Bailey’s Reviews - FringeMTL 2025
THESPIS
When Thespis was billed as a more traditional theatre production, I was excited to see what was in store. Growing up, community theatre was a big part of my life and seeing any non-professional production now brings up old memories.
Entering Théâtre La Comédie de Montréal always feels a bit like stepping into a time warp with the postered windows a few years out of date and the obnoxious paint design from a few decades ago.
However, this show definitely had the highest production value of any Fringe show I’ve seen in the last few years. The set itself felt like a blast from the past. Two old-timey radios on either side of the stage place our show in some alternate version of the mid 20th century. Gray blocks with paint speckles become the main furniture pieces, along with a desk and chair on stage right. The set was visually appealing and functional. It added believability to the story. The costumes were not just purchased from a Village des Valuers, they were curated and made to fit each person. There were belts and accessories and color-based symbolism. Shout out to the difference it makes when you have a costume & set designer on board like Keren Amiga!
The play, written by Justin Côté, made parallels to modern day with questions of safety, addiction, forgiveness, and going after what you believe is right. The plot follows a family living in a totalitarian homeland who struggles with the return of the eldest son who has visited the outside world and brought back new ideas with him. Things were building up to a show within a show that turned out to be…not much of a show? I think they had to make a lot of cuts for time and some things got lost.
The acting ranged from very good to decent. Lisa McCormack (Next to Normal from Contact Theatre, Into the Woods from CSL Dramatic Society) is a familiar face who does an excellent job of adding emotional depth to every scene she’s in as “Esther”. Clara Costa’s “Alex” has their loyalty questioned but I had no question about Clara’s commitment to the craft as actor or director! Antonella Ruffolo also shines as the conflicted mother, “Claire”. Justin Côté plays the ‘straight man’ “Theo” well and is supported by Megan Roche’s “Tina”. Kreg Weiss plays the unlikeable “Roger” and I had to wonder if he struggled with finding his character’s motivation because he started strong but didn’t seem to know where to go from there.
Now, I have to share my biggest complaint - the slow scene changes. Every time there was a scene change, the show lost pacing and energy. I know, it’s Fringe, and there isn’t a ton of time to rehearse the technical aspects, but you can feel when it is not a priority.
Based on the laughs and applause from other members of the crowd, if you’re a big lover of community theatre like myself, this show might be for you.
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boKa
We’ve all got big feelings about clowns, but what if there was a show where the clown had big feelings about being a clown?
Enter boKa.
As I make my way to the venue, Mount-Royal Avenue is crowded with people - shopping, dining, meandering, and someone skating recklessly to show off to a girl who is clearly unimpressed. Once I turn on Henri-Julien, I am greeted by the pleasant change in volume, the ambience transforms into quiet chatter in the several small parks along the way. The front lobby of Le Conservatoire de musique et d'art dramatique de Montréal might feel like a big change from the hustle and bustle of most venues in the festival. A small printed sign reading “FringeMTL” points you to the second level where two stages reside.
Studio Multimédia du Conservatoire seats fewer people than its neighbor, Studio Jean Valcourt, but somehow feels a similar size with the few props and chairs that create the set. A blanket dotted with stuffed animals stands out immediately amongst the black trashbags that litter the stage. A large stand is inhabited by a grumpy-looking square creature and I wonder what the heavy duty clamps will be used for.
Being one of eight people in the audience, it feels very intimate as Kathleen Aubert (sans red nose yet) reassures people who struggle to notice the unmarked step to the seating that ‘everyone trips on their way in’.
Once the lights dim and the show begins, I am a little taken aback when spoken to directly from the performer, as I typically enjoy the break from spoken word that I have come to expect from clown shows. Kathleen speaks in Franglish, switching between the two languages without missing a beat (literally, there’s a metronome). With each word, I am welcomed into a world where it’s ‘maddening’ to be a clown.
From the moment the red nose is adorned, the show is a well timed, well choreographed, and endearing piece where we fall in love with a clown that struggles to fill out the black and white checkboxes that society pressures us to fit into (as seen by prompts attached to the stand using those heavy duty clamps). Under the constant scrutiny of a watchful overlord, boKa endeavors to understand their own gender, language, and occupation. While the themes can feel heavy, I find myself smiling and cheering boKa on, then leaving feeling inspired to keep looking for the small joys in life.
The poster mentions this is a 10th Anniversary Edition, and while we were definitely exploring these themes in 2015, it somehow feels more relevant now to ponder questions of identity and how we “fit in” whilst feeling the oppressive nature of Quebec’s new language laws and the ongoing devastation to human rights in the not-so-United States.
All in all, if you like clowns, physical comedy, or watching a wholesome performance at the Fringe, you will love this show.
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BRAIN
Have you ever wanted to do something creative but your running mental to-do list wouldn’t allow it? Tried to have a serious conversation with someone but couldn’t turn off the song that’s been stuck in your head? Felt the urge to throw a tantrum but had to force yourself not to?
Well, this show answers why your brain does some of these things!
With the air quality warning in full effect, I was feeling a bit off. I wanted to be outside to enjoy my first full Fringe day, but it wasn’t the most pleasant experience as I masked while volunteering at Fringe Park. I left at the end of my shift looking forward to sitting back, relaxing, and enjoying a show.
Upon entering the lovely air conditioned space at Studio Jean-Valcourt du Conservatoire, I am invited to grab a ball. Now, I love to play probably more than the next person but as I nurse a stomach ache from a mixture of the poor air quality and the poor timing of my last meal, I hope that there won’t be too much audience participation.
Something about being greeted by the performers - who are already in an argument with each other about where people should sit - tells me I need to get over my stomach ache real fast. The stage is set with one black box on each side, several props, and the black curtains at the back of the stage are slowly being populated by large sticky notes of things the brain needs to remember. The red and blue lighting reflects the mostly monochromatic colored costumes of our two performers. Here, the audience plays the role of neurons, which Right (Marissa Sauve) and Left (Jillian Burke) need in order to send signals to our offstage protagonist, Human. Sure enough, we neurons are given roles and prompts to respond to throughout the show. While this is lots of fun, I didn’t have the energy in me to fully enjoy it.
The show gives accurate information on how your brain works (can confirm since I’m a therapist) through easily digestible jokes and a musical medley. Then, the plot thickens as the two are sporadically interrupted by blackouts in which Right struggles to grasp at something that’s happening (or perhaps has already happened?) to Human. I see the struggles of many I know reflected in this disconnect between the two halves, trying to work together but having a tough time.
Sauve does an impressive job of balancing a plethora of emotions, ominous monologues, and big swings in energy. Burke keeps the whole show on track with their professionalism and charm.
The play is written and directed by Blair Moro, whose show, Cabaret of Murder, was successful at last year’s Fringe. Blair gives the performers good source material and great direction. The comedic timing is on point, the staging is effective, and the message is clear: We need to be better at connecting to get through the hard times.
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CREATURES OF HABITS
It’s late afternoon on a Sunday and I am making another climb up Saint Laurent for more Fringe. Anytime I stop moving, my legs tingle a little from all the walking. That’s a good thing, right?
I find La Chapelle to be a homey venue with its single banner outside and barely enough space for a ticket booth. There’s a sitting room inside with a window for the bar. The bartender is always kind, despite not having much space back there.
I arrived just in time as the last few people were taking their seats. Turning my attention to the stage: It was like walking into a live portrait of the Great Depression with two women in drab colors ironing and folding a never ending string of clothes. On the other side of the stage, a chain of women took turns braiding each others’ hair while wearing forlorn expressions. A single rug, a lamp, and a laundry hamper are the only other things populating the space.
Having had several dancer friends, I have seen my fair share of modern dance pieces. I have a “huh - meh” relationship with them. I have yet to see one that absolutely knocked my socks off nor one that I vehemently disliked. Typically, I walk away being underwhelmed or feeling intrigued by the ideas and movements presented.
This production was separated into several different pieces that were linked thematically. The description mentions ‘letting our inner child interact with the world’ and ‘letting our intrusive thoughts win sometimes.’ The dancers were using the props so convincingly that the whole audience let out a gasp and I had a visceral reaction when a particular prop was touched in a way you should not touch that thing! From that point on, we were in the palms of seven very competent storytellers that needed no words to convey how stuck we can be in our habits and our fixed relationship to domesticity.
I was particularly struck by what seemed to be a mother-child piece (or maybe inner child) where the elder had their ways of being and the younger one challenged them. Why do we have to put that rug there? What’s the point of pointing the lamp away from the centre of the room? The interaction moved from playful to frustrated and I felt my need for novelty stir too.
There was a beautiful moment where, much like the thumbnail for the show, two dancers were rolling over each other and their hair became an extension of the lines, but also the mess. It was controlled chaos and I had feelings.
Creatures of Habits landed more on the side of an interested “huh” for me. I’m still thinking about the themes and I presume that’s how they wanted me to feel… For a contemporary dance piece, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
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MOUSE TRAP!
After accidentally going to the wrong venue yesterday (thanks, Google Maps!), I was happy to be in the right place to see this show. As I got the wind knocked out of me by those steep stairs, I suddenly remembered I had been in the Halbro building at 10 des Pins Avenue before for a therapy group. Upon inspection of the posters and community board on every floor, it seems this building is home to a huge variety of different studios, living spaces, and curiosities.
The PlayShed itself was tucked in a corner on the fourth floor that had poor ventilation the techies were trying to remedy with fans of varying sizes. The makeshift black box stage was dotted with anti-mouse signs that appeared to be traps, as evidenced by the cheese. One poster stand stood by itself stage left and a folding chair held all other props stage right.
As the play began, our mouse in the house, Tony McIntyre, cautiously approached the stage. His felted mouse ears and tail added to the great physicality of this mouse that was sometimes scared, often confident, but always in love with cheese.
I laughed so hard at McIntyre’s crowd work and deadpan delivery, my abs will be more defined tomorrow. Somehow, the same line delivery over and over again had me busting at the seams. The whole audience was cheering him on and trying to guide him through the difficult decisions a mouse must make as the world changes around him. We danced, we learned through ‘lived experience,’ and we had an amazing time.
With only a few minutes left in the show, the tone shifted HARD and became an absurd cautionary tale. I don’t want to spoil it for you, but wow. That was indescribable and might be a part of my daydreams/nightmares from now on.
Part clown, part physical comedy, part morality, all worth it. I cannot recommend Mouse Trap! enough. Get your tickets while they last!
