Reviews

So whimsical! So silly! I loved the performances, the gags, and the fairy tale vibe. Really energetic and charming acting from the two leads covered up moments that felt a bit slow or meandering. Lots of purple prose but not to the point of being grating if you’re buying into the whole thing, which I was.

The plot felt very nothing at all for the first 3/4, then all at once at the end. I have a really high tolerance for slice-of-life art and was enjoying just seeing these two lovely people interact, so I was actually kind of shocked that the plot came in that late! I wish it had either stayed the way it was going, or the plot had moved along a bit earlier so it didn't feel so rushed right at the end.

There were a lot of really charming and genuinely impressive moments of set design and prop work in here. I’m a simple man so I think I’m always gonna get got by water on stage, but also the little doll for stunts and the wiggly sound maker really delighted me!! I was a bit worried by the audience participation disclaimers on the ticket site because I came into this super jet lagged, but I think they struck a great balance and had a good amount, and nothing too high pressure. The actors were great at playing off awkward and lacklustre audience responses on the fly, which was unsurprising considering the kinds of comedic works I’ve seen them in before.

Overall I enjoyed the tone and thought this would be a slam dunk play for families. A lot of the jokes and exaggerated acting would play perfectly for kids while making the adult audience feel like kids.

The onion was diabolical though. I had to cover my eyes because I was so distressed on the actor's behalf. Someone get this person a Sterling Award just for that whew.

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.

Michael Gougis’s The Syllabus is an acerbic, awesome one-man show that skewers our modern media culture through the lens of modern academia with razor-sharp wit. Gougis is astute in his observations, effortlessly blending the absurdity of academia - and the broader culture - with his biting social commentary. It’s fast, funny, and packed with surprising observations —exactly the kind of humor that sticks with you long after the curtain falls. An A+ performance

I was not able to write a review of this show in a timely fashion. There were many details I took issue with, but too much time has gone by, and I didn’t write them down. Probably the biggest mistake the author made was to try and make a modern opera using directly quoted Elizabethan English. This was a musicalized Macbeth: if ever a work deserved to be adapted into an opera, it’s this one, and all credit to the composer for daring to follow in Verdi’s footsteps. But if it’s ever going to be more than a personal challenge, though, and you want it to become an artistic success, let alone a commercial one, you need to update it for modern audiences. Shakespeare is hard enough all by itself for modern readers to understand. It gets a little better when his works are viewed on stage, but the language is so archaic that comprehension relies heavily on the stagecraft of the actors, the choices made by the director, and the quality of the performance, which can vary wildly from day to day.

To then present such a work in a concert setting, without costumes, drops, scene changes, staging, etc. is dead boring. I couldn’t understand what was going on. I tried sitting there and just enjoying the musical composition, and the excellent musicianship of New Era Group, but it just wasn’t enough to arrest my attention, and overcome our modern short attention span. I left early.

The composer should analyze Shakespeare’s play, have a living writer create a new script that tells the story of Macbeth in 21st Century English, and proceed from there, if he’s really intent on creating a new Macbeth opera.

With a vulnerable, nuanced script, accompanied by visceral lighting and sound design, Tough Guy is brought to life by a brilliant cast that straddles the line between love and grief so present in the queer community. From losing a loved one in a senseless hate crime, to forgoing a family that cannot accept you, this tender play shows us that each tragedy is a worthy battle to find joy and community in a world that too often chooses hate and isolation.

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.

What a creative and engaging show! It took what seems like a pretty simple concept -- starting a university class during a political contentious and socially conscious time -- and built something very original and thought provoking. Kudos!

I really enjoyed Mark's ability to combine the narrative of his experience with comedy and music. He developed a show thats able to take the audience on his personal journey through both the good and the bad while reminding them that it's important to laugh no matter the circumstances.

The syllabus was a hilarious reminder of all of the quirky ways a teacher can be distracted or frustrated by his students. Micheal’s performance was a one man, fun filled walk down memory lane. His anecdotes about students’ misconduct and how he perceived them had us laughing and gave my partner and I new inside jokes. It was a well rounded play, it didn’t drag on. If anything, by the end I was looking forward to what his actual lesson about media! The play had jokes they kept giving when he brought them back around again (I feel this is a key to the best comedy). The show ended with an enlightening and thought provoking monologue. Go see it for yourself.

Thank you for the fun and hilarious gift of comedy before the dark days of fall are here!

Michael broke down the role media plays in our lives in ways we rarely notice. The meta concept was illuminating and worth exploring. Highly recommend to everyone who cares about the way the world learns and reacts to knowledge.