That's a Wrap-Up: Fringe '07 (Part 2 of 2)

Due to the dozens upon dozens of comments that were dropped yesterday on my first post demanding more of the same, but which were unfortunately not published due to a malfunctioning comments engine, I humbly offer part deux of my 2007 Vancouver International Fringe Festival Wrap-Up Reviews. Read on, Macduff...

The Kenny Rogers Experience by Jacques Lalonde. One Crazy Frenchman

This is your daddy's theatre. Unless a benign Kenny Rogers impersonator hosting a K-Tel Heartbeats Collection karaoke session while dropping pop culture bon mots on Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, and the Olsen twins is your bag. It ain't mine, but if they threw this Experience up in, say, Salmon Arm, dollars to doughnuts it would be the greatest cultural event to ever hit their community centre, and tales of its hilarity would be passed down from generation to the next. Kudos to the six lovely backup singer/dancers who gamely attacked the ridiculously literal choreographed adaptations of each lyric while managing to somehow keep their dignity intact. All that having been said, the Waterfront was packed to the rafters with an audience of all ages having a ball, singing along with gusto and working their provided paper bag Kenny puppets for all they were worth. But I'm sorry, I can't even ironically get it up for an Islands in the Stream sing-along without at least five beers, and the bar was closed.

Lurker by Don Nigro. The Roguespeare Players

I almost missed this one, but luckily scored a cherry spot right in front of the Pacific Theatre on 12th round about my third time circling the block. Let me start by saying it was extremely unfair of the Fringe to stick a 20 minute short so far off of Granville Island in a theatre with no decent available parking. I love short plays when they're done well, it's an unfortunately overlooked form of theatre that deserves more exploration; quick, concise, conversation-provoking vignettes that are perfect to fill the little holes in your Fringe schedule. However, this one...not so fond thereof. I left the theatre 20 minutes after I entered not feeling much different than when I went in. The fault is largely the play itself, I've never been a Don Nigro fan, and Lurker did nothing to change that. It's one of those ideas that really should have been a short film, two characters occupying separate worlds who narrate the action and their inner monologues as they perform them: she an unsuspecting (or is she?) backyard sunbather and he a voyeur branching out into stalkerism. The action leading up to a bland "surprise" climax was directed very literally, and as such there was never any connection between the two actors at all. For their parts, Sheila Burns and Jason Beaudoin managed to be interesting enough to watch, but they seemed to be acting in two different plays that never came together. And for such provocative subject matter, I was never once scared or even concerned for anyone involved. And I concern easily.

Dickens of the Mounted by Eric Nicol, adapted by Brad Lepp & Kristian Bruun. Beyond Chutleigh Productions

All I really want out of the time and money I invest in a Fringe Fest is one truly astonishing and inspiring theatrical experience and, by Dickens, I found it. Lucky too, it almost got bumped off of my hit list by a tepid review in the Straight, but it fit just nicely into my power-Fringing schedule to get me to work right on time. A one-man show performed by Bruun and directed by Lepp, they adapted it from a wonderful 1989 biography by Nicol about Frank Dickens, third son of that Dickens who served a 12-year term as a Mountie and an incorrigible lush. Bruun as Dickens, in an air-tight and spit-polished performance, takes us on a guided tour through all 12 years that had the packed house captivated from start to finish, using only three tickle trunks and two planks to create everything from the bar he was seated at as we entered the Firehall Theatre, trying to summon some of his great father's inspiration into his pen, to his problematic horse, to epic battlefields. Each of the many transitions and costume changes was graceful and seamless, buttressed by the 39 shows that preceded this final one (with the 87 year-old Nicol himself in attendance) on their cross-country tour, I'm sure. Watching Bruun was a joy, he wore his love for both the historical subject matter and simply the language of the dazzling script on his Canadiana-red sleeve. An all-around satisfying play about a man who otherwise would have slipped through the cracks of history, told by men who have found their calling. I left wanting to be friends with all of them, walking six inches off the ground.

Photo courtesy of beyond chutleigh productions