And this just in … update on Fringe holdovers, in four locations including Grindstone Comedy Theatre

Battle of the Genres: an improvised mashup, The Kinkonauts. Fringe 2026. Photo supplied

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

The might-have-seen wistfulness that always accompanies the end of the Fringe (which comes Sunday night) is giving you some relief next week. As already announced (read about it here), some of the Fringe’s hot-ticket shows will be held over in three venues, Fringe Theatre‘s Westbury in the Arts Barns, the Varscona, and Rapid Fire Exchange Theatre. And now there’s a fourth locale, Grindstone Comedy Theatre.

The Grindstone holdover series lineup there so far — with more to come —  Wednesday Aug. 26 to Saturday Aug. 29.

The Last 1.5 Librarians North of Lethbridge Aug. 26, 9 p.m., Aug. 29, 9 p.m.

The Sad Saga of the Edmonton Interurban Railway Aug. 27, 7 p.m.

Vaping Gay Aug. 28, 11 p.m.

Battle of the Genres: an improvised mashup Aug. 29, 11 p.m.

Tickets: showpass.com. 

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Hang on, there’s more! Fringe holdovers next week in three locations

The Beanstalk Market Crash, Mind of a Snail Puppet Co. at Fringe 2026. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Did you forget? I have to break it to you: the curtain will come down on Fringe Unforgettable Sunday night after 11 days and nights. Your grand plan to cut a swath through the 209-show Fringe galaxy hasn’t quite complete? The Fringe is big, but never quite long enough, right?

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But wait! Some of the hottest shows at the festival will get held over next week in two different locations, the Westbury Theatre in the Fringe Arts Barns (aka Fringe Stage 1), the Varscona Theatre (aka BYOV Stage 11), and Rapid Fire Theatre (aka BYOV Stage 12).

•The Fringe Holdover Series has four shows, held over for one or two performances each, Wednesday Aug. 26 through Saturday Aug. 29.

LUMBER: Aug. 26, 7 p.m.; Aug. 27, 9 p.m. (CART Captioned by Jeffery Weigel, WizCap).

650 Light Years Away: Aug. 27, 7 p.m. (CART Captioned by Jeffrey Weigel, WizCap); Aug. 28, 9 p.m. (see the 12thnight review here).

The Butter Chicken Odyssey. Aug. 28, 7 p.m.; Aug. 29, 9 p.m. (see the 12thnight review here)

The Beanstalk Market Crash. Aug. 29, 7 p.m. (see the 12thnight review here).

Tickets, show descriptions, times: fringetheatre.ca.

 

The Shape of Seamen: a new comic opera, with Nicole Maloney and Michael Watt. Photo supplied

•The Varscona Holdover Series has seven shows, held over for one or two performances each, Tuesday, Aug. 25 through Saturday Aug. 29

Rodgers and Hammerstein’s ROBOCOP: The Musical. Aug. 25, 7 p.m.; Aug. 26, 9 p.m. (see 12thnight review here).

MURDER PLOT. Aug. 25, 9 p.m.; Aug. 26, 7 p.m.

The Shape of Seamen: a new comic opera. Aug. 27, 7 p.m. (see the 12thnight review here)

A Hellmark Christmas Musical Parody. Aug. 27, 9 p.m.; Aug. 28, 9 p.m.

Being Norwegian. Aug. 28, 7 p.m. (see the 12thnight review here).

Between the  Covers. Aug. 29, 7 p.m.

Gordon’s Big Bald Head: the fruit of our purloins. Aug. 29, 9 p.m.

Tickets, show descriptions, and times: fringetheatre.ca

Rapid Fire Theatre’s Exchange Theatre holdover series has two shows, so far: PLAYS BY [BLANKS] and the Fringe grand finale of Lauren Brady’s much-travelled SWAN?. More shows and a schedule to come, stay tuned.

  

   

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A glow from the musical nebula: the multi-verse originality of Andrea House in 650 Light Years Away. A Fringe review

Andrea House, 650 Light Years Away. Fringe 2026. Photo supplied

650 Light Years Away (stage 25, Spotlight Cabaret)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

In the mapless universe where Andrea House, a questing explorer of dark nights, is looking for a guiding star, what she finds instead is a bright nebulous effusion of light.

The good news is that the Helix Nebula is the closest one to our own planet. The more unsettling news from the galaxy is that it’s only 650 light years away. Ah, a long-distance relationship … with certainty.

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This wonderful ‘story concert’ of a show by House and jazz composer/keyboardist Chris Andrew, extraordinary originals both (with superb bassist Rubim de Toledo), finds a wild, beautiful poetry in doubt, unstable footing, the unknowable. Its reach is as intimate as love, as specific as gridlock on the Henday at rush hour, the pirate ship at WEM,  or “7.5 years of bad luck” as forewarned by an astrologer who “looked like Sabrina Carpenter (pause). If she lived in Kamloops and had three kids.” And it’s as elusive as your ancestors centuries ago. Or the truth. What would happen, she wonders aloud, if we told the truth all the time?

House reveals that she was born an oak tree, singled out amongst the poplars and cut down as “young wood” to be a boat. “I was shaped by men,” she sings. “I cried when I realized I wouldn’t be a tree any more.” But then, boats move in a magical way, on an element not of the earth. The score, music that slides in and out of cleverly rhymed rap, rhythmic spoken word, jazz, Latin beats, silky ballads that turn fierce, is unique. Actor/playwright/musician House can wrap her lustrous, dramatic, multi-angled voice around any genre.

And there’s a playful wit about her way with imagery, and narrative teases. Her Brit relative Wanda, a physicist, is reassuring, but “she’s high all the time.”

Directed by Davina Stewart, the whole experience of 650 Light Years Away and its vertiginous view of time, will leave you a bit dizzy, and breathless (and so does the multi-branched talent of this remarkable artist). And isn’t that really what you’re after at the Fringe?

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The clowns from corporate head office are here: GERALD, a Fringe review

GERALD, Fringe 2026. Photo supplied.

Gerald (Stage 20, Mile Zero Dance Theatre)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

The outreach department of Gerald Corp, one of the galaxy’s biggest energy companies, has sent two recruiters through space to find us humans. Please stand by.

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Lucky us! We’ve been chosen as corporate research subjects and possible employees (could this be because of our distinguished Fringe history of compliance to audience participation instructions?). Anyhow, the crack(ed) team of Bill (Lauren Brady, SWAN?, @interWEBBED, OWEaDebt) and Dill (Eddie McDonald) has arrived to assess our suitability for a bright corporate future. And we in turn can be materially helpful to their potential rise through the corporate ranks at ever-expanding Gerald Corp. Could be a win-win.

Satires of corporate culture, and the way it turns human ambition against itself, aren’t exactly rare in theatre. In fact, it isn’t easy to think of any performance art odes that actually celebrate corporate compliance. It’s demonstrably more fun, though when the enforcers of corporate orthodoxy are clowns, those naturally playful, wayward, renegade spirits, and their ‘business suits’ are a cross between Marie Antoinette and an ice cream sundae.

This GERALD pair is from somewhere out there, attached to the corporate machine by long light-up leashes. Bill, the team supervisor, is the bossier, more hard-nosed one, getting more exasperated by the second with a genial dimbulb of an assistant. Gill is the more amiable, distractable, impulsive one, who lives for the corporate juice breaks provided by Gerald. (Bent Stick Brewing Co., incidentally, opposite  Mile Zero on Beer Street, has created Gerald Juice, in their honour). Their classic clown chemistry is funny.

In the course of GERALD, the pair enlist audience members for kooky challenges, surveys and activities to test us. Balloons are involved. This kind of larky, improvised, unthreatening audience participation, I’m here to tell you, is something you can easily say Yes too, no squirming required. And just like that, you’ve joined a corporate cult. Wheee.

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The passing of the crown: the 30th anniversary revival of The Edmonton Queen, a Fringe review

Zachary Parsons-Lozinski in The Edmonton Queen, Guys in Disguise. Photo by Ian Jackson, EPIC Photography

The Edmonton Queen (Stage 31, Nancy Power Theatre at the Roxy)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

“Every once in a while a queen in born. Whether through osmosis or immaculate misconception is still mostly a mystery….”

At 19, a gay kid from hard-ass small-town Alberta got on the Greyhound, and left for the Big City. By the time Darrin Hagen got to Edmonton, his life had changed forever. And there was no going back.

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That’s the story of magical prairie transformation, his own, and his adoption by an ultra-glamorous chosen family of insomniac dazzlers in gowns who wore feathers and sequins, and “more foam than the Muppets.” And 30 years ago, Hagen, playwright/actor/director/queer historian/ composer/ musician/ drag queen extraordinaire, spun his funny, raunchy, nostalgia-soaked memoir of that time (the ‘80s), that place (“Flashback, the fag bar not the theatrical device”), those generations of queens (Lulu laRude and her descendants) into his first play.

The Edmonton Queen, happening in an anniversary Guys in Disguise production at the Roxy, is a backstage pass to that exotic, histrionic  demi-monde. And since you don’t even think about doing Hamlet without a Hamlet for gawd’s sake, the show has found its new star: drag artist Zachary Parsons-Lozinsky, a deluxe comic performance in the role Hagen originally wrote for and of himself, the kid who leaves Rocky Mountain House and becomes … a queen among queens. The production, incidentally, coincides with NeWest Press’s release of The Crown Collection, a trio of Hagen plays including The Empress & The Prime Minister and With Bells On.

In The Edmonton Queen we learn about the incredibly baroque royal hierarchy  — aspirants, dowagers, princesses, inheritances, christenings, assorted coronations — in the queendom. When our heroine recounts the deathly struggle over a pair of sparkly palazzo pants, Richard III seems pretty laid back in comparison. Parsons-Lozinski delivers the incantation: “Lulu LaRude begat Gloria Hole (that’s Hagen) begat Tallulah begat Ora Fice begat Mandy Kamp….” And so, an iconic role (and possibly the size 14 stilettos) has been bequeathed.

Funny, and dexterous with asides and winks and interpolations, the performer is at home in the sassy Hagen sense of humour. The challenge is to give elaborate, eloquent writing, the lush profane poetry of it, life onstage, so it’s actually spoken as if it’s happening live and doesn’t feel like narration. And Parsons-Lozinski shines brightly.

The Edmonton Queen is a groundbreaker with a place in Edmonton’s cultural history, And the heartbreaking catalogue of mortality that’s part of this story, a whole generation of artists gone before they were 30, is an elegy to an era.

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Dear mom, I’m fine, or I will be. The agony and the ecstasy of being someone’s mother, Parenthood: It’s A Mutha. A Fringe review

Parenthood: It’s A Mutha (Stage 32, Lorne Cardinal Theatre at the Roxy)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

This show by the warm, charismatic Michelle Todd isn’t really shaped like a play. It’s a free-form memoir, a personal confessional that starts in the middle, and free-associates backwards and forward, interspersed with “Random Thoughts,” her own and her kids’.

When you add it up, it’s a highly non-scientific one-woman survey — with an appealing air of spontaneity —  of the joys, and terminal fears, anxieties, panic attacks and stresses, of being someone’s mother. And all it feels reassuringly authentic.

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Anyhow, the middle is the telling moment when another mother at one of her kid’s games greets her as “Marcus’s mom,” and she’s can’t come up with her own name in response.  Aha! But that unhinged, loss-of-identity feeling doesn’t go further, at least overtly, in this amiable piece. The thread that weaves Parenthood: It’s A Mutha together is a blend of wonder with a self-deprecating sense of absurdity, the former highly emotional, the latter bemused.

We meet, vicariously through their mom, her two sons — from birth (yup, two birth stories) through childhood, the coming-of-age years into adulthood. And through the eyes of their mom at least, the two seem to be nice, smart, caring, funny people, people on the ball like their parents and their Philippine-born grandparents.

Alongside their mom they go through rough patches, disconcerting reviews at parent-teacher meetings, generational crises where kids rise to the occasion with empathy (or demonstrate that cursive writing is gone gone gone), teaching moments about the hard cultural realities of being Black in the world, assorted  sports, family holidays, Easter chocolate, first girlfriends….

The piece is a little over-endowed with anecdotal raw material, in truth. Specific detail is enlivening in a stage memoir, true, but this one would benefit from a trim, both in length and repetition, I think. Something it has in common with parenthood, perhaps. Or maybe my appetite for minor-league hockey anecdotes is below the national average.

Along the way we do catch glimpses of the artists’ lives of Todd and her husband Bob. And while you’re kind of glad they don’t have three sons under the circumstances, you wouldn’t want to lose her heartwarming affirmation that “theatre saved me; artists saved my kids.”

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The remarkable origin story of a Canadian drag legend: Go West, Young Man, a Fringe review

David McNally, Andrea House, Ainsley Hillyard, Zachary Parsons-Lozinski in Go West, Youg Man. Guys in Disguise, photo by Ian Jackson, EPIC Photography.

Go West, Young Man (Stage 11, Varscona Theatre)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

The sheer fabulosity of drag queens can dazzle you into assuming that they aren’t born and “emerge,” but somehow spring to life fully formed, be-gowned and sparkling. And you’d be so wrong.

This funny, spirited new play by Darrin Hagen gets its bounce from that. And it springs lightly from a true story. (Hagen’s own drag queen roots, wrapped around Edmonton’s cultural history, are tapped in his seminal 30-year-old debut stage memoir The Edmonton Queen, running across town at the Roxy).

In 1963, a bespectacled teenage nerd, who’s taken the Greyhound from Port Perry, Ont. to Hollywood, arrives at the door of aging diva Mae West. And he’s ready for lessons in enchantment. Go West, Young Man is the origin story, the let-there-be-limelight Genesis, of Canadian drag legend Craig Russell, originally Russell Eadie. And as the opening scenes reveal, what’s already striking about him, in addition to the height to which his pants are hitched, is chutzpah, on behalf of single-minded ambition.

This new play pairs Hagen’s own gift for sassy one-liners much on display in the Guys In Disguise archive, with the 20th century queen of the aphorism. The Mae West catalogue of quotes is crammed with playful zingers about men, sex, diamonds, life.… “Men are like linoleum. Lay ‘em right And you can walk all over them for years.” And they suit the Hagen esprit de corps to a T, a pick-me-up like gin goes for vermouth, with an olive like “all discarded lovers should be given a second chance. But with somebody else.”

Russell, who has arrived in Tinseltown with a suitcase full of Canadian fan mail, is secretly taking notes, picking up pointers for his own stage career to come. And a wealth are available in Andrea House’s gloriously funny portrait of Mae. That signature come-hither wink, the knowing glance that makes everything double-entendre gold, that breezy nasal snarl, the classic chin-up diagonals, prow-forward, as she sails regally into a room … all there. And the way she says Canada, as an experiment in foreign pronunciation, will make you laugh out loud.

Zachary Parsons-Lozinski, a top-flight drag artist himself, plays wide-eyed 15-year-old teenage hick in a comic performance that takes into account both the fangirl-ism and the calculation. And the script makes room for thoughts about this wiliness: is it a betrayal of Mae West’s unexpected hospitality? is it an homage to magical transformations? And the play acknowledges the paradox of the genuine fake that’s built into drag, and wonders about it, a little. But then, like any drag artist, Mae West is a showbiz self-creation, too.

The household includes a monkey, played with inter-species worldliness knowledge by the agile and inventive actor/choreographer Ainsley Hillyard. And in a very funny comic turn, Mae West’s ridiculously muscled bodybuilder boyfriend is played by the sporting David McNally in succession of towels

The ending (actually there are several — what? Craig Russell is already doing an exit tour decades in advance? ) as Russell gets the boot and a benediction, is a bit over-extended and repetitive. Especially since we’ve always known the ending, in advance.

But it’s fun to see a sneak preview of the stellar career to come, back across the border. An homage in itself.

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The scary funhouse of memory and identity: Fetch, a Fringe review

Fetch (Stage 5, Acacia Hall)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Two women, in identical dresses, stand before us with identical cardboard boxes in this unnerving, tightly wound little 2018 thriller by the Edmonton playwright Cat Walsh, whose muse runs to dark unnerving comedy.

They are both Hannah Morgan. And both Hannah Morgans (Abby Krushel and Shyanne Duquette) have a lot to say, about their family, and their last-ever family vacation to a Florida theme park. Are they mirror images? Alternate versions of Hannah Morgan? Alter-egos? In alternate realities? And what, exactly, is hidden in the box?

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That is a mystery, set intriguingly forth by Steven Sobolewski’s production. One Hannah Morgan is an only child; one is the youngest of a passel of siblings. Their memories of childhood and family life, and intertwined accounts of that fatal trip, have jarring discrepancies, too. And there’s this ominous observation passed on by one of them: “all accidents are surprises but not all surprises are accidents.”

Both Hannah Morgans at six were precocious children — the actors are excellent at this kid capture — but, eerily, in slightly different ways. One (Krushel, who never stops beaming) is consumed by her dream of being an amateur crime photographer; she has a macabre obsession with gory crashes and terrible injuries, as an antidote to “my dull boring yawn of a life.” Duquette’s Hannah Morgan, equally morbid, is more of a skeptic and conspiracy theorist, an eye-roller more directly complicit with the audience. “Children are very very easy to lie to,” she says.

And everywhere the Hannah Morgans go, somehow a small stuffed dog named Mr. Anderson, a favourite childhood companion, pursues them, past childhood into adulthood, relentlessly. This cunning, intricate little play turns the puzzle of identity into a kind of horror story, where the past keeps showing up in the present. You don’t say Fetch! or Heel! to a memory (try it, and you’ll see for yourself). Memories fetch themselves. It’s a scary thought.

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From history into a world of puppet poetry: the fascinating, elusive challenge of Object of Divinity

The Public Universal Friend, Object of Diviinity by Calla Wright and SILKRØAD. Fringe 2026. Image provided.

Object of Divinity (Stage 3, Nordic Studio Theatre)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Object of Divinity is a strangely timeless and timely story that underpins this enigmatic human/puppet show by actor/playwright Calla Wright, with an electro-industrial score, created and performed live by SILKRØAD.

They have unearthed from the mists of history (misty to me, at least) an amazing real-life 18th century figure, “the Public Universal Friend,” a gender-less nameless pronoun-less preacher, who’d been born female, with Quaker-esque views on slavery, emancipation, and war.

Wright has wrested a sort of beyond-trans story, a mother and child (Wright and Maya Wright), domestic rejection, religious crisis, from this shadowy self-created character who actually lived from 1752 to 1819. And they’ve imagined the trauma of their origins at a time when a female outside social conventions was a vessel awaiting — no, inviting — possession by gathering demonic forces. “Even the faithful are afraid in the end.”

The puppet iconography transforms homely objects; call it a performance installation.  The puppets, who “enter” the piece after a long introductory monologue by Wright as a kind of evangelist, are extrapolated, I think, from the story of the Public Universal Friend: outsized chalk-white objects including a hairbrush, a plumed pen that writes in invisible ink on a white sheet, a hand with many fluttering fingers that won’t stay still.

Can I explain this? I’m afraid not. The historical narrative of the Public Universal Friend — a self-reinventing character who puts themself deliberately out of time and possibly this world — is fascinating. But Object of Divinity moves beyond the “story” to unspool theatrically as a challenge so stylized and allusive that meaning seems always, deliberately, always, just beyond the grasp of the fingers (at least mine). It’s more a poetic fantasia than a “play,” by one of our most challenging artists.

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Can these two connect in the darkness? Here’s a mysterious little gem that’s about that. Being Norwegian, a Fringe review

Cody Porter and Clarice Eckford in Being Norwegian, Trunk Theatre. Photo supplied.

Being Norwegian (Stage 22, The de Villars Jones LLP Stage at Holy Trinity Church

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

This little gem of a two-hander by star Scottish playwright David Greig is something rare: a perfectly formed 45-minute rom-com where the shangri-la is more modest, more tentative, and more elusive, than romance. It’s simple human connection for two people who have somehow gotten flung off the grid into solitude.

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It’s started, just before the play, in a pub. Sad-sack Sean (Cody Porter) has surprised himself by inviting lively Lisa (Clarice Eckford) back to his apartment for a drink, an impromptu decision that he now regrets. And the awkwardness of that encounter, conveyed in two beautifully calibrated performances in Amy DeFelice’s production of Being Norwegian, is comic, in an anxiety-making kind of way.

Lisa, who’s chipper and almost suspiciously game, admires the urban view from the window. Sean, who hasn’t unpacked the boxes in his apartment for a year, has an apparently practised ability to see the depressing lining in any cloud. The view, he assures Lisa, is “not so pretty in day time (desperate pause). Or when it’s raining.”

“It reminds me of Oslo” is not a conversational gambit Sean has any idea how to return. “I’ve got to go there some day,” he says, after another desperate pause. Nope, Sean is not slick. And Lisa, who says she’s Norwegian and references Norway at every pause, is resourceful, and unusually persistent under these circumstances. “I think talking is over-rated,” she says, an amusingly conciliatory response to Sean’s fumbling confession that’s not used to … talking to, well, you know, actual people.

She is oddly determined to be enchanted, and make the most of a moment, even when the fall-back position for “conversation” is discussing the dimmer on the light switch. Norwegians, she says, are comfortable with darkness. His resting position is sadness and, in company, the state of being non-plussed.

There’s mystery attached to both characters. And Porter and Eckford are impressively skilled at comic pauses, and not salting the anxiety into something spicier, or giving anything away too soon about characters who’ve evidently spent whole lives alone with their secrets. “Things like this don’t happen to me,” says Sean at last. “I’m not … entertaining.”

At a festival full of characters who are more than ready to entertain you at all hours of the day and night, here are two who are struggling to speak, much less sit next to each other the way strangers might do on a bus. And you really want them to find each other in the great dark that surrounds us all. Small victories are something to cheer. Highly recommended.

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