Surprises, clunkers … and butter chicken

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 16/07/2020 (2202 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

In a better, brighter, COVID-free world, the Winnipeg Fringe Festival would have started Wednesday, July 15.

It was not to be. Like a lot of Winnipeggers deprived of reliable activities, I’m feeling the absence of those 12 days keenly.

It’s habit, for one thing. As an entertainment reporter, I’ve been attending the annual theatre fest for the better part of 30 years.

I must add: It was never a task. Even when I was covering film, fringe season has always been my favourite time of year.

That didn’t change when I took over the theatre beat from Kevin Prokosh back in 2015. The workload increased, of course. The Herculean task of assigning 170-plus plays to a squad of around 20 reviewers — with specific plays going to specific reviewers whenever possible — is a tricky business, complicated by cancelled shows, suddenly unavailable reviewers, reviewers with previous engagements during the first five days of the fest, etc.

Even so, once I was out trotting through the Exchange District and doing my best to see everything on my own list, I was as happy as could be. And it wasn’t any single thing that elated me.

Let’s say there were five.

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1. Discovering

As with some movies, it’s often best to go into a fringe show without knowing anything about it. (Given occasionally obscure or downright opaque descriptions in the fringe program, this could be all too easy.)

When those plays turned out to be wonderful, it was a bit of a gift. Not only have you seen something terrific, but it’s your job to tell people about it.

In the past few years, I’ve had that feeling with works such as Macbeth Muet in 2017, or that same year, the Gothic comedy Edgar Allan from the Coldharts, or last year’s Commando: The Radio Play, a hilarious deconstruction of an ’80s action movie. Discovering a new play gives you the thrill of getting in on the ground floor of a sure-fire investment.

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2. The Reliables

Sometimes, searches for the next best fringe thing don’t pan out. Luckily, the fringe has for the past few years featured acts that never fail to deliver the goods. These include the brilliant local musical improv troupe Outside Joke, and also the sketch comedy of Winnipeg’s HUNKS, which was simultaneously meticulous in its production, yet weirdly spontaneous in its delivery. Then there’s the invariably good-natured japing of Vancouver’s Graham Clark and the lively, eccentric storytelling (with illustrations) of JD Renaud.

How good were they? I generally assigned the shows to other critics. But I still paid money (yes, forgoing use of my fringe press pass) to see their performances after the reviews were already written.

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3. The terrible shows

The flip side of the “Discovery” coin is when you find yourself at a show so bad, it’s perversely delightful. My peak terrible experience was of a show that was performed just once at Rachel Browne Theatre a few years back. (I can’t recall the title.) It had a promising premise, combining classic horror elements with sketch comedy, but it was a disaster on both performance and writing fronts. Afterwards, the performer-playwright told us to hold our (polite) applause; the show was terrible, she said, and would not be performed again. And it was cancelled thereafter.

How could you not walk away from a show like that not feeling privileged to have seen something so rare?

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4. The socializing

Chatting with people in line. Chatting with handbilling performers. Chatting with the volunteers. Chatting with critics from other media outlets who have been assigned thdave same show.

That last one doesn’t happen as often as it used to.

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5. Butter chicken in the beer tent

The first or second night of reviewing, I have always contrived to make my way to fringe central at Old Market Square, pick up a bowl of butter chicken and rice at the India Palace kiosk, and head for the beer tent to find something to wash it down (notwithstanding Free Press drinks writer Ben Sigurdson’s reliably harsh critiques of the venue’s anemic beverage selection).

You would think a critic sitting among a lot of fringe artists might be occasionally tense, especially in the wake of a one- or two-star review. But in my experience, the beer tent has generally been a peaceable kingdom. And when other critics show up, there’s the added value of alcohol-stimulated decompression after a satisfying long day’s work.

Oh, butter chicken in the beer tent, I think I miss you most of all.

randall.king@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @FreepKing