Good article I thought...Im hoping someone here took some photos they can share?
http://www.theatermania.com/peterfilichia/
August 20, 2008
I Wish to Go to the Festival
So I’m busy with the Fringe Festival. Who isn’t, says every New Yorker interested in theater, as we approach the last week of the New York International Fringe Festival. No – while I am attending a number of shows in Fringe NYC (Carol Lempert is absolutely sensational in That Dorothy Parker), I’m actually at a much bigger Fringe Festival – the biggest, in fact, in North America.
I had to get out my passport and go to Alberta, Canada to do it. But here I am at the 27th Edmonton International Fringe Theatre Festival. Here, 200 groups will stage 139 shows -- plays, musicals, as well as revues both comic and musical – from August 14 to 24.
Many artists called the festival, but comparatively few were chosen; all that were had to win a lottery to get a booking at one of the 12 theaters. But those who lost the game of chance but wouldn’t be denied are here, too – for they agreed to go to the trouble of finding their own theaters and set up their own box offices. These shows are at spaces known as BYOV: Bring Your Own Venue.
Even before I set foot in a theater, I’m tremendously impressed with the city of Edmonton’s commitment to the event. That there are pages upon pages of reviews in the newspaper are surprising enough, but even more astonishing is that the festival turns out to be the second story on a local TV news show. Sure, it’s August, always a slow news month, and yes, the lead story concerned an Edmonton film producer who got approval from the government to run a porn channel as long as 50% of the “actors” were Canadian. But coverage of the festival came next, with a reviewer giving her opinion of three shows. So by the time I pass a jewelry store and see a sign in the window that says, “Closed for Staff Shortage,” I’m guessing that happened because everyone is going to the Festival, or is volunteering to work it.
You’d surmise the same if you were walking these streets. Lanes of traffic are blocked off to let playgoers get to their theaters a little easier. “Caution: Festival Pedestrians” signs are ubiquitous in Old Strathcona – this district of Edmonton in which the Fringe Festival plays. If it weren’t for a roadway the size of Fifth Avenue street separating one sidewalk from the other, you’d swear you were in the East Village. There are tattoo parlors, comic book emporiums, and plenty of “record” stores too. I drop into a few of the last-named to see how their original cast album sections are doing. Three offer nothing but Andrew Lloyd Webber shows. The fourth, Southside Sound, not only sports the Lord’s works, but also TWO copies of Lehman Engel’s studio cast album of Gershwin’s Oh, Kay! Fittingly, there’s a sign in that store’s window with a drawing of a very old man, under which are the words, “We Are Geezer Friendly.” (On the other hand, a stop-in at video store results in the first time I’ve ever seen an entire SECTION headlined “Shakespeare.”)
As I walk the street, dozens of Scott Siegels are handing out flyers for their Fringe shows. The one for Crude Love says that it’s “written and performed by Gillian and Russell Bennett,” but it’s the second verb in the next credit that shows how one particular theatrical occupation has become particularly important in the last few years: “Directed and dramaturged (italics mine) by Emeilia Symington Fedy.”
There are restaurants galore, where service is amazingly leisurely, though customers don’t seem to mind and waitpersons feel no need to apologize. Still, maybe those slow chefs gave rise to something we sure don’t get in any New York fringe festival: A genuine carnival midway where theatergoers running from one show to the next can grab a quick hot dog or cappuccino – not to mention Green onion cakes and Butter Chicken Pizza, treats I’ve never been offered in the States.
Yup, Old Strathcona is a young part of town, and all through the weekend, though my hotel room is seven floors above the action, I can still hear revelry from passers-by well into the wee small hours of the morning. Festival audiences always tend to be young; that’s substantiated when a show I see has a joke about Abbie Hoffman’s Steal This Book, and the gag doesn’t even get a snicker of recognition.
But the middle-aged and elderly are well represented, too. Many morbidly obese couples arrive and position themselves so a vacant seat is between them to allow for more comfort. Nevertheless, more often than not, they must surrender the seat to a real live playgoer. How nice, too, to see so many people in wheelchairs at the theater. The festival must have such a strong reputation that no one wants to be denied.
Each year’s Festival has a catchphrase – not a theme, mind you, but a catchphrase – to give a brand-name identity. Previous ones have included A Clockwork Fringe and Attack of the Killer Fringe. (See? Means nothing, but sounds cute.) This year’s theme is The Big Kahuna. The press materials tell me, “Bring your coconut bra,” but I think I’ll just leave that to Danny Burstein.
I spend a good deal of time meticulously reading the Festivals 9-by-12 inch 88-page full-color catalogue (with a $6 price tag). It has details for every show as well as little symbols; my favorite is a whole bunch of concentric circles, which means “Strobe light used.” The booklet also warns that every show will start precisely on time (which turned out to be true for all 19 productions I saw) and that latecomers won’t be admitted. Indeed, I never saw any playgoer enter after the lights came up. Anyone who wants to leave to use the restroom will essentially be banished to theatrical version of Urinetown – meaning he simply won’t be readmitted. No one ever is for any reason. The festival honchos sure take their theatergoing seriously.
The venues range from genuine Edmonton theaters that are in use all year long to a school auditorium, a hastily reconverted telephone museum, or even a real estate office. Folding chairs must do in the less glamorous venues, but worse than that – especially in August – is that these spaces aren’t air conditioned. By the final curtain, many actors will find their shirts sports sweat stains the size of – well, air conditioners. Audience members, too, have it rough, and everyone is grateful if he’s seated next to a person who’s fanning himself, because he just might catch some of the collateral breeze.
But most shows are hour-long and intermissionless, so even if you’re stuck at a stinker, you won’t be in agony for too long. Artists who come here want to see if audiences are intrigued by what they’ve done thus far; if a show can beguile the crowd, then its creators just might continue with the project.
Bet a lot of them do, given the warm reception the audience gives most of the shows I see. When I’m getting my next ticket from one ticket-seller at the eight-station box office, I hear chatter from my left or right that proves most everyone is content to take theatrical pot luck. True, there seems to be greater interest in shows with provocative titles. To wit, Balls! which comes from Ten Pole Productions – a troupe so-named because it “only takes on scary issues that most theater companies wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.”
Balls! was one of the 19 shows I saw. How was it and the others? Ah, that’s what Friday’s column will divulge.
You may e-mail Peter at
pfilichia@aol.com
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