Jon Bennett is back at the Fringe with “Playing With Men”: a poignant, heartfelt, yet hilarious call to action that everyone should experience.
Clad in his favorite footie uniform, Bennett frenetically recounts sordid tales about growing up with fellow footballers in the Australian Outback, where punching the other guy when you're down a few goals is not only encouraged, but expected. Bodily fluids, curse-laden chants, and underage drinking set the hypermasculine stage that so many of us grew up taking for granted.
What makes this show incredibly special is Bennett's ability to take us on a journey that starts with “boys will be boys" antics, but culminates in a critically important message about loss, vulnerability, and what it really means to be a man. You may feel some discomfort along the way, but that's the whole point. After all, changing the narrative isn't an easy task, but if you’re about to man up Bennett's way, then it's worth every single second.
Fans of the absurd, the unhinged, and the just-plain-hilarious should flock to The 11 o'clock Number. This completely improvised musical comes together before your very eyes with just a few suggestions from the audience, and keeps you guessing what's going to happen next.
Saturday afternoon’s audience was treated to a rousing performance of “The Greatest Man Cave Ever": a love letter to male sanctuaries, where tools, Farah Fawcett posters, and beer fridges reign supreme. The incredible cast worked in a malfunctioning army of man-bots, a sensual love scene in a craft room, and a solo by a taxidermied moose. Oh, and they were all backed by a tremendously sharp keyboard player who also improvised the score throughout the show.
You might not get any smarter by watching a show like this, but you sure will appreciate the talent required to pull this thing off. Even I, a seasoned Fringer, had to remind myself at several points that this was all completely made up on the spot. It's shows like this that really raise the improv bar at the Fringe and remind us how lucky we are to have such high calibre talent right here in Edmonton.
Every Fringer hopes to discover a hidden gem; one that offers more than just an hour of fun, and keeps you thinking for days, if not weeks after. The Real Black Swann: Confessions of America's First Black Drag Queen IS that show and I implore you to check it out.
Beginning in a present-day hospital room, Kurkendaal Barrett is visited by a ghost from the past: William Dorsey Swann, AKA The Queen of Drag, and the first American queer Black activist in the 1800s.
Swann, the most resilient, fierce, and confident trailblazer you've never heard of, is worth the cost of admission. But you'll stay for Kurkendaal Barrett’s captivating storytelling that weaves past and present together so masterfully that you might start to think that he and Swann are old friends. Each contending with racism, police violence, and homophobia together, though more than a hundred years apart.
This show will compel you to conduct your own research and do your part to uplift the stories of Swann and other marginalized folks before they are lost to time. And while you're at it, learn to cake walk and feel comfortable in your own skin, knowing that Swann is right there beside you, cheering you on.
In Story, Story, Lie, three accomplished Fringe performers will have you guessing which one is lying as they regale you with stories that will test your grasp of reality.
Saturday afternoon's audience was really put to the test. Was the liar the lesbian who flirted her way out of a trespassing ticket while trying to paint a rainbow on the roof of a campus building? The West Virginia child who spent the better part of a year trying to figure out if his grosspapa was scheming to kill one of Santa's reindeer? Or perhaps it was the magician whose sleight of hand didn't get him the girl, but appeased a police officer instead.
If you need more information to make up your mind, you're invited to grill each performer by asking questions to trip up the most seasoned of liars, and even vote on who you think it is.
The one thing I can guarantee is that this glowing review isn't a lie. Each show promises a different cast that has been hand-picked for their poker faces and storytelling abilities, so repeat visitors will never see the same show twice! Think you have what it takes to sniff out a lie? Go see this show before it sells out and see for yourself!
Do you believe in ghosts? I mean, really believe? Have you seen one? Have you heard one give one tap for “yes"? Or is it just a feeling?
The Vaudevillian ghost medium, complete with jaunty moustache and tailcoat, is sure that the ghosts require your enthusiasm to make contact with the spirit world. If you call yourself a believer, Dr. Silkini (Gwendolyn Coburn) wants you to yell it from the rafters. Even skeptics are invited to humor him as he performs a series of parlour tricks that just might do the job.
The Importance of Being Haunted is quintessentially Fringe because there's so much more you'll take with you than a few ghost-summoning pointers. What begins as a clown show with visual gags, amusing vignettes, and some impressive dance moves, ends with a poignant message about grief and loss. Why have humans been trying to make contact with the afterlife for generations? What is it we're really looking for? Perhaps Silkini can conjure up an answer or two for you.
Whether you're a true crime nut or simply a curious soul with a strong stomach, you'll be sure to be riveted by CULTS! Gather round while your charismatic leader recounts the sordid and often murderous stories of five real groups - some of which are still operating today - whose doomsday prophecies had devastating consequences. Even self-proclaimed cult buffs will learn something new (and horrifying).
While cults are no laughing matter, this show points out the absurd and bizarre elements of cults that compel us to scratch our heads. And this venue (ironically in a church basement) becomes a safe space to express that bewilderment with a room full of like-minded individuals.
The engaging and often unbelievable (but true) stories would allow this show to stand on its own. But the message being sent is also critically important, especially with MAGA’s influence crossing the border at an alarming rate. Critical thought is sacred, and actively questioning and calling out fear mongering and snake oil salespeople might just be the key to resisting a cult’s dangerous allure.
Grant Canyon (Ryan Gladstone) is back after a not-so-short hiatus, bigger, badder, and more turpentine-drunk than ever. In this action-packed caper, you'll see him throw punches, receive even more punches, pose nude, and even fight a shark.
RIGHT PLACE, WRONG MAN may be a one-man show, but Gladstone is a master storyteller, constantly morphing into a cast of colorful characters, from Russian mobsters to snooty British art collectors, and keeping the audience guessing which accent he'll pull out next.
Although this show is packed with hysterical one-liners and similes that would make Leslie Nielsen proud, I dare say that a few small technical glitches actually amplified the hilarity. For instance, Gladstone playfully pointed out a couple of delayed effects by weaving them into each scene like a pro, leaving the audience in stitches.
If the first show was any indication, future audiences are in for a real treat. Run, don't walk - your life might depend on it.
If a multitalented and industrious former Canada's Got talent contestant like Herbert is struggling to find work, we're all doomed. But maybe, just maybe, a potential corporate sponsor will be able to give him the boost he so deserves.
During this 45-minute job interview, see him flex his comedic muscles, perform death-defying feats, dazzle you with improv, and pepper you with visual gags and hilarious one-liners, and see for yourself what Herbert could do for your business. Hell, he'll even mow your lawn or sell you a sexual innuendo if you need one.
Delivering jokes with a deadpan, yet earnest demeanor may not land him a CEO gig, but I think Herbert's onto something. Friday afternoon’s audience was laughing non-stop before the beer tent even opened, which, in my opinion, is a sign of a winning candidate.
If you want to do him a solid, put yourself on the interview panel (in a cushy seat in the Walterdale Theatre), and put him to the test. After all, Herbert Needs Work, and in this economy, it might take a few more performances to get there.
The world we live in is complicated. Turning on the news or logging into social media accounts can be upsetting, anxiety-inducing, and deeply isolating. Countries Shaped Like Stars, playing at the Backstage Theatre until February 28, not only provides a welcome reprieve from the chaos happening all around us, but also infuses warmth into the city’s recent cold snap.
If only for an hour, let Gwendolyn Magnificent (Dayna Lea Hoffmann) and Bartholomew Spectacular (Michael Watt) bring you into their enchanting world: a time when countries were shaped like stars, dragon fruit grew in abundance, and two individuals from two different peninsulas found each other and fell in love. In true Fringe fashion, simple innovations transform an otherwise empty theater into a fantastical world: a string of lights hanging from the ceiling becomes twinkling stars, and wooden boxes transform into a bustling marketplace and the site of a budding romance. But don’t let the simplicity fool you - this show accomplishes a lot with very little.
The heart of this production comes from human connection that transcends the fourth wall. The audience sits in a circle around the stage and plays an integral part in creating theatre magic. No longer passive observers, we are invited to act like tweeting birds and wriggling fish popsicles (if you know, you know), participate in tin can phone calls, sing along to Batholomew’s playful tunes, and enjoy cookies delivered by clouds. This multi-sensory experience is a powerful reminder of the importance of forming communal connections with friends and fellow theatre lovers - in this country, unbridled silliness is not only permitted, but strongly encouraged.
Whether you’re starving for a dose of humanity in a world divided or looking for an escape to a far-off land where copywriters gleefully recite poetry and play mandolins, Countries Shaped Like Stars is sure to deliver.
One of the central tensions in theatre, particularly theatre that grapples with difficult subject matter, is finding the right balance between realism and effective storytelling. Tough Guy, a new play by Hayley Moorhouse following a queer friend group coping with the aftermath of a nightclub shooting, is a sincere examination of queer grief, joy, and resilience, but sometimes struggles to land with full force.
At its core, Tough Guy explores how people grieve both as individuals and as a community, and the way these processes are sometimes in conflict. When filmmaker Emerson returns to her hometown after a year away wanting to make a film about a tragic event she wasn’t present for, it throws her friend group into disarray as they debate a host of necessary questions: What does it mean to make art about queer pain? Who has the right to tell those stories? Where is the line between art and exploitation? Autumn Strom is a delight in the role, striking the perfect note of earnest self-involvement with slightly cringy monologues that were painfully reminiscent of my own early 20s as a queer person.
One of Tough Guy’s strengths is that while the precipitating event is obviously the central trauma impacting the characters, each also deals with their own struggles in a way that makes the characters feel true to life. Queer people often juggle multiple sources of heartbreak: parental rejection, political prejudice, not to mention the thousand small disappointments every young person experiences, from friends growing apart to career uncertainties. While this is realistic, there is at times so much going on with the characters on top of the central trauma that the story risks losing focus.
Tough Guy also sometimes makes the opposite mistake, choosing practicality over realism in distracting ways. Quinn, an amateur boxer attempts to work through their grief via their sport. However, actor Jasmine Hopfe never strikes the on-set punching bag with more than a token amount of force. While it’s understandable to take safety precautions, there’s something profoundly jarring about watching a character metaphorically fight through trauma while the actor literally pulls their punches.
Despite these challenges, Tough Guy succeeds where it matters most. As Sutton, Marguerite Lawler provides some much-needed levity, simultaneously demonstrating how humour helps us cope with unimaginable pain while also occasionally causing friction with those who grieve differently. While the script could benefit from revisions and some staging choices could use refinement, Tough Guy deserves to be seen. It’s important, powerful theatre that finds the intersection of queer grief, joy and resilience.