A Curated Exit

A very interesting concept for a play! I found the first half a bit more difficult to follow and at times slow moving. By the second half I felt very intrigued at what was happening and how it would end.

I came into this show with high hopes and in my humble opinion they delivered! It did take me a couple of scenes to "catch up" to the story but as soon as I did the dread began that there would be a devastating ending. And it was delivered. The whole show explores how we fear our own death and what lengths we would go to to spare ourselves the horror and sadness of watching someone die. It is played in a series of flashbacks and forwards and the transitions really help you with the feeling of grief that permeated the whole play. The actors did an amazing job, their chemistry is undeniable and as their story progressed I found myself forgetting they weren't a real couple. One of my favourite shows this season. I would 100% go to see it again if it rolled through town

This 2-person play addresses a very intriguing premise on how we deal with grief and death. The direction and the production is solid, and the acting is good. And the script does stick the landing.

For future runs of the show, I'd suggest a mild reworking of the first half -- it was somewhat scattered to follow, and felt a little slow and cliched. Some reorganizing or trimming of the early scenes would bring a stronger payoff.

As it was, this emerging play by up-and-coming Fringe artists is worth a risk. A decently fulfilling watch.

A relatable, playful, and futuristic story of love, loss, and grief.

I'd recommend A Curated Exit!

An ambitious and partially realized show.

I come from a family of pragmatists who discuss last wishes and DNR's at the dinner table, so I figured this would be up my alley and it, partly, was.

The writer set themself an ambitious task in grappling with issues of mortality, immortality, and technology in a one hour Fringe show. I think they partially succeeded. I particularly liked the main characters journey back and forth around the issues of death and acceptance. I also liked the working in of "grief bots" and our increasingly complex personal relationships with anthropomorphized technology.

My main challenges in watching the show were structural. It took me a while to catch the timeline of what was happening, and the monologue at the end appeared to come a bit out of left field and not be referencing anything from earlier in the story. I can't say more on that without spoiling the ending so I will leave it at that. Lastly some of the material was hard to hear with either background soundtracks or the microphone system,

good story just hard to relate...

Our relationship with death is our relationship with truth. In this ambitious two-hander, Zoe works tirelessly to repackage mortality. You'll hear snappy taglines, meaningless ad-speak, and saccharine sentimentality - all designed to make the horrible palatable by disappearing it entirely. But is there enough chocolate in the world to make the pill of death go down smoothly?

At her side, the reasonable foil to her charming avoidance, is her husband Steve, played with ease by Devon Sands. His death is both the beginning and end of the story, and his presence offers a meaningful calm to the unfolding calamity. Sands uses his comedic chops to voice BOB, the Siri-like AI that has all the information and none of the answers. The writing of the trio is clever: Zoe is the breaking heart, BOB is the helpless brain, and Steve is the mortality that neither one can solve.

Kristy Woollam plays Zoe with heart and humour, and her endearing performance is the central pillar of the production. After all, the story of death is the story of life, and the story of life is, ultimately, a love story. The sincerity and affection at the heart of this play is what makes it all work.

In my mind, the script could benefit by clarifying what, precisely, Zoe's business does to a corpse. The slogans are clever, but they somewhat shroud the particulars of the biz.

The play is quite generously peppered with funny lines and sly jokes - though the vulnerability of the performances might keep you from laughing too loudly. The script remains true to its cause; it doesn't offer you an easy out. No slogan, no revelation, no artistic cop-out arrives to offer consolation. It will also spare you fruitless discussions about the plausibility of an afterlife; that's not the point. The point is the body on the table.

A Curated Exit is a smart, witty play with no small serving of artistic gumption. It's touching. It's a little rough around the edges. It's worth seeing.

I had difficulty with this one. The actors could stand to project more, because I had a hard time hearing them many times. The play itself was decently written and brought up some interesting ideas about the interaction between technology and uniquely human experiences. However, I don't think that the actors' abilities were fully capable of truly communicating such a deeply emotional subject. Not a complete bust, but I wouldn't recommend.

It’s hard to judge the quality of the script because the performance of the lead left me wanting. Their acting was flat at times and artificial at others. The quality of acting performances at the Fringe varies greatly, but I found myself wishing this performer had more experience and detailed direction.

It’s a shame, because the concept was compelling and I felt there were some good moments. However, the effect of several scenes were dampened by unoriginal dialogue that felt more daytime sitcom conflict than independent theatre. Places where tension should’ve built fell flat. That said, the transitions were fine (particularly the sound design) and the interspersing of flashbacks to the present day were solid. The bones were decent and I think more workshopping could’ve improved this significantly.

A well acted thought provoking look at death and technology. Lots of funny moments and overall a wonderful break from improvised shows. I loved it

What happens when the product sold by pioneers of technology isn’t a cellphone or computer, but a final goodbye— a final alleviator of grief?

Directed by Richard White and written by Kristy Woollam, A Curated Exit follows Zoe as she navigates the death of her husband, Steve— played by Devon Sands—, in a world where your last breath is not your last impression. Woollam presents a dystopia in which a general desensitization towards death has altered individuals’ ability to cultivate human connection and grapple with grief. Zoe acts as an almost influencer-esque figure, promoting “A Curated Exit”— an implant that replaces the freshly dead with their desired, holographic legacy— in a jubilantly detached fashion.

In addition to its exploration of influencer culture, A Curated Exit delves into the emotional effects of artificial intelligence through the chipper AI, Bob. As Zoe sinks deeper into her grief, Bob acts as an anchor, dragging her further into an ocean of despair. The themes of this show are of an incredible caliber and sincerely relevant to modern discourse, however their delivery is somewhat hindered by other elements of the production. Some of the lines came off as stilted and the visible transitions between scenes killed the magic of the nonlinear narrative. Nonetheless, the main ideas within the play came through.

Ultimately, A Curated Exit presents a nuanced understanding of many facets of our modern day. From the dangers of technology to the human truth of grief, every theme within this show is intertwined in a beautiful dramatic tapestry and is absolutely worth the watch if you’re seeking something unique and profound.

I'm glad I brought my handkerchief to this, but I wouldn't tell you to avoid it if you're afraid of crying. It's very moving. The play is extremely well written and extremely well enacted. Seriously thought-provoking with lots interest of laugh aloud moments interwoven within the grim subject, how do we make our final exit something special and memorable? The answer in this play might surprise you.