BrokeAss Fringe 08/10/2011 7:16pm

Dear Broke Friends, These past few days I’ve felt like a lapsed Catholic, racked with guilt as I buy overpriced cafe food while I’ve been consuming voracious amounts of theater. Now, after a hearty trip to the grocery store in preparation for my next posting, I am ready to binge on the last few days of delectable Fringe offerings: I love you!, I Love You, (We’re F*#cked)!” Sunday mornings are hard. Sunday 1pm shows are even harder. But Kevin J. Thornton’s I Love You, We’re F*#ked was the best way to nurse that hangover and wake up to the day. In the land of one man shows, Kevin’s set of stories, songs, and standup shine and are simply a good time. Thorton’s tales aren’t incredibly unique; 7th grade crushes, Christian rock bands, and the thread of a hellish breakup. But his wit, razor sharp sense of humor, and balls to the wall physicality set the whole show on STUN. Not to mention that his series of Blood Stories complete with their own theme song and mid-90’s hip-hop references make me think we are soulmates. He just charms the pants off you and then makes you laugh at yourself for getting caught with your pants down. I laughed a ridiculous amount and appreciated someone else talking about ugly things in a true way. So, get ready to throw down some money, because I’m sure he’s gonna sell well. Deadline: I Choose You Frequent Fringe team James Rone and Jake Scott return with Deadline, casting themselves as two down-and-out Choose Your Own Advenutre authors making a last-ditch attempt to save the series. The pair improv their way through audience suggestions and provide us with frequent opportunities to sway the scene. Rhone and Scott are consistently charming, if not constantly sharp. But their chemistry shows and they landed at least one sublime plot line with hilarious riffing on the recent release of the Planet-of-the-Apes Prequel. As Improvers playing teachers, I’d give them a B+. As a Fringe Show, the premise pays off and there’s good-hearted fun to be had. I would choose to make this an adventure on my 5 Pass. RE Dance: The Attic Room This is dance theater with spoken text. Those words are always a risk for me, but I think it is important for me tto go see movement. It also helps that I have a huge crush on dance and its ability to connect with audience in a direct, non-verbal way and yet can still challenge you to a game of cerebral twister. This risk was worth it for the artistry and imagination that was clearly poured into the show. The dancer’s bird masks were transfixing, and I was stunned by the moments when this talented group found strong physical imagery to ground them. The group’s bodies form a sailing ship in the wind, from prow to mast, and a series of arched backs become a free-floating foot path for one girl to lightly tread, mid-air. The potential of the human form is evident in this dream-like series of 26 vignettes, but I rarely felt like I could connect to the piece as a whole and that’s where I worry when I go see dance. The majority of these pieces had the air of well-rehearsed exercises, but my plot-driven brain was constantly wondering why these pieces were put together. It’s a piece that’s high on imagination, but without connecting (at least from my perspective) to the audience, the piece runs the risk of coming off as pretentious rather than inventive. I’m glad I went to exercise my non-plot brain and see some great images, but I am glad I did not bust out my 5 Pass. Camelot Crumbles At Bryant Lake Bowl, philip andrew bennet low’s Camelot is Crumbling is a one man show split between two characters from the cannon of Camelot, and plunges into the deep end of the former knights’ feelings of guilt and betrayal. He juxtaposes Lancelot, expelled from the garden and wandering the ruins of battle, with Mordred, in final conversation with a dilapidated Arthur before murdering him. I’m a literary-type with at least a blue belt in Middle English Literature, so probing into the minds and souls of these mythic figures beyond the confines of their written tales sounded right up my ally. But I really had to question many of low’s choices. With half the text piped in, I found it difficult to glean any meaning from Charlie Bethel’s reading from the source text Le Morte de Arthur by Sir Thomas Mallory. And I felt downright frustrated trying to gather context from listening to this poetry while watching low’s elongated costume changes in the half-dark. Technical concerns aside, I struggled to grasp a clear sense of character from the language itself. I found it difficult to connect with either figure when the majority of the text focused on describing emotional response rather than letting me be a part of that memory. I would hope to hear stories- even fragments of stories- truthfully told that in the re-telling, show me what it meant to become an outcast or be born an outcast. But instead I listened to broken men explain how it FELT to be broken. I was intrigued when low’s Mordred burst out of prose and into rhythmic poetry, removing a barrier and letting us in. I would go see the rest of that show in a heartbeat, because this is where low suddenly came to life. Perhaps Camelot rests too much on our assumed connection with these characters through prior knowledge of their stories, but even with a basic grasp on Arthurian legend, it was a loosing battle for me. I’m really glad I got out and about and saw all these shows. I’m really sad it took me so long to write them. And I’m REALLY glad that my next post is going to be about BrokeAss fooding for Fringe. Love, Rebekah Joy Rentzel