Ducks (Stage 20, Blind Enthusiasm Stage at MZD – Grindstone Venues)

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

A black-hearted, knowing little comedy asks you to imagine this: a provincial government communications department that’s all about not communicating, concealing, dipsy-doodling around the Freedom of Information Act. Far-fetched, I know.

Ducks, the latest from David Heyman, references a case that sticks in the mind: the indelible ducks drowning in bitumen slime floating in a tailings pond. Duck shmuck. “A PR nightmare for the government” declares the smug, upwardly mobile communications hotshot cum fixer (Sam Free), who’d used the occasion to trounce his exasperated second-in-command (Davina Stewart).

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The nightmare has returned. It’s re-entered via embarrassing invitations, with photo, sent out by the dim and chipper receptionist (Linda Grass) to an office going-away party she’s helpfully arranged for Mitch. “I like doing invites!” She’s even invited the press. Mitch is leaving for a new job in Ottawa, “where the action is….” And he is incredulous that the photo wasn’t triple-deleted long ago.

The office, including the entirely competent press secretary (Jayce McKenzie), is in turmoil, as Patricia Darbasie’s Handmade Ivy production and a pro cast admirably convey. They have exactly 20 minutes to retrieve and destroy all the invitations before Mitch’s career is done like dinner.

This unleashes a veritable tornado of backstabbing, secret agendas and rumour-mongering, tightly wound by the playwright. The habit of denial runs deep in government communication circles, amazingly. Free, a U of A theatre grad, is a real find, funny, sharp, in a veritable buzz-saw of a performance. Stewart, a veritable repository of withering looks as the seasoned communication vet, looks like she’s eaten a bad cashew, and just can’t rid of the taste. Grass, who has a lighthouse beam smile, uses it to great comic effect as the unwitting instigator of chaos. And McKenzie as the unsmiling, unflappable, and ambitious press secretary, has perfected the contained, glinty eyeroll.   

After such a tightly wound, spring-loaded comedy set-up — and one of the great sight gags of the festival (we all laughed out loud) — Ducks could use a kick-ass ending beyond the assurance that there were crises before, and they will continue into infinity. You don’t often want a Fringe show to be longer. This is that occasion.