Fringe reviews #8: You decide to exit, pursued by a bear

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This article was published 20/07/2025 (423 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

BODICE RIPPER: A LOVE STORY

Holly M. Brinkman

MTC Up the Alley (Venue 2), to Saturday

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Part improv and part sultry set piece, Holly Brinkman’s spicy, mostly one-woman show digs into her love of romance novels.

Each show features a different guest performer from the fringe, who offers their own brief, steamy monologue before Brinkman steps back on stage. She breaks down romance novels into their component parts — “meet cute,” “sexy middle,” “crisis” and “happily against all odds,” although not delivered in that order in the show — taking suggestions from the crowd on character names, scenarios, genres, etc. An interactive slide show lets audience offer suggestions through their phones — an interesting albeit slightly distracting way to help shape the story.

The Victoria, B.C., performer is a very good storyteller, who never falters while cooking up sensual stories on the fly from audience cues and fleshing out compelling plotlines. The steamy 50-minute show will vary slightly based on the guest performer, who returns to act out a “meet cute” and play a saucy game of truth or dare with Brinkman to close the show.

— Ben Sigurdson

CHUCKLE HUNTERS LIVE

Chuckle Hunters Improv

The Rachel Browne Theatre (Venue 8), to Sunday

⭐⭐

In this episode of Chuckle Hunters Live, one improviser chooses the costumes, sets the scene and predicts how the performance will end. It’s a good concept in theory, but one that flounders in practice.

There’s talent and fun chemistry among the Chuckle Hunters — a Winnipeg improv troupe of Brody Sjodin, Charles Hunter, Kathryn Derksen and Quinton Vander Aa — but the dynamic is thrown off by the format, which creates a vested interest in things progressing a certain way. The result is too much “well, actually” and not enough “yes, and.”

The 60-minute improv show was also bogged down by character details neither the audience nor the performers could remember. The wittiest improvisations and funniest lines came when the cast was able to stretch out and explore a scene without interruption.

— Eva Wasney

INESCAPABLE

Concrete Drops Theater

PTE — Colin Jackson Studio (Venue 17), to Sunday

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Fringe vets Martin Dockery and Jon Paterson team up again for this hilarious, anxiety-riddled and brain-bending cyclical show that takes the audience to the brink of madness and back.

Before things even kick off, Let it Snow plays on a loop over the PA, setting the tone for the lunacy to come. Taking a break from a holiday party, Dockery and Paterson are examining a mysterious small box the latter dug out of the former’s closet.

Seemingly stuck in some sort of time loop, every few minutes Dockery’s character frantically asks versions of the same questions about the box. As Paterson’s answers evolve slightly each time, clues about the duo’s backstory of fraught friendships, infidelity, unhappiness and more are gradually revealed.

In anyone else’s hands this show might not work, and if Inescapable were any more than 45-ish minutes long, the play might live up to its name. But the writing and frantic pace here are pitch-perfect, and Dockery and Paterson’s performances prove mesmerizing.

— Ben Sigurdson

HMONG CLASS 101

Jasmine Yang

The Rachel Browne Theatre (Venue 8), to Sunday

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Learning how to “smile until your cheeks hurt” as a trained Hmong dancer has served Jasmine Yang well. She puts that skill to use in this 45-minute comedy, lighting up the stage with her megawatt smile and natural charisma. The Detroit-based theatre grad also shows off her acting chops, embodying a variety of characters to explore both the history of the Hmong (the “h” is silent) people and her own identity.

You won’t find anything about this stateless ethnic group at Folklorama next month, so take this opportunity to learn more about the Hmong’s rich culture and nearly lost language in a thoroughly enjoyable show that honours their perseverance.

Yang beautifully examines how to navigate identity in a world obsessed with labels. If you’ve ever felt like too much — or not enough — this show is for you. And in a story about belonging, it’s clear Yang belongs on the fringe stage.

— Jeffrey Vallis

HOCKEY STICKS AND BEAVER PIE

Melanie Gall Presents

Théâtre Cercle Molière (Venue 3), to Sunday

⭐⭐⭐

Vocalist Melanie Gall returns to the stage for her 13th year at fringe, delivering a performance filled with a history lesson for — and love letter to— Manitoba.

Kicking off the 60-minute musical with a sing-along, the Alberta-born songbird breezed through and belted out Manitoba’s most memorable moments, local landmarks and iconic figures, while inserting stories about growing up in oil country and living in Brooklyn, N.Y.

Endearing and witty, Gall embraces the monumental moments that put this province on the map (If Day, Gimli Glider), while acknowledging the complex legacy of others (Hudson’s Bay Company).

Although Gall’s vocal range is wider than the history she covers, her performance does feature a surprise — her banjo. This feel-good, family friendly show will keep your toes tapping, and heart warm for this beautiful province.

— Nadya Pankiw

A LESBIAN IN THE KITCHEN

Willow Roots Productions

The Output (Venue 12), to Sunday

⭐⭐⭐

In Willow Rosenberg’s kitchen, there’s no obligation to follow the recipe. In fact, doing so is actively discouraged. This hour-long cooking show is about adapting, bucking tradition and finding your own flavour. And like any good cooking show, there’s personal storytelling and live demonstrations.

Sporting a Julia Child-esque frock, Winnipeg’s Rosenberg shares her late mother’s recipes for challah and hamantaschen, while discussing Jewish culinary traditions and her trans lesbian identity.

There’s a lot on the table, including obvious nerves, but the concept is sweet and fans of food memoirs will likely enjoy a live take on the genre.

The set is also well-conceived and made to look like a TV cooking studio with a top-down camera and a real (Easy-Bake) oven that infuses the room with the aroma of freshly baked cookies.

— Eva Wasney

A MYSTERY AT MURDER MANOR

Chris Gibbs

Planetarium Auditorium (Venue 9), to Sunday

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Barnaby Gibbs, the bumbling Dr. Watson-like right-hand man of Sherlock Holmes-ish sleuth Antoine Feval, is back to narrate a brand new, hilarious investigation.

The large, enthusiastic crowd out for opening night of the one-man show speaks to the success of British-born Torontonian Chris Gibbs’ 2024 shows (Not Quite Sherlock: The Tunnel of Terror and The Gaslight Detective).

In Murder Manor, Barnaby recounts how he and Feval dealt with the appearance of a mysterious ghost in the sprawling manor of the uncle of one of Barnaby’s former classmates, which is rivetingly unpacked in due course.

This new show saw a couple of lines slightly flubbed, but Gibbs was quick to poke fun at himself, garnering big laughs. And despite a mic issue, he easily projects his voice across the packed house as he jumps between characters (including a fight scene between a half-dozen characters where he showed off his impressive physical-comedy chops.)

At 60 minutes, the show’s tighter than last year, and Gibbs’ nimble, charismatic delivery and ability to connect with the crowd (often via asides) leave folks in stitches.

— Ben Sigurdson

ODDS ARE

Good Grief

Asper Centre for Theatre & Film (Venue 10), to Saturday

⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Never tell me the odds.” — Han Solo

Let’s just say New York artist-storyteller Smita Russell is very un-Han-like in her 60-minute solo show (not counting a cellist accompanist). She is fascinated by odds, and at first, the predilection is benign, beginning with coincidental Anne Hathaway sightings in New York immediately after she has watched Anne Hathaway movies. The wife of a scientist, Russell has a number of scientist friends whom she can consult on the odds.

But the stakes are raised when applied to her own tragic history of losing late-term pregnancies. Her actuarial obsession is mixed with an earlier love of Greek mythology — as a child, she designed a Halloween costume depicting fertility goddess Demeter — and Russell feels obliged to come through the crisis for the sake of her successfully birthed son.

The writing here is very elegant, but not so cerebral that it doesn’t give play to an unfathomably difficult emotional journey. (At the beginning of the monologue, she is sitting demurely at a desk. By the end, she’s standing on it.) Russell is a New Yorker, but the show has a local element: she was brought to Winnipeg by producer Jacquie Loewen, who directed an earlier iteration of the show.

— Randall King

SHIT: THE MUSICAL

Misty Mountain Music

Théâtre Cercle Molière (Venue 3), to Saturday

⭐

Winnipeg performer Donnie Baxter’s one-man musical feels like a ’90s after-school show gone horribly wrong — like if Barney sang about bowel movements instead of friendship. Set in a university lecture hall, Dr. Eaton Fartmore teaches a class on the semantics of poop through stories and off-key songs that drag on like a bad bout of constipation.

As the title suggests, the show is packed with relentless bathroom jokes that are about as funny as they are original. The music — available on SoundCloud via a QR code in the fringe program — has to be heard to be believed, though you probably won’t want to hear it twice.

The 45-minute runtime was a slog, proving too much for three audience members who walked out before the end. When Baxter sheepishly waved and backed offstage without taking a bow, it felt like even he knew: this shit was a real stinker.

— Jeffrey Vallis

THE TEMPESTUOUS: A SHREW’D NEW COMEDY

Penash Productions

John Hirsch Mainstage (Venue 1), to Sunday

⭐⭐⭐⭐ ½

But soft, what blazing ball of energy and brilliant stagecraft descended upon the John Hirsch Mainstage stage? Why, it’s award-wining triple-threat Penny Ashton, who returns to the fringe after an eight-year hiatus.

The Auckland, New Zealand-based performer, who last appeared here in Promise and Promiscuity, unleashes her latest torrent, er, one-woman musical, co-written with the Bard, about “stroppy spinster” Princess Rosa, who rails against belching stepfathers and cocksure suitors to realize her destiny as a newly empowered, validated queen.

Ashton scarcely misses a beat as she morphs among a dizzying array of Shakespearean-styled characters during the 90-minute comedy, crafting each one with distinct vocal inflection and physical mannerisms.

Not only can she belt out numbers and dance like no one’s watching, she’s also a crackerjack improviser, with her audience participation sections adding even more mirth to this roiling cauldron of feminist fun — including one particularly pointed political barb. While it’s admittedly tricky at times just to keep up, this force of nature is back with an Elizabethan bang.

— Holly Harris