cement that reputation.

About Time

This high-brow production from the Templeton Philharmonic (Briana Templeton and Gwynne Phillips) sits comfortably between the genres of sketch revue and theatrical vignette. In either case, it’s a smart and occasionally ribald take on the passage of time and human history. Templeton and Phillips have excellent chemistry which results in tight and calculated performances. Their writing is equally strong; some scenes, such as one in which two refined ladies share tea while speaking almost entire in double-entendres, blend silliness and propriety in a way that invites comparisons to Monty Python’s Flying Circus, while other scenes, such as one about two entertainment correspondents reporting on the lives and fashion trends of various historical monarchies, are surprisingly informative. Rather than rely on blackout music, the scenes are cleverly tied together by a sonorous narrator with a seemingly endless supply of ridiculous analogies about the nature of time that helps to elevate the concept.

Bendy Sign Tavern

Sex-T-Rex have established a well-deserved reputation for consistently producing must-see Fringe productions; their past theatro-cinematic takes on the action movie, the western, the swashbuckler, and the post-apocalyptic thriller have all been highly physical and imagination-driven epics. That is why their latest production, Bendy Sign Tavern – a self-aware puppet show about the staff and patrons of a downtown pub (set in the physically limited space of the Paddock at Queen and Bathurst), looks, on paper, like such a departure. In reality, this production is as richly detailed as, and lacks none of the ambition of their previous work. The sheer number of characters and puppets that emerge from every nook and cranny of the space is remarkable; there are people, animals, a literal barfly, talking food, and more. One of them even doubles as an actual server, delivering drinks and food to the audience during the show.

The story and writing feels like a CBC or TVO kid’s show from the 80s or 90s that has been elevated for adult audiences, albeit without the acid cynicism of obvious comparison, Avenue Q; there is no shortage of heart in this show. The behind-the-puppet performers are uniformly hilarious and attack the multitude of roles with zeal, and the jokes and gags, both visual and verbal are all top notch. Non-puppet piano player Elliott Loran contributes both a pleasant background music, as well as a handful of toe-tapping original spotlight numbers that will have you singing along.

Bendy Sign Tavern is a magical experience that will leave your inner child beaming.

MacBeth Muet

There are few shows that manage to elicit laughter and delight as well as genuine visceral cringing with equal efficacy, but Montreal-based company La Fille Du Laitier’s MacBeth Muet does exactly that. This wordless (save for a few helpful title cards) retelling of The Scottish Play is a highly imaginative and fast-paced delight that sees household objects imbued with symbolism and whimsically transformed into Shakespeare’s characters to great effect. Director and sound designer Jon Lachlan Stewart artfully blends traditional performance and puppetry, with an expertly curated soundtrack that sets the tone and pace for the bite-sized scenes. Performers Clara Prévost and Jérémie Francoeur are captivating to watch as they bridge the worlds of tragedy and comedy, human and object.

MacBeth Muet is a perfect example of the power of independent theatre and how so much can be done with so little.

The Seat Next to the King

This New Play Contest winner from Steven Elliott Jackson delivers an impactful punch, telling the story of two gay men – one white, one black – who meet in a public washroom in 1964 Washington DC. Jackson’s script is pointed and tender in equal measure and manages to address an impressive number of socio-political facets that speak to both the past and present. Director Tanisha Taitt smartly avoids an unnecessarily complicated staging, instead allowing the characters and their forthright dialogue to flourish. Kwaku Okyere and Conor Ling deliver powerful nuanced performances and navigate the emotionally wide reaching material with grace.

Brief Shout Out

The Teeny Tiny Music Show: Vivacious and eccentric performer Hayley Pace’s site-specific tale of love and heartbreak is a charming and earnest entry in this year’s festival. It’s hard to say too much without spoiling the concept, but suffice to say that the title is more than a little misleading and anyone with an appetite for music would get their fill.