Espen Wang

I went into this hoping for something that felt like the New York Times’ Modern Love column. The concept of love is so broad that I was excited for the possibilities that might be explored in this work.

The best vignettes are, in my opinion, the shortest: sub-30 second wordless scenes of subtle expressions of love for another.

However, just about every scene with words are embarrassingly derivative. At best, this feels like the playwright was writing teen sitcom dialogue, both artificial and cliche. At worst, this feels like a teen’s writing exercise performed by a high school drama class, lacking the depth of life experience to write compelling and complex work. I was genuinely shocked by how predictable and unoriginal the dialogue was.

One memorable monologue over the phone was written in such an unusual way as to not sound like a real person talking. It felt like the playwright was speaking through the character with what they wished they had said in that situation, making for a weirdly stilted and moralizing scene.

The show opens with overlapping audio of people taking, as if to suggest this collection of scenes will explore a diverse range of experiences with love. This is demonstrably false. Of the scenes of romantic/sexual love, only a handful are of queer love. Of those, a couple are discussions of an absent “they” character; I personally don’t think you can count a mentioned character who isn’t even on stage as a queer presence. One other is a monologue about a gay couple getting an STI, and another is a scene of a queer woman’s unrequited love for her female (presumed straight) friend. These narratives are stereotypical and overwhelmingly negative; there is no exploration of the joy or complexities of queer love.

Likewise, this show could’ve been a slam dunk of diverse casting considering that there are four actors in the ensemble who move through various roles that could be any race. To talk about the diversity of love and not address mixed-race relationships, non-White cultural experiences of dating, or really anything that’s not White, straight size, heterosexual love feels very dated in 2026.

There was also product placement in two of the scenes, which just felt awkward and shoehorned in. There’s nothing quite like being jarred out of a play by the thought, “Is this an ad?”

Overall, nothing in the performances could sell this script to me. I neither felt entertained nor moved. Every emotion felt muted by the insincerity of the dialogue. When I come to an independent play by a local artist, I don’t come to hear sentences that belong in a cliche rom-com. I come to hear something original, something that surprises me or speaks to some kernel of truth about the human condition. Playwrights, I beg you to stop letting TV and film dialogue poison your work. Write something real.

I am by no means an expert on the relationship between Rumi and Shams, but I’m familiar enough with them to know that they are one of the great tragic homoromantic/homoplatonic love stories, up there with Gilgamesh and Enkidu, Achilles and Patroclus, and Cú Chulainn and Ferdiad. So I was a bit surprised and disappointed to see that our modern Shams and Rumi are a young heterosexual couple. The play explores the lives of these people in various possible universes, in various places. They even reference the original Shams and Rumi as they speculate what their lives could’ve been. They don’t shy away from mentioning that the two of them, old male Persian poets, were in love. So why shy away from it in writing and casting this show? I think this would’ve been a lot more interesting and challenging as a play with two male actors, or two female actors, or any other combination that was more subersive than what we got on stage.

That being said, there were several things here that I enjoyed. Scenes jumping frenetically between settings with continuous dialogue, cheeky transitions between scenes, and moving poetic monologues are some of the highlights. More importantly, the performances of the two leads is very impressive. I’m only familiar with Rumi’s actor, who I had previously watched in “Splattered” at NextFest this year in which he was a standout talent. I’ve never seen Shams’ actor before, but I am keen to see her in another play soon as she likewise matched her counterpart’s performance beat for beat.

In terms of writing, the dialogue felt a bit cliche or wooden at times. Or perhaps this was because one can’t help but compare the written dialogue in this to Rumi’s own poetry, which remains some of the best in the world even when translated into English. The show also felt quite long, as I wondered if some lines could’ve been cut or the pace tightened up.

My last small gripe is that these modern iterations of Shams and Rumi meet in a conventional way. Given how iconic the real Shams and Rumi’s meeting was, that was a disappointment.

I’m glad I got to see this play. I want more thoughtful theatre like this with an all-racialized creative team. I appreciate that there is very little translation or pandering to Whiteness in this work, and the cultural elements feel authentic and lived in. This playwright is certainly one to watch.

This was charming! I thought the campy vaudeville elements were cute and engaging, if sometimes a bit too long. The theremin bit was a highlight. The turn away from artifice and towards the personal in the final third was sweet, if a bit ham-fisted. Grief is a hot topic at the Fringe every year, and it’s hard not to compare this to works that explore it a bit more thoughtfully or creatively. Overall, this was a decent showing for this new work and I’d be interested to see what they come up with next.

I usually try to see at least one TYA show every Fringe, and this year I was excited to see Gordon bring something for the families. His work on WINNING:WINNING was some of my favourite of that year.

TYA is a different beast. An artist typically needs to juggle an educational or moralizing storyline, a decent pace that holds a child’s attention, and enough cleverness to intrigue an adult.

This show did just about all of that. The story was whimsical and silly, while achieving something moving enough to make me cry. I found the child audience participation segments to be genuinely delightful and varied for the kids. Of all the shows, I was not expecting this one to have a wordless mise-en-abyme segment in between kids pelting a castle with balls and the short king miming a turtle ride; this is not your average TYA show.

Gordon achieves something lovingly personal here. Elements of his real life memories of his best friend are woven into the show. It feels like we are flipping through his scrapbook, made hopeful and charming through comedy.

I’m so glad this artist returned this year. I highly anticipate what he brings next.

Firstly, this performer is undeniably talented. His performance is tightly-rehearsed, he has a smooth flow, and he goes on for a dense 60 minutes. His storytelling moves seamlessly into spoken word poetry, which is something a bit more exciting than the regular guy-with-a-mic style of storytelling we see at the Fringe.

Most of the writing itself is solid, with plenty of rap-style punchlines that brought each story to a clever end. There are somewhat cliche and derivative bits throughout that we’ve already seen before, for example when discussing what it would be like if men had periods.

Discussion of racism is fairly entry-level and didactic, probably suited to an older Whiter crowd who isn’t totally familiar with antiblackness in Canada. I prefer something a bit more artful and nuanced from political art, that doesn’t feed every right answer to the audience.

Overall, I think this is a solid showing at the Fringe. And perhaps, considering the very, very low numbers of shows with Black leads in the festival and our theatre community generally, something accessible to a broad audience that can comment on racism without making them uncomfortable is still needed. Personally, I’m looking for something that pushes further.

The more plays you see in Edmonton, the more you start to recognize certain performers and seek out their work. Eli and Rain greatly impressed me with their performance last year in Victor and Victoria’s Terrifying Tale of Terrible Things, so I was keen to see this play, my first time experiencing their playwriting.

The great strength of this show is in its performances. Eli and Rain show off their comedy range, slipping physical jokes into the spaces between lines. So many delightful little gags and bits in here, along with charming prop usage.

I was also happy to see live accompaniment. It not only brought the musical numbers to life, but added comedic value with the pianist getting to do her own bits. There was a rather heavy-handed, thesis statement moment in the show that was made less grating by the pianist’s music and comedic support.

The pace slowed down in the second half with some of the musical numbers feeling a bit sleepy. However, the final song was a heartwarming choice sung beautifully by Rain in particular.

I almost wanted this show to be longer, if only to explore the message a bit more in depth. It felt a bit skimmed over because so much time had been spent introducing us to these characters. I ageeed with the general theme, but it didn’t get mined enough to resonate with me.

“Wait. Is this fucking play about us?!” - Euphoria

Martin Dockery scratches an itch I have for clever, fast-talking, ridiculously repetitive plays that ouroboros just until the edge of complete frustration. It’s been years and I’m still not sick of his work. The Review is about a performance review. But maybe it’s also about play reviews.

This one doesn’t go quite as abstract as some of his other two-handers, like The Stakeout or Long Night of the American Dream. I think it’s worse off for it, but maybe the guy got tired of hearing people complain about how they couldn’t understand his plays.

I have seen Fear Fables every year it’s been put on at the Fringe. As with any anthology show, there are a few high highs, a few low lows, and plenty of numbers in between the two. While I can always count on Emmonia’s cheeky hosting, beautiful set pieces, stunning costumes, and an effective ending, there are also some common misfires. Shoehorning performances that don’t quite fit into the theme and lackluster lip syncs are just as common in this show.

While there were a few highlights in the show this year, particularly Karly Klimax’s hilarious, energetic, and well-rounded number, the gap in quality between the performances was noticeably wider than in previous years.

This is the kind of show that should be in a more intimate venue. With a theatre like the Westbury, you could theoretically be seated several metres away from the performers and miss the details. The space feels cold, and the classic interaction between drag queen and audience becomes awkward and sterile. There’s no dancing through the crowd to collect cash or do bits with the audience. If a queen wants to climb the risers, the house lights go up and the magic of this spooky show is immediately disrupted.

To pick on one more small element that made a big difference, one of the numbers had music that was much quieter than the others. This muted the effect of the performance and honestly kind of felt awkward. I don’t know if this was an issue with the audio file or the techs or what, but it made for a somewhat subdued crowd.

This wasn’t enough to turn me off Fear Fables, but next year I likely won’t prioritize it in my schedule.

Somehow I’ve been tricked by genre fraud 3 times this Fringe. This show was tagged as physical theatre. I don’t think that’s true! It was a decent show, but there was actually very little physical theatre compared to many other shows tagged as comedy, drama, clown, etc. this festival. It’s mostly the lead talking and monologueing for the majority of the show. The promise of physical theatre going unfulfilled is especially disappointing as this is the only show under this genre at the Fringe this year.

There are a few things I still liked in this. The monologues are at times poetic and thoughtful. There is some really nice prop work, especially with the sheet/shroud. The costumes are also a lot of fun, as well as hiding a cheeky surprise.

However, the pacing is fairly slow. It was tough to focus when the show was meandering along sleepily in one of the most uncomfortable venues (Acacia). There was also a moment of audience participation near the end that was awkward rather than cathartic because it felt unearned.

I think there’s a possible future where this show gets tightened up a bit more and I enjoy it a lot. It teases a few ideas about the unfairness/inevitability of death that could’ve been moving had the play been workshopped a little more.

“The land will catch you.”

Firstly, the sound design of this show was outstanding and some of the best of the festival. The audio was so intricate and seamless as to feel cinematic, which is a truly special thing to experience in live theatre. What an achievement that I can only assume is through collaboration between the precise talents of the designers, the meticulously-rehearsed efforts of the actor, and the conscientious work of the techs.

The story itself is solid, both funny and moving. I loved the elements of Indigeneity woven into the fabric of the play. I’ve reached the point in the festival where the thought of seeing another one-person storytelling show is daunting at best, but this performer kept me engaged even at a very late night show near the end of a hectic festival.

Of the announced holdover shows, this is the one I’m most happy to see bag a spot. More eyes need to get on this show.