Author: Peter

Others have said most of what I would about Forbidden Fruits, so I’ll just highlight the excellent performances of Leah Walsh and Megan Donahue in “Losing It” and Leah again in “Camera Magic”. (“Losing It” also makes the most effective use of the Wolf stage that I’ve seen during the Fringe.)

The Body is one of two standout one-person shows I’ve seen at this year’s Fringe (the other being Jekyll & Hyde, of course). Andrew Zadel has written a story that takes several characters on both literal and figurative journeys, and the audience on yet another: pay attention. Lydia Zadel in turn does a great job of portraying the individual strengths and vulnerabilities of each of those characters; she makes it her show from start to finish, somehow even giving life and personalities to her characters’ unseen companions (and tormentors, past and present). When she stares into the audience at crucial moments there’s the unsettling sense that she’s looking right into your soul… and perhaps she is.

This one’s high on my list of performances to see again.

Murders (apparent)

4

Murders (actual)

2

Suicides

1

Rapes (including attempted)

4

Incarcerations

2

Births (offstage)

1

Demons

1

Angels

1

Songs performed (excluding musicals)

6

Musicals

1

Dancers

8

Women’s undergarments

5

Men’s undergarments

0

Transvestites

1

Days of Fringe finished

3

Days of Fringe remaining

7

Shows seen

12

Standing ovations

3

This is a well-written, well-acted and well-sung one-man show; but for some reason it left me cold (and that’s not a pun on the name). I really want to like it, and I’m sure everyone else will.

On a non-show topic, it’s nice to see one of the big draws promoting another Fringe performance. As for the bike crook, I hope you get two flat tires and a black eye as big as the one you gave the festival and the city.

Boulevard must be seen; a review can’t do justice to the wonder in Justin Quesnelle’s voice or the joy imparted by Lil Malinich’s silent exultation.

It’s something to see when Jorn-Bjorn Fuller-Gee climbs the walls of the Spriet Theatre. His Hyde runs the streets of the other London with such wild-eyed abandon that it’s genuinely scary, and Jekyll’s early dismissal of his alter ego’s disreputable actions borders on the psychopathic itself.

The Jekyll and Hyde story is often remembered as simply being about the transformations, but Iain MacFarlane’s script and Iain Ormsby-Knox’s direction don’t sidestep the acts that Hyde performs. Hyde’s first crime is made disturbingly real on stage, and the savagery of another attack is truly horrific.

To those (like me) who have met Fuller-Gee on the street, he seems the most unlikely person possible to play the monster, and only slightly less so Dr. Jekyll. Don’t let those impressions sway you: he embodies both characters so completely it’s hard to believe the actor himself isn’t seriously deranged.

The previous review calls this show a masterpiece; I submit that may be an understatement.

(Apologies to Iain Ormsby-Knox, who I inadvertently combined with Iain MacFarlane!)

Caralin Ruth has a gift (or is it a curse?) for expressing insecurity and self-doubt. The first scene in Chance’s apartment in Taking Chance is so note-for-note perfect it’s painful. It’ll be a rare soul who doesn’t find something in the play to identify with just a little too closely.

‘Scuse me, there’s this nagging voice in my brain telling me to stop typing now… but perhaps I’ve said too much….

As Neil Simon famously wrote for his character Lionel Twain, You’ve tricked and fooled your readers for years. You’ve tortured us all with surprise endings that made no sense. You’ve introduced characters in the last five pages that were never in the book before. You’ve withheld clues and information that made it impossible for us to guess who did it. Twain would be similarly outraged at The Red Brassiere, which ticks off cliche after cliche from the mystery checklist before copping out (har-de-har) on the ending. OK, I did snicker at the last conversation and its tag, but it took a long 77 minutes to get to it.

This is the first show I saw on Friday, and even if it had been the only one I could have seen—it wasn’t—I’d be a happy guy. (The other three are worth seeing too.)

The play is based on an excerpt from W. Shakespeare, but Jonathan De Souza remixes, deconstructs, silences, and reconstructs the dialogue. The script echoes itself and then echoes the echoes, playing with interpretation and emotion in a different way every time. It makes for a fascinating experience.

The actors are excellent; they handle everything the playwright launches their way, and he’s throwing heat. Even silent, they manage to preserve the meaning of each individual word. I lost track of how many characters each person plays, but it’s always clear who’s speaking—even in one sequence where it seems each actor says every other word playing a different character!

The set is clever, although it might be slightly too large for the McManus stage: the front row were in danger of losing kneecaps on a couple of wide rotations. The masks mentioned in an earlier post are classic and creepy—think of The Twilight Zone‘s Eye of the Beholder—and allow more range of facial expression than one might expect.

There are too many scenes and encounters to list, but one between two bookstore patrons is worth mention for being both disturbing and charming at the same time.

The only minor misstep is the musical number. The song works as an introduction—it’s catchy, in a West Side Story sort of way—but the reprise seems out of place, present only to bookend the earlier appearance and to provide an opportunity for the actors to take their (well-deserved!) bows.

I know it’s early to be making declarations, but I’m going to write this anyway: You Kiss by the Book is the class of the Fringe.