Sudsing up for an improv marathon: a family reunion at Die-Nasty’s 26th annual Soap-A-Thon

26th annual Die-Nasty Soap-A-Thon. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Festive, but ominous. That’s the buzz today: You, my friends, are going to a family reunion this weekend.   

Starting tonight at 7 p.m. the far-flung members of the Bun-Bun family, owners and operators of a successful dinosaur theme park, are gathering there for a big bash in honour of an auspicious birthday. Great Grandma Cookie Bun-Bun is turning 117. Which makes her officially the world’s oldest living person. 

It’s the 26th annual edition of a venerable Edmonton improv comedy institution, Die-Nasty’s marathon 50-hour Soap-A-Thon fund-raiser. Lured by the magnetic force field of Edmonton improv, performers of every stripe from across the wide world — Adam Meggido from London, Patti Stiles from Australia among others — join the award-winning Die-Nasty ensemble for this journey into the not-yet-known and made-up-on-the-spot.

As Soap-A-Thon history confirms, the suds potential of families is virtually unlimited: joy, angst, tension, dark secrets, boozy recriminations and recollections, warped desires, libidinous frissons, sibling rivalries, acrimonious in-laws, freaky cousins twice-removed, inter-generational feuds, a lot of ex’s.… Who knows what might happen in this tangle of relationships? Absolutely no one.

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And that’s before you add in the dinosaur factor. In fact, one of the “special shifts,” Sunday 3 to 5 a.m., is the Gratuitous Rampaging Dinosaur Hour.

As Die-Nasty star Stephanie Wolfe says, “families are a great hook. People can choose where to hook their hat on the family tree…. With families the stakes are immediately high; there’s a past, a history. The tiniest detail can be momentous; love, hate, everything is magnified.”

We’ve met the Bun-Buns before, in their less exalted nouveau-riche days when the family name didn’t have a hyphen. In 2002, the Bun-Buns converged at the Fairmont Ritz-Capitano for a reunion at the 10th anniversary Soap-A-Thon. And four years later, they gathered again, for a family wedding; the nuptials joined “the London Grimbushes and the Mill Woods Bun-Buns.”

Wolfe remembers she played “Old Lady Bun-Bun, a generic grandma.” On that fractious occasion, Belinda Cornish was Skippy Bun-Bun, goth poet extraordinaire. Mark Meer was Sedgwick Bun-Bun, owner of the fateful hotel where the festivities took place, and doubled as the Lava Monster living in the wine cellar, .

No one knows exactly who’s who at the dinosaur theme park until curtain time tonight. But Wolfe is thinking of playing “Dr. Bun-Bun, the cousin of one of grandma’s daughters, once removed from the family. On call a lot,” and ready to minister to spontaneous maladies. “I’m bringing a bag of wigs…. I used to bring many garment bags of costumes, just in case. I’ve weeded it down to scarves, and hats.”

Characters are often born “by sheer need” backstage, Wolfe laughs. “We need a policeman! Onstage! Now!”

This year’s edition is the first time a life-size puppet has taken on a leading role. Birthday girl Great Grandma Cookie Bun-Bun, at 117, is the creation of company members Jesse Gervais and Mat Hulshof. The voice-over possibilities are legion, as Wolfe points out. Soliloquies? “I’m counting on it.” 

Company members like Mark Meer invariably go the full 50-hour distance. “He has special blood,” says Wolfe. “Thirty hours is enough for me.” Plans for leaving get constantly altered, though. “Just one more shift! I’ve got to find out what happens to me next!”

Wolfe loves the way novices and veterans mingle onstage at the Soap-A-Thon. Her advice to new soap-sters? “Bring lots of water and make sure you have breath mints.”

PREVIEW

26th Annual Die-Nasty Soap-A-Thon

Theatre: Die-Nasty

Directed by: various company members

Starring: Mark Meer, Belinda Cornish, Stephanie Wolfe, Jeff Haslam, Jesse Gervais, Matt Alden, Jason Hardwick, Vincent Forcier, Delia Barnett, Kristi Hansen, Paul Morgan Donald. With special guests Ron Pederson, Louise Lambert, Mat Busby, John Ullyatt, Adam Meggido, Patti Stiles, and others

Where: Varscona Theatre, 10329 83 Ave.

Running: tonight 7 p.m. through Sunday 9 p.m.

Tickets: weekend passes varsconatheatre.com/dienasty; daily tickets at the door all weekend

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Oh, what a knight: Two Good Knights at the Mayfield. A review

Kieran Martiin Murphy in Two Good Knights, Mayfield Theatre. Photo by Ed Ellis.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

You know the songs. Heck, you can’t NOT know the songs.

By now they’re in the collective DNA, and that much-abused term iconic doesn’t go amiss. Which is both a magnetic draw and a challenge for creators of revues and jukebox extravaganzas.   

The hit catalogues of pop superstars Tom Jones and Elton John are the soundtrack for Two Good Knights, the season-opener at the Mayfield, purveyors of deluxe musical entertainments. Will Marks, the company’s mysterious resident musical hunter/gatherer, has fashioned an annotated two-act celebration of the  the oeuvre of the two legendary Brits.

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And in the production staged by Dave Horak and directed musically by Van Wilmott, two excellent performers, backed by a top-notch seven-piece band (and back-up singer/dancers), invoke their spirit and personality, sound and signature stage styles. And they do it without resorting to the dread impersonation mode. 

Keith Retson-Spalding in Two Good Knights, Mayfield Theatre. Photo by Ed Ellis.

True, Sir Thomas John Woodward (Kieran Martin Murphy), pride of Pontypridd, and Sir Elton Hercules John (Keith Retson-Spalding), late of Yorkshire, are very different artists. Well, OK, they have the Queen in common (hold that thought). They both changed their names; they both made a lot of money. And both their impressively-long careers have had dips and re-births.

But Two Good Knights doesn’t concern itself unduly with these biographical matters. They’re flimsy framing material for Will Marks. Mainly, they’re fodder for the sprite-ly comic ministrations of Chris Bullough. He puckishly leaps in and out of guises, accents, and costumes as the awestruck (occasionally rueful) narrator/chronicler, a stream of managers and agents, members of defunct bands, the odd relative, diverse musicians like Neil Diamond, who appears and vanishes long before the ice in your Tiny Dancer cocktail can melt. Ah yes, and Queenie herself in full regalia, a party girl manquée, who thanks the newly appointed Sir Elton for his stellar contributions to British culture, “especially the retail sector.”    

What saves the narration from the portentous biographical intervention style that’s more usual in revues is its (a) scarcity and (b) its wry tone. Bullough gives all his moments in this incarnation a certain satirical edge, established in the opening moments of Two Good Knights. We find Tim Jones in full Murphy throttle delivering Oh, What A Night and discover, thanks to our narrator, that it’s the ‘80s and he’s in in mid-career slump, reduced to performing ladies’ night in small-town Massachusetts. 

The star, who’s played with charm and a kind of appealing self-awareness by the lustrous-voiced Murphy, is somewhat aggrieved by the narrator’s dramatic scenario: “an agonizing 15-year drought with no hits” and the “sheer determination to climb out of this horrendous hole.”

That’s how the “story” is introduced: a sexy Welsh guy with great pipes and a history of working in a leather glove-making factory and selling Electro-Luxes door-to-door until … the classic moment of discovery. And the tone, endemic to Horak’s production, gives such standard revue segues as “everything he touched turned to gold” a tweak.

Murphy, captures the signature extravagant physicality of the Welsh star in his magnetic performance (choreography by Christine Bandelow, who’s also a back-up singer and dancer, along with Jennifer McMillan).

In Act II, very different in theatrical style, the narrator cedes his role to Elton John’s early music-writing partner Bernie Taupin. And Retson-Spalding, new to the Mayfield stage, takes over at the grand piano as the energetically flamboyant pop star with the neo-Liberace taste in evening wear. He evokes the mannerisms, and the vocal/keyboard pizzaz of Elton John with gusto and humour.

As always at the Mayfield under Van Wilmott the musical values are startlingly high, the local performers are substantial talents, and the song list is nothing if not generous. What gives the show its theatrical bounce is a terrific videoscope by the endlessly inventive designer Matt Schuurman. Two Good Knights is unexpectedly fun to watch, as well as to listen to.

His projections, which play on a variety of screens and even the piano, are clever and witty, an unhinged free-association of images that release the show from the bonds of song catalogue.

I leave you to discover what Schuurman does with Rocket Man, The Lion King, Crocodile Rock , and Benny and the Jets. It reimagines the musical revue format.

REVIEW

Two Good Knights

Theatre: Mayfield Dinner Theatre

Directed by: Dave Horak, Van Wilmott

Starring: Kieran Martin Murphy, Keith Retson-Spalding, Chris Bullough, Christine Bandelow, Jennifer McMillan

Running: through Oct. 28

Tickets: 780-483-4051, mayfieldtheatre.ca

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Rex has done it! A record-busting Fringe came to an end Sunday night

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Fringe‘O’Saurus Rex hasn’t exactly tiptoed through town. Larger-than-life Rex has trampled the records. By Sunday evening’s finale, the 37th annual edition of Edmonton’s giant summer theatre bash crashed through last year’s record-breaker by selling 134,276 tickets to its 227 shows, up from 2017’s tally of 129,800. Box office revenue was up 10 per cent, to $1.46 million. And 419 performances had sold out. 

It’s not like the weather, veering wildly between hot and smoky and hypothermic plummets into single-digit temperatures, did the Fringe any fat favours, to say the least. But the carnival crowds were up again, 817,000 from last year’s 810,000 at this, the first and largest Fringe on the continent. 

Sunday afternoon Fringe director Murray Utas was praising “the fortitude” of Fringe audiences. “Smoke, Armageddon, winter… and they came anyway!”   

As the Greek temptress says, clutching her smartphone in the rom-com Sirens (held over at the Varscona this week), “my stats are very high.”

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The“Randomizer,” a bright idea from last year, came into its own this year. It’s the online button on the Fringe website that chooses a show for you if you’re overwhelmed by “the sheer size of what we have going on here” in the multi-show universe. Usage spiralled way up. And Utas reads that as a sign that audiences “are increasingly willing to take a chance,” he says.

I live my life on the fringe,” grins Utas, a Fringe artist himself. “It’s where I spend my days, and it’s who I am at the core….” He argues that “word-of-mouth is still the most crucial element” in finding an audience at the Fringe for the new, the off-centre, the risky. “Against all the noise of people just off hot tours, or (safer, more predictable) stuff, word-of-mouth is the great leveller….”

He points to two exciting originals: Todd Houseman and Lady Vanessa Cardona’s hit Whiteface, with its thorny and non-consoling provocations, and to Macbeth Muet, the violent, high-speed, wordless version of the Scottish play that sold out its entire Fringe run.      

Farren Timoteo adapted and directed The Soldier’s Tale — a fascinating, multi-disciplinary World War I collaboration between Stravinsky and Ramuz that had never before been fully staged in  Alberta. It was an experiment. He wondered “would we connect with an audience?”

“I was reminded,” says Timoteo, “that pieces that may appear to have a unique identity or eccentric personality could really thrive at the fringe, where there’s something for everybody  and everybody’s a bit more open to something different. I believe our adventurous and unconventional piece of theatre found the perfect home at the festival; it’s the kind of work I especially feel encouraged to share there.”

And in the end The Soldier’s Tale — with its three actors, dancer, and seven-member ensemble conducted by the ESO’s chief conductor Alexander Prior — pretty much sold out all its performances.

At 12thnight.ca I’ve had to be selective, more selective than I’d like, in seeing Fringe shows and writing about them. I’m here to report, happily, that adventurous artists — the experienced veteran, the up-and-comer, the newcomer — still write plays and take them to meet their first audiences, at the Fringe.

There are multiple examples. Young actor/playwright Makram Ayache is a find: Harun has its flaws, but it’s a big, ambitious, theatrically exciting first play, with a huge emotional investment. It, and its creator, promise much. Actor/playwright Chris Bullough, one of our gutsiest artists, ventured feelingly into something controversial, provocative, probing, and risky in every way with Rig Pig Fantasia.

The new still comes in every shape and size at the Fringe. Teatro La Quindicina muse Stewart Lemoine has premiered not one but two new comedies at this year’s Fringe (A Lesson in Brio, running this week at the Varscona, and The Many Loves of Irene Sloane). Kenneth Brown turned his military history expertise and theatrical know-how to imagining a limbo cabaret (Roy Versus The Red Baron). From their research into the mysterious labyrinths of our own history Linda Wood Edwards and David Cheoros, Fringe veterans both, imagined a theatrical confrontation: The Great Whorehouse Fire of 1921.

Rebecca Merkley, an artist of apparently limitless range who made her Fringe debut in summers past with a comedy and a musical, returned with a hard-hitting serious drama about a queasy cult, Bountiful, and a free-wheeling performance art-y spoof Merk du Soleil (Alas, I didn’t see either; guest 12thnight reviewer Alan Kellogg did). At the other end of theatrical spectrum, playwright Michele Vance Hehir, who paints with a miniaturist’s strokes, premiered the third of her small-town prairie Roseglen trilogy, One Polaroid.

Clown/physicist Christine Lesiak (For Science!, held over this week at Fringe headquarters), and Leif Ingebrigtsen, Sierra Noble and Megan Dart (a kids’ folk musical Fossegrim & Nøk), tested new limits for themselves at the Fringe. So did activist/writer Leslea Kroll (Wellspring) and journalist Liane Faulder (Walk).

The list goes on. The Fringe still inspires, and rewards, bravery and an adventurous spirit. And that’s what keeps us coming back for more.

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Rex is on a roll: Get fringing before the curtain comes down Sunday night

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

If you’ve squeezed your butt into the very last seat in a Fringe theatre this past week (as I have, nearly every show), you’ll have a sense that Rex is on a roll.

And your sense is on the money. The final tally awaits since the curtain doesn’t come down in the Fringe’s 39 venues till Sunday night, but hear this: Fringe ‘O’ Saurus Rex goes into his last weekend of rampaging through Strathcona (and beyond) with box office revenue up 14 per cent from 2017 ($1.2 million worth of tickets going directly back to the artists) and site visits, even in the smoke, up 16 per cent — so far, with more to come. Smoke Shmoke!

For your last weekend of fringe bingeing, have a look at our reviews on 12thnight.ca (all grouped under Fringe 2018) by me, Todd Babiak, and Alan Kellogg. Listen to the buzz coming off the grapevine. Or do what artists do when they put on a Fringe show: take a chance! If you’re paralyzed by the wealth of choices, in an array of 227 shows, get the Fringe’s Randomizer (fringetheatre.ca/festival/randomizer/) to choose for you. (It just picked Burlesque Dueling Divas: Wild Women for me). But whatever you do, see a show. Or two. Or more. Moderation is no virtue at Fringe time. 

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An impressive playwriting debut: Harun, a Fringe review

Harun. Graphic supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca

Harun (Stage 4, Academy at King Edward)

The double-optic of the immigrant kid — torn between cultures and generations, loyalty to family and the urgent momentum of a new life — is the complexity that Makram Ayache takes on in Harun.

The title character (played by the playwright himself, is gay and Arab, a university student with a Canadian name, Aaron. And he’s in crisis. He’s haunted by the voice of his mother (the riveting  Amena Shehab) telling her story in Arabic; he translates. At night he’s visited by an inscrutable Angel, his mother transformed, with the instruction to listen. One day he can’t wake up.

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Aaron’s boyfriend is terrified. His friends, arranging a college protest against anti-immigrant white supremacist racism, are concerned he’s going mad. Is he? Aaron relives, in flashback, terrible scenes with his mother, marginalized by quieter forms of Canadian racism — “speak English!” — in her new “multi-cultural” country. He’s paralyzed by escalating guilt and self-loathing: if he hadn’t been gay, his mother wouldn’t have gone back to Lebanon…. He conjures scenes of hate and destruction there, “with everyone blaming everyone else,” a counterpoint to more passive-aggressive ethnic stereotyping here in the “enlightened” new world.

There’s a lot going on in Harun; it’s crammed to overflowing with thoughts and memories, conflicts, arguments, reflections, and the characters having them. Probably too much of everything for a one-act play. But in this impressive playwriting debut, maybe that sheer overload is part of the point. It certainly gives Mieko Ouchi’s production, acted with conviction and set forth with theatrical pizzazz, an explosive quality. 

And hey, what a rare thing it is to find, at the Fringe, a new play with the ambition and the chutzpah to be too big for itself. Harun sets conflict in motion, onstage, in scenes between people. It isn’t just reported; it happens. It’s even rounded by a hopeful vision of progress, a new version of what it means to be Canadian.   

Ayache is a talent to watch. He’s going places.

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A new company, a new play: A Town Called Umbra, a guest 12thnight Fringe review by Todd Babiak

A Town Called Umbra

A Town Called Umbra (Stage 11, Studio Theatre)

In most cities, a new theatre company launches with an ambitious version of an existing play, something classic and accessible.

Most cities are not Edmonton, where a new theatre company nearly always begins with its own work — written, directed, produced, and performed by three or four friends at the Fringe.

A Town Called Umbra is the first work by Alberta Gothic, written and performed by Levi Borejko and Ari Evans, joined on stage by Philip Hackborn. It’s the story of a western town where a mystery woman, Nik, played by Borejko, has bought up all the shadows.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, Nik had paid for the shadows with a magic potion. By the time Orpheus (Evans) shows up, the town preacher (Hackborn) and everyone else in Umbra suffers from buyers’ remorse.

Orpheus descends to the underworld, to find Nik and rustle up them shadows.

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A Town Called Umbra is imaginative, fast-moving, and gentle enough to be family friendly. This version feels not quite finished, as both the script and the performances lack confidence, but there is a wonderful idea here and plenty of energy. This is a good part of what the Fringe is about — a springboard to whatever comes next.

Todd Babiak

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Held Over at the Varscona: hit Fringe shows continue con brio next week!

Patricia Cerra, Jenny McKillop, Rachel Bowron, Mathew Hulshot in A Lesson in Brio, Teatro La Quindicina. Photo by Mat Busby.

The Varscona Theatre (aka Stage 12) is holding over four of its hot-ticket shows next week, Tuesday through Saturday. There’s Stewart Lemoine’s A Lesson in Brio, of course; it’s part of Teatro La Quindicina’s summer season. There’s also Gordon’s Big Bald Head: New World Hors ‘Oeuvres, Atlas Theatre’s Sirens, and Bright Young Things’ The Real Inspector Hound.  (Click on the title to read our 12thnight.ca reviews).

Here’s the schedule:

Tuesday Aug. 28: 7 p.m. A Lesson in Brio, 9 p.m. The Real Inspector Hound

Wednesday Aug. 29: 7 p.m. A Lesson in Brio, 9 p.m. Gordon’s Big Bald Head

Thursday Aug. 30: 7 p.m. A Lesson in Brio, 9 p.m. Gordon’s Big Bald Head

Friday Aug. 31: 7 p.m. A Lesson in Brio, 9 p.m. The Real Inspector Hound

Saturday, Sept. 1: 2 and 7 p.m. A Lesson in Brio, 9 p.m. Sirens.

Tickets:  A Lesson in Brio, The Real Inspector Hound and Sirens: teatroq.com. For Gordon’s Big Bald Head: coming soon.

 

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Rex will rampage next week: Fringe show holdovers at the Arts Barns

Lady Vanessa Cardona and Todd Houseman in Whiteface. Photo supplied.

Fringe’O’Saurus Rex hasn’t finished with you yet, my friends. You’ve had a reprieve on those hit shows you haven’t managed to squeeze into your Fringe menu yet. Fringe Theatre Adventures is holding over four Fringes at the Westbury (aka Fringe Stage 1) next week, Wednesday through Saturday Sept. 1: Hey Science!, Flute Loops, Balls of Yarns, and Whiteface. (Click on the titles for our 12thnight.ca reviews.

Fringe director Murray Utas points out (with his usual exuberance) that two of the four, the first two, pair music and science and take them into the theatre.

Here’s the schedule:

Aug. 29: 7 p.m. Whiteface, 9 p.m. Balls of Yarns

Aug. 30: 7 p.m. Flute Loops, 9 p.m. Whiteface

Aug. 31: 7 p.m. Balls of Yarns, 9 p.m. For Science!

Sept. 1: 7 p.m. For Science! 9 p.m. Flute Loops. 

Tickets: fringetheatre.ca, 780-409-1910

 

 

 

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Love, loss, and stories that sneak up to grab your heart: Martin Dockery’s Delirium, A guest 12thnight Fringe review by Todd Babiak

Martin Dockery: Delirium. Photo by Tanja Tiziana.

Martin Dockery: Delirium (Stage 3, Walterdale Theatre)

As Martin Dockery welcomes us into the bare theatre, his only prop a water bottle, he doesn’t bother with any artifice. He is Martin, we are who we are, hey man, hi guys, how’s it going? His T-shirt appears to be the T-shirt he might also wear in the beer tent later on.

In Delirium, the New York veteran of the Canadian Fringe circuit tells three true stories. The informality, even bagginess of his dialogue is jarring at first. If there were a script, “You know what, guys?” would be on the page far too many times. Slowly, as he makes his way through his first story — about his girlfriend, love, and the border between the U.S. and Canada — we realize there isn’t a script so much as an emotional outpouring.

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The seeming inefficiency of the actual words he uses crashes into the careful, looping, at times spectacular, plots of his stories. All three are memorable but the last two are deeply moving tales of love and loss that carry, in their detail, a haunting authenticity. We feel we are there with him as he tries to sell strawberry sandwiches at Burning Man and copes with the loss of his best friend.

Todd Babiak

 

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In the ghostly light of cellphones, a haunting: Concord Floral, a Fringe review

Concord Floral, 10 Out Of 12 Productions. Photo supplied.

By Liz Nicholls, 12thnight.ca 

Concord Floral (Stage 4, Academy at King Edward)

It’s an unnerving — no, genuinely scary — experience to see Concord Floral. For one thing it’s about teenagers and what it’s like to be one. And that can unsettle your adult equilibrium since we all have one of our very own, the one we once were, inside us.

Doesn’t it feel like the time in life where the storied “innocence of childhood” has vanished into thin air, but your grown-up self is still forming, mysteriously and in secret? “All parents are a little stupid,” says one of the play’s 10 characters in a chilly little insight. “They make themselves that way or they’ll go insane worrying about all the things they secretly know to be true.” 

Concord Floral, by the young Canadian star playwright Jordan Tannahill, is a ghost story of sorts, a haunting and an exorcism. Its inspiration is Boccaccio’s 14th century  Decameron, in which young people flee plague-struck Florence for a countryside villa, and tell stories, one a night, to pass the time. This is suburban Ontario, and Concord Floral is a long-abandoned greenhouse in a field where teenagers go to be free, stay up late, drink, smoke weed, have sex.

On a dark night Nearly (Leila Raye-Crofton) and her friend Rosa (Helen Belay) are in the greenhouse, with only a cellphone flashlight app for light. The phone, still lit, gets dropped into a well. And the girls can’t unsee what they see: it’s glowing from inside a dead body.

A dark shadow is over the town: the plague? the Angel of Death as one character speculates? The characters, who all have individual lives and hopes, dreams, and nightmares, share something damning; they’re haunted together, by an act of wanton cruelty, by shared guilt. 

I shouldn’t tell you more, except to say that the play is a beautiful piece of construction, with metaphorical resonances, a text that threads the poetic through the sound of real teens talking, the dramatic and the presentational (with more than a whiff of I Know What You Did Last Summer). The characters include a ghost, an abandoned couch,  a bobolink, a fox, and the greenhouse itself (Marguerite Lawler) who reflects on the possibility of mercy in a world full of cruelty towards outsiders. 

Mieko Ouchi directs an ensemble cast of young U of A theatre school grads, who perform with raw  honesty and invention in a production lit by cellphone. A stunning piece of theatre.   

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