Lifeline – Toronto Fringe Festival – Fringe Listing under “L”
Lifeline is an enormous play about the echo of life from death hidden in a deceptively lightweight package. With a charming cast and a number of very good laughs, several stories take place in a hospital under the common theme of alienation and sadness borne from loss, but also of how loss can lead to redemption.
The play opens with the suicide of a main character, but make no mistake: Everybody in Lifeline starts out alone. Departures, betrayals and fatal mistakes are given just the right amount of weight without going overboard, and beautiful conceits are given towards how attempts at fixing yourself with your past still on your shoulders can cause collisions that only end up hurting everyone.
But not, thankfully, in every case – one thing that Lifeline does well with its multiple stories is show all of the outcomes possible in reaching out to others, and all of the characters in the play both learn and grow from their experiences. While some might say that the play fails to deliver on its emotional climax, I believe it does precisely what it ought to. “There are things you can’t beg for,” says one of the characters, and I believe this speaks to each of the storylines – as in life, some conclusions and relationships are brutal, and if they have any meaning at all, it is that only they were meant to end.
Ultimately, I think Lifeline is about the fact that you can become a greater and better person by caring about people whether they care about you back, or if who you care for is an actual somebody or just the memory of them. The character that kills himself has, as one of his final thoughts, that people did not know him well; in the show that follows, I believe we are left to contemplate how many of the other characters share a dark proximity to that sentiment, and that they will avoid it is what we are meant to hope for.
I realize that this entire review doesn’t say very much about the show specifically, and may just seem like a bunch of weird, broad statements about so-on and so-forth. If you do go see it, though, I hope you’ll keep these thoughts in mind. I think they’ll make sense to you then.
The Good: Pretty much everything is good about this show, but I found that the end of the closet scene was what made it go from good to great. I really felt that there was an easy way out of it for a playwright and a hard one, and that the more challenging tack was taken. I love it when this happens. That was when Lifeline really dove into ‘holy shit…!’ territory for me.
The Bad: Though performed well, some things go a little long – the flirtations between paramedic and nurse, and parts of certain monologues.
The Final Verdict: This is a very, very good show that should absolutely not be missed. It’s really exciting to see a company this young – and their youth does show, despite solid performances – deliver such an extraordinary and heartfelt production. Go.
All or None – Toronto Fringe Festival – Facebook Page
All or None makes an early, extended reference to The Bachelor, and it fits: This play is full of the same endless ruminations on love and marriage as a subject of destiny, insecurity and commercial-breaking indecision as you’d find on any reality show.
Unfortunately, this is the only thing that the play is really full of, and unlike The Bachelor, it doesn’t have the grand locations, bleached-teeth close-ups or high fashion spectacle to fall back on. It wouldn’t be fair to say that nothing happens in All or None – a misunderstood job interview / first date is a brilliant little piece, and everyone drinks seemingly non-stop – but unless you’re the type to squeal whenever Bret Michaels speculates that someone might truly be the girl for him, I don’t think you’ll get much out of this play.
Mind you, this doesn’t mean it’s not occasionally enjoyable. All or None is not trying to transcend or transform its intended audience (lucky, bored white people, presumably) or mature outside of its pop-cultural framework. All of its characters are immediately recognizable to anyone who has seen a film intended to launch the acting career of a pop singer, and the supporting roles manage to have an entertaining time existing in various degrees of torture over the whiny, insipid main ones. The first 45 minutes or so is the angst of everyone over whether or not their relationships properly furnish their overarching adorations of their own self-importance – lots of drinking here, and an obligatory 4/20 moment – followed by 15 fun minutes of actual story and tension, and finishing with 15 minutes of more discontent over a predictable conclusion.
Really, and without spoiling it, I think the ending is more interesting to view as revenge porn for all those women on eHarmony in their late twenties who think their viper-ish marketing jobs and world travel experiences accredit them to wreck the relationships of the lesser women who stayed home and cared about someone. After all, they’re the ones who really fit in with all those good (see: rich, successful, 99th percentile) guys, right?
Indeed, this play is basically (and cynically) concerned with putting everyone in their place as fate accords it. Moderately attractive women unable to secure more than one-night-stands should have to actually settle for a sense of humour rather than just pay lip service to it, unrealistically wonderful people find their perfect matches and survive betraying their fiancées self-righteously, and women in short skirts end up with obnoxious lost boys who are forever bearded; slouching through their food service careers.
But, of course, we all know this, so what exactly is the company attempting to challenge? It may be a cute little thing, but All or None is about as inessential as it gets.
The Good: Christina Aceto really tears it up in dual roles, providing the vast majority of the laughs overall. It’s the kind of performance that will stick out in your mind no matter how many shows you see this Fringe.
The Bad: When the play ends, you almost get the sense that everyone was going for some kind of sad or mature moment in the narrative. With all due respect, this is a ridiculous play – one that is about people who nobody should really feel sorry for, or at least not for any reason that we’re shown – and I think taking itself seriously sort of pierces the experience overall. Also, everyone is such a relatively thin archetype, with such familiar problems, that the whole thing could really be a lot shorter.
The Final Verdict: You know what? Go see it. A lot of the whining and bitching drags on and on, but it has some good moments, and if you pretend that the play is really supposed to be a satire of what it’s attempting to be seriously – I suggest mentally dubbing the teacher’s voice from Charlie Brown into much of the dialogue – you can have a really good time.
Trevor Small (Len Forsythe) and Suzette McCanny (Sharon Kaplowski), Photo by Gord Tultz
The Four Minute Mile – Toronto Fringe Festival – Official Site
If The Four Minute Mile is intended to be about a man descending into jackassery, I’d say the problem is that it isn’t much of a descent. An unsympathetic protagonist, too much story compression and a bizarre conclusion that turns the entire play into an extended joke mar what seems to be an otherwise talented company.
Ostensibly, the story is about Len Forsythe (Trevor Small), an office-drone-turned-motivational speaker who encourages others to live their lives to the fullest only to lose his own in doing so. Forsythe’s obsession with his career ultimately leads to his old friend Darryl (Brian Starks) having the opportunity to use Les’ own techniques to transform himself into some kind of Neil Strauss / Mystery figure, with all of the implied creepiness intact, who then steals Les’ longtime girlfriend Sharon (Suzette McCanny). Why Sharon isn’t Les’ wife by this point in the play isn’t explained, but I’m guessing it’s because the motivational mojo Darryl appropriates doesn’t register as powerful enough to break up a marriage in the 45 seconds that it takes Darryl to convince Suzette to get drunk with him. This is the only thing in the play that really happens – everything else is just kind of a setup, and a broad one at that.
And what parallel is the show’s title, an allusion to Roger Bannister’s then-thought impossible run of the four-minute mile, supposed to have within the play? Is it the idea that Darryl, a diminutive electrician, could have the tedious machismo to swipe the girl of a seething self-love guru? Electricians make bank, bro.
Whatever the title may refer to, it certainly isn’t the easily foregone success of Forsythe, whom the play goes out of its way to establish as endlessly successful with women (he loves them and leaves them, prior to meeting and immediately seducing Suzette on the first day he meets her) incredibly intelligent (he gets into every college in a large book of colleges) and professionally invincible (he gets ‘fired’ from a job when its contract runs out – I don’t think he knows what being fired is.)
If all this ubermensch is intended to set Forsythe up as someone who won’t see his fall coming, as well as the type of person ripe for exploitation by the ego-gratifying motivational speaking industry, it’s understandable. Unfortunately, it also renders him almost completely impossible to rally behind, giving you no real stake in whatever happens to him. If the company had more time, or made different choices, maybe they could have elaborated on his character to the point where we could care.
In the end, what is this play? Is it a call for humility through a criticism of superiority? There is lots of stuff in the play about Ancient Rome, and how their empire fell apart because of how sick they were of being so badass, and how its individual parts preferred a less potent but more personal identity. In the end, though, Darryl wins over Suzette with the same old Roman bullshit. Maybe this play is about how Suzette is a woman locked in an endless cycle of dating emergent alpha male douche bags? I guess that ground has been covered.
The Good: Performances across the board are solid, and direction in the minimal space is well done. Trevor Small and Suzette McCanny have the right kind of chemistry – attracted to each other, but kind of confused by each other at the same time. McCanny is a bit of a doormat whenever Small is being a gigantic crybaby in a way that I’m not sure reflects what long-term relationships are really like, but the script may not give them much of a choice.
The Bad: The use of multimedia is problematic, both in content and amplification, but I’m told that this may have been specific to the performance I attended. Also, you know, everything else.
The Final Verdict: If the subject matter of motivational speaking interests you, or if you really like to focus on performance, it’s probably worth the sit. Otherwise, I think Theatre Symbiosis is a group to watch for in the future. This is probably a middle-of-the-road play for the Fringe, it’s just made worse by what could have been done with more – all in all, maybe it just tries to cram too much into what it wants to do.
(Disclosure: I have known the Director of this show for many years.)
Amy Zuch, present and former, star in Key to Key
Amy Zuch’s Key to Key – Toronto Fringe Festival – Official Site
I was in the Comedy Brawl with Amy Zuch last summer and have seen her perform a few other times: She is very funny. Her self-depreciation sneaks up on you a bit, because by appearance alone she doesn’t really look the type to be so down on herself – career unseen, you might think she’d put together this year’s Sara Hennessey Town – but Key to Key is here to explain all that. Amy Zuch, as it turns out, used to be sixty pounds heavier, have bad teeth, bad skin, and lived alone in a hotel room with nobody to reach out to but room service.
Like any autobiographical solo show, Key to Key lives or dies on the resonance of its authenticity. Even if you identify with it, you scrutinize it that much harder. As the story of a person lost in the fantasy of creative career success before its undertones of anger over a lousy personal appearance and a consequently shitty life bubble to the surface, I was as enthusiastic to cast aspersions on this play as I was to see it.
But I cannot: It is great.
Zuch spouts cheerful neuroses full of hoping to become a Disney animator to herself, the audience, and cartoon shellfish of her own creation, but of course there is nothing crazy about any of it: Obsession with artistic achievement is a perfect hedge against self-loathing and a lack of self-esteem, particularly when you are young. Your lack of success in your lofty personal ambitions hasn’t yet begun to mirror your lack of success with other people, and it genuinely seems like the long shot by which you will prove yourself (after, of course, everyone better off than you now eventually fails.)
Then, of course, you grow up, and you find yourself with neither what you never had nor what you tried to get instead – the world going on all around and without you – and realize that there is nothing left to do but either make a change or do nothing itself. Zuch walks us through all of this with a candour that never feels forced, and focuses on her real issues rather than self-indulgently lionizing her own bravery.
She also doesn’t cut corners, and talks openly about how struggles with her appearance are tied heavily into obsessive-compulsive disorder, family tragedies, and how some of the solutions were not triumphs of the will but rather of the wallet. She also doesn’t fall into the trap of making it all about friends and family, humourously reminding the audience that the people who love you can end up being the ones who hurt the most.
I feel like I’ve spoiled enough of it, but I was really pleasantly surprised with this show, and hope dearly that it isn’t overlooked in the huge crunch of Fringe, and competing interests. Please stop caring about soccer and go see this play.
The Good: In addition to everything I’ve already said, there are musical elements to the show that also help to keep it moving at a good pace. When she goes to belt out a song, you imagine that the quality of her voice will be strictly in the spirit of the comedy it contains – you will be surprised. She can sing.
The Bad: Zuch soft-pedals a lot of how miserable and personal rejection is, making it seem only slightly awkward, and I don’t think she fully goes to the bottom of the complexity of how the overweight both hate and take solace in shitty food. She had the tension and quiet rage to throw those French fries over our heads and smash them into the wall if she wanted to – she should have.
Final Verdict: If you grew up fat and obsessed with trying to make the beautiful things you could not be yourself, this is the must-see show of the festival. If you don’t like it, it’s because you don’t know anything about it. Also, go fuck yourself.
The hardest day of my life was the day that I realized that I was not important; that nobody really cared about what I was doing except for me.
Since then, I’ve just looked at who I am as someone who has excellent taste in myself. Nobody will ever feel the struggle or the pain; all we can really read in each other, I think, is victory.
And even this is only a projection of longing for the victory that we ourselves would like to have, instead of the person we momentarily, enviously admire.
We are all lonely, snobby connoisseurs of the self.
But still: For her, I would try.
Asked Tuesday if there actually was a five-metre rule given the ministry’s clarification, Toronto Police Chief Bill Blair smiled and said, “No, but I was trying to keep the criminals out.”
This is the thing: Cops lie all the time. They lie to get confessions out of people, they lie in exigent circumstances where the truth is immediately dangerous, and they lie to outmaneuver people who are lying themselves. By the time you get to be the Chief of Police, lying is probably your weapon of choice for dealing with damn-near anything.
And frankly, how many more career paths could we say this of? Maybe not all of them represent what we expect from the people who we collectively authorize to walk around with guns, but there are many, many weapons in this life.
We may expect honesty and transparency from public officials based on principle, but I hardly think we should be surprised when we don’t get it. In their professional journeys, they climb over mountains of career corpses belonging to those who decided that they weren’t going to be that way; that they were the ones who were going to be different.
The real machine is not of anybody’s design, or political system – it is found in the fact that, at the end of the day, your choice is largely to do what you’ve been tasked to do or face destruction.
Many people then find themselves in a position to either do wrong or be destroyed, also knowing that they will only be replaced by someone who will if they choose not to.
So, if your lot in life is to do good things, then count yourself lucky, but lucky may be all you really are.
Certain passions are just not as favourable. People have them anyways.
Because I am now spending all of my free time trying to become gorgeous instead of trying to become a writer, I am sore and have nothing to say. This might all change soon, though, depending on who fails to love me over one or the other.
In the meantime, you can read this interview Karen Whaley did with me for the Albatross:
http://www.sayitwithpie.com/2009/11/interview-will-oneill-of-the-albatross/
Alright?
Now that I am too old for fat idiocy to be endearingly characteristic, I’ve decided to begin learning how to feed myself in the way of the old country: Cooking.
Some people might say that a sophisticated urban professional such as myself, who wears a shirt with buttons, and measures a prospective manpurse for the snug fitting of an iPad, should have social license to eat at restaurants as much as he can afford. Most of the people who say this, though, probably imagine me eating at many of the fine and varied gastronomical establishments that downtown Toronto has to offer; none of them would know the truth.
You see, I am from Scarborough, and even though I am middle class, I did not have any of these fancy-lad restaurants growing up. I am comfortable eating at Subway and Swiss Chalet into perpetuity without allowing myself to see it as unusual, which is exactly what I’ve spent the last three years doing. I even know what friends of mine would eat at Swiss Chalet, or at least one of my friends, who is basically my only friend now.
Because, similar to the restaurant situation, I only like people from Scarborough.
But how will I ever get over this unless I am extremely sexy? It does not seem possible. And so, for the sake of my health and appearance, I need to learn how to properly prepare original foodstuffs without killing myself through expired food, undercooking, or anything else that my impatient and absent-minded nature probably deserves.
I’m so terrified of this, however, that I have yet to actually prepare any meat. So far I made a scrambled egg, some kind of vegetarian hamburger, and some sandwiches. I bought hamburger buns for the real hamburgers that I have the meat for, but so far I’ve just sat at my computer dipping those buns into hummus. Here’s a recipe for that in case you didn’t catch it:
Hamburger Buns in Hummus
Ingredients
Hamburger Buns
Hummus
Directions
1. Dig bag of hamburger buns out from under pile of unopened mail, old receipts, and clothing on kitchen counter.
2. Break twisty-tie thing in half while trying to remove it from bag of hamburger buns; recite profanities.
3. Remove hamburger bun from bag, not realizing that they are attached to each other and tearing another hamburger bun in half.
4. Fail to realize the fragility of poppy seeds on hamburger bun, as poppy seeds fall off the bun and all over your clothes, and onto the floor.
5. Get hummus out of fridge, and cut your mouth trying to bite open the weird plastic sealing on the container.
6. Go take a shower and get properly dressed because it’s 3 p.m. and you’re still wearing pyjamas.
7. Watch 3 episodes of The Sopranos while eating hummus and hamburger buns in nothing but a bath towel, spilling even more poppy seeds onto your hairy man-torso.
8. Get dressed and leave to go purchase unnecessary consumer electronics, forgetting to put the hummus back in the fridge, which probably turns it into hemlock.
You see? Everything is going to be alright.
