Inside The Fringe

Tidbits from Inside The Machine
One house, the heat, the rain and dealing with two hits
by Beat Rice

This summer marks my third year working as Front of House Manager for the Toronto Fringe Festival. It was a great year of meeting new people, working with people you only see during the Fringe, and running into old pals. 

Every year there has been a heat warning and - until this year - no rain. I was lucky enough to have shifts that happened around the rain. I was also lucky enough to have an amazing plethora of volunteers everyday and wonderful enthusiastic patrons come to see shows at my venue. I still can’t get over how many people were willing to line up for hours in the nasty smoggy weather for a show! The unknowing passerby might wonder if there was an early screening of the new Batman movie. At my venue there was one particular show which won both Patron’s Pick AND Best of the Fringe; I had people lining up to purchase tickets at the door 3 hours before they went on sale. Once they purchased their ticket they would wait another hour in the ticket holders line. 

Fringe Blog: The No Bull$#!% History of Canada - Finale

Leaving Toronto aka sadface emoticon
Part 6 - Finale
by Kyle Allatt

W00t!  The tour is done, now I can go home.  And/or boo-urns, the tour is done, now I have to go home.  There is always a bittersweet feeling to the end of a show’s run, even more so when you’re on tour.  I’m tired, but I’m elated.  I’m proud, yet I’m bummed.

By all accounts the show was a success.  We had tons of people come out to see it, sold out a few shows, got some great reviews and made it onto at least 3 media’s top picks lists.  Final show was sold out, had a killer house and I got all emotional and partially weepy saying my thanks to everyone at the end.

Fringe Blog: The No Bull$#!% History of Canada - Part 5

A Taste of Theatre
Part 5
by Kyle Allatt

Now that I’ve had a chance to check out a few Fringe shows, I figured it might be fun to throw some quickie reviews at y’all.  a) Because this is after all a review site b) because I’m a bit at a loss for blog content unless you wanna hear about how I was bitched out by a Streetcar operator and/or other scintillating stories of public transit woes.

Editor's Note:  Kyle Allatt is not a fully accredited review writer.  His experience in this matter is limited to writing a letter to the producers of the Transformers cartoon of the 1980s when he was 8 and telling them it was “totally cool” and that they should “do more stuff with Starscreme [sic]”.

Actually Editor's Note:  Hey wait, I didn't write that.  In fact, I'm not sure I'm the actual editor either.  Oh man, this is getting meta.

Review: Life in the Raw (Fringe)

by Dave Ross

Life in the Raw from Thick and Thin Theatre Productions was a welcome respite for me. I’ve been seeing comedy pretty much exclusively, and this story of a family in 1930s Montreal couldn’t be farther from that. The script (Barbara Larose) is very strong, with a minimum of extraneous material. The story itself is a painful one: very little food for the table, a prideful father, and a mother dying of cancer. 

The performances are for the most part solid. Denise Norman does an excellent, fretful Kathleen who will do anything for her daughters, while Rick Jones’s William is a perfect counterpart to her. The daughters are the focus of the story, with Faith (Rielle Braid), Nellie (Kaitlin Lane) and Hope (Brianne Tucker) doing everything they can to care for their ailing mother while trying to advance hopes and dreams of their own. Special mention goes to Lane as Nellie. Her character experiences significant growth and change, and Lane executes this effortlessly. The entire cast has to sing, and all of them are strong vocally. A small quibble with the music is that the libretto doesn’t seem to match the music rhythmically in places, leading to what feels like run-on musical sentences with the emphasis falling on odd syllables. As a musician, I found this a touch jarring, but it’s a minor thing. There is no set designer credited in the program, but it was a versatile, unobtrusive set.

This is a strong show. It is definitely done in the raw, sparing no emotion as it tells its tale. Like most Fringe shows, it could use a bit of a polish, but it does remarkably well still.  If you’re looking to see a musical that deals with some heavy subject matter, this is the show for you. 

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Review: Tinfoil Dinosaur (Fringe)

by Dave Ross

I saw Tinfoil Dinosaur on a whim, after the actor/playwright Sam Mullins flyered me in a line while I waited to see another show. Mullins was already in-character, explaining how it was his story of moving to Vancouver and coping with a social anxiety disorder. He said it was hilarious, and moved on.  His impromptu plot summary was completely accurate – he moves to Vancouver to pursue his dream of living in a big city, and finds himself falling flat on his face instead. Overwhelmed by the city, the people in it, his finances dwindling, Mullins hit rock bottom, but was saved by, of all things, a dinosaur made of tinfoil.

Mullins’ show is just him, telling his story. The wonderful thing about his performance is that while this is the story of Sam Mullins, Sam becomes an everyman. As such, we can identify with Sam and his experiences, from his elation at moving to Vancouver, to wondering if he can keep doing “this.” Each of us can see parts of ourselves in Sam, rather like looking into a mirror. It is this reflective quality that makes this show so raw and true. Mullins’ comedic style keeps the content light though, and protects the show from treacle. 

Tinfoil Dinosaur was received well at the Montreal Fringe, won Best of Fest at the Winnipeg Fringe in 2011, and was Champion at the Vancouver Story Slam in 2010. This show is a must-see of the Toronto Fringe. Tinfoil Dinosaur only has 2 shows left (July 13 @ 10:30pm and July 14 @ 8:00pm) and is very popular so be sure to arrive early. This show is delivered with such integrity that it doesn’t deserve to be missed.

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Review: Ways to Kill Ethyl (Fringe)

by Emma Lee

Two siblings try to kill their grandmother. That is the summation of the hour of this play. Intriguing. Maybe? Not really. ‘Ways To Kill Ethyl’ has some snappy dialogue, a good tag line, a moment or two of giggles, and a lovely running joke about meatballs. However it suffers from complete lack of attention to detail. A folding table, a plastic table cloth, paper plates, real cutlery and office chairs does not a dining room set make – though in a later scene wooden dining room chairs were used to establish an office. This may seem nit-picky but the sloppiness of the set slopped over into most elements of the production. From lighting which made it impossible to see people's eyes to staging which made it impossible to see people’s anything – Ways To Kill Ethyl could have been cleaned up into something crisp, clean, and fun but instead relied too heavily on the fact that trying to kill your grandmother was a plot that would entice people to buy tickets. Not to mention the fact that several plot points don’t make sense, at all, so not only does the story become increasingly convoluted it is also contradictory and undermining of characters' previously established intelligence. Many other flaws could be picked in the 60 minutes: flat acting, awkward transitions, confusion about whether the play takes place in Canada or the States, but at a certain point you have to just sit back, relax, laugh at meatball humor and ignore your growing hunger pains.  

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Review: Pornstar (Fringe)

by Jason Booker

From Chris Craddock, creator of BASH’d and Boygroove, comes Pornstar, a riotous hit.  Amy Lee as Esther, a librarian secretly filmed having sex by a former boyfriend, receives an email informing her that she has been nominated for an award as Amateur Porn Performer of the Year and is invited to the San Francisco ceremony. Naturally this comes as quite a shock, especially since Sharon, her evangelical mother – played by the quietly amusing Lynne Griffin with many of the show’s best lines – now promotes the radical Tea Party. Toss in Clarice (Sarah Mennell) - a sex advice columnist who has been recently dumped, who recognizes Esther as Sharon’s daughter - and political satire, lesbianism, dancing and gunplay ensue. The show cannot be adequately summarized and made to sound funny, because the material – while quite zany – is really quite serious and topical yet Craddock and director Bryon Laviolette have found the humour to keep the audience entertained. The quirkiest of all these narrative threads is the deceased Kate, Esther’s sister, who tells of life in Hell.  Heather Marie Annis brings life to Kate but not purpose; the mellower moments she provides are welcome and tie into the script towards the end but languish during the more raucous moments of the script. The design of the show is simple, with just a few onstage costume changes, great sound cues and some props that truly earn their giggles. I challenge anyone not to be rolling in the aisles during Esther’s Oh God speech – this performance is one of the best at the Festival. Do not miss this adult comedy, just don’t.

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Review: Antigone (Fringe)

by Jason Booker

Bringing relevance to an old Greek story can be challenging – but is possible. This Antigone, presented by Soup Can Theatre from a forty-year-old translation by David Grene (which hardly makes it current), attempts that updating by overlaying references to the Occupy movement of last Fall and the G20 protests and response into the production. However, instead of incorporating those themes into the piece, the allusions often feel too brief and anachronistic, only truly manifesting in the chicken-wire fence dragged about the stage and some beautiful choreography involving police barricades and detaining procedures.  Antigone – for those not in the know – is a play by Sophocles about the titular young woman whose two brothers have both been killed during a recent war, although due to the fact one fought against the local authority, they will not allow him to be buried in sacred grounds. In this sizeable cast of twelve, the actors are wildly uneven.  Some appear to be lost in the archaic rhythms of the text, unclear as to what the lines mean, while others needed sharper direction on how to project and emphasize the key points.  Meanwhile, there are a few like the majestic Thomas Gough as Creon, who nicely acquit themselves from the confusion onstage.  Odd choices regarding the characters also prevail, like transforming Teiresias into a hippy prophet with a harmonica.  The production appears confused and overwhelmed by what they tried to present, putting on a lovely physical production (though elements like the sloganeering banners at the end are barely seen and poorly displayed) with strong movement elements.  In place of more work on the script and its inner depth to make the play accessible to as many members of the audience as possible, it feels as though the company may have chosen to focus their energies in the wrong places, sacrificing substance for style.

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Review: SOULO (Fringe)

by Jason Booker

The reason to see the SOULO show is the people who made it – who are also the ones in it. Bravely confronting their backgrounds, the three monologues that comprise this show were written by each of the performers about their own experiences and, using their natural charm, they tell touching stories that should be heard. The show begins with an upbeat and brassy gay anthem while the three performers and their unnecessary and unfunny emcee parade on to dress the stage in Pride-related paraphernalia.  While this business sets the stage and introduces the performers, themes and style of the piece, it feels tacked on rather needlessly, which they unfortunately return to at the show’s conclusion. Marco Bernardi, the middle monologist, oozes charm, telling of coming out to his Mother, his professional aspirations and the search for a boyfriend. His energy betrays his training as a storyteller and stand-up, since his story seems malleable to modification as Bernardi plays directly to his audience from the edge of the stage, often prompting interaction with his material. The final soloist, DJ Edwards, brash and brazen, comes onstage in a platinum blonde wig and sequined dress and leaves a different person. Edwards as Vicki Lix has a loud, in-your-face persona but he strips away the over-the-top female to reveal his Saskatchewan roots and introverted adolescence. Sadly, many of the times during his story when he is about to make himself most vulnerable – speaking of his first hookup in a park for instance – Edwards yanks back from the brink, burrowing himself in an ultra-butch persona.  The style of show they have chosen demands that the performers bare themselves emotionally, but Edwards chooses to do that literally instead, hiding behind his characters, which he concedes may be unhealthy but is his coping mechanism. The heart of the show, though, actually initiates the proceedings, in a position that maybe should have been swapped with Edwards. Terrence Bryant narrates his childhood, growing up in a large family and knowing he is different, skipping to school and travelling abroad after he loses too many friends to AIDS. He is the essential piece of the story, informing the audience that there are dark moments but there is hope and there is survival, because look at everything he has come through. Grounded and heartfelt without overexposing himself, Bryant provides the historical context for his younger counterparts but also manages to connect on a deeper and more professional level than his cohorts, likely due to his professional acting credits. A charismatic and moving show, SOULO keeps it raw and simple but never seems unpolished, though sometimes it needs to recall that there is more to being queer than simply coming out and that the play does not need to apologize for going to those dark places.

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Fringe Blog: The No Bull$#!% History of Canada - Part 4

Keeping up with the Joneses
Part 4
by Kyle Allatt

Okay, let’s just get this out of the way.  Your city smells funny.  I understand that garbage is going to stink, and most especially in the summer, but this is nuts.  And this is also coming from a guy that was in town during your last 2 garbage strikes. I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but someone needs to fix it.  Tweet me when y’all get that done.

Apart from the funk, Toronto thus far has been, well,  enjoyable.  My first day in I dropped by the residence of Matt Jones and David Jones, the guys I’m staying with.  They were already on their 3rd bottle of Dan Aykroyd’s Cabernet Sauvignon Blanc and I can personally report that as insane as that man is, he makes a damn fine bottle of wine.

Review: Absolute Alice (Fringe)

by Jason Booker

With a cast of over 20 people, Absolute Alice crams an awful lot in an hour. Based on Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the piece faithfully includes all the elements of the first book from the Mad Hatter and the Tea Party to the Lobster Quadrille, croquet with the Queen and her flamingo mallets and the Knave of Hearts and his trial. One of the flaws included the Eat Me and Drink Me potions that lead to the pool of tears – there was no real growth or shrinking effect on Alice – standing on a chair and cowering under the table are weak imitations of changing size, especially if you intend to complain to the Caterpillar about never staying the same size for long. They do also forego the visit to the White Rabbit’s house for logistical reasons. The show looks amazing due to the costumes by Audrey Marriott and Max Martin (who also adapted the script) that create a steampunk effect, decadent gothic with faces painted white, some hollowed eye makeup and lots of blacks, feathers, satin and crimson lamé. The well-paced show features lots of young performers who shine in some strong cameos: the cryptic White Rabbit who’s gone down The Hole, the delightfully drowsy Dormouse, the underutilized Narrator (who should have been given  a more clear function, or been Lewis Carroll himself), a sly and slinky Cheshire Cat, the bitchy Duchess and the quietly commanding King of Hearts. Lucy Martin as Alice has an interesting take on the role, slightly jaded and sarcastic but curious, but she gets lost in the glamour of Montgomery C. Martin’s production. The show ends with a dance party instead of finding a conclusion (then again, the original book doesn’t wind up very well either) and never clearly articulates why the creators needed a new version of Alice. While there’s a strong aesthetic for the production, there isn’t a matching spin for the script or the performances to justify another adaption of everyone’s favourite LSD trip – I mean, children’s story. The title, seemingly referencing the vodka brand with the typeface used, also remains unexplained. Enjoyable and breezy, entertaining, stylish and fun, Absolute Alice might not be the best version of Carroll’s classic but it may serve as a good introduction for newcomers to the story and the newcomers in the show.

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Review: Viva! (Fringe)

by Jason Booker

VIVA: a show worth missing, even if you are a drunken frat-boy.  (VIVA is also a transit system that you’ll hate yourself for missing, but that’s another issue.)  A revoltingly amateurish show, the actors (even partway into the run) cut each other off and overlap lines, the sound and light cues are late and slow and the show lacks a truly sympathetic character. Using all the of the male parts as fodder for the sit-com style humour, this comedy about a stoner, Matt, who co-opts a video game slogan to become an accidental revolutionary attempts to balance the inactivity with the conscientious Jeremy, the roommate and cook-in-training.  Unfortunately, even Jeremy is riddled with clichés and predictable lines – and then he annoys his girlfriend and sleeps with another woman. If the writing wasn’t bad enough already, the women are thinly-drawn caricatures, only there to serve their man’s needs. Horrifically unfunny, there was barely a laugh during the performance reviewed, as the scenes dragged on. Writer and director Noah Izak will hopefully learn how to structure a show and market it better for his future Fringes, since the plot, themes and characters of this show (what little there is to discuss) were virtually unknown until the show started.

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Review: snug harbor (Fringe)

by Jason Booker

Written by and starring Tracey Erin Smith, snug harbor occupies a bring-your-own-venue entry to the Fringe - the show occurs on the second floor of The Centre, in a medium-sized room with four rings of comfortable meeting room chairs facing a yellow-curtained wall and a small projector screen. It appears that the audience is about to spend an hour in a 1970s rec-room watching a slide show of the latest family vacation.  Smith enters and, before long, it becomes apparent this is a personal story when she introduces herself as Tracey, gives a brief biography that summarizes her credits, then tells an anecdote about her father involving a giraffe hotel. This show is about the relationship between the two of them prior to his suicide in April 2010. Paralleling her journey for resolution with Joseph Campbell’s research into the patterns behind the quest of the epic hero, Tracey yearns for answers as to why her father kills himself in a rather spectacular fashion and what (if anything) she could have done to prevent this occurrence. She details how the news affects her and her sister, shakes up her relationship with her fiancé and shoves her into a downward spiral. Tracey (more familiar than a review usually would be, as the show encourages familiarity) brilliantly recreates some of the sorrowful tales of people from the Survivors of Suicide support group she attended and tells of the personal mentors and advice she received in coping with her grief. A fascinating show that explores the topic of suicide and the consequences and possible warning signs, it borders on therapeutic theatre, where the performer (who is often the writer) vents their issues in order to clear their psyche, a theatrical parallel that is deliberate. Smith and her director, Anita La Selva, seem to have chosen this venue and this style of presentation as a way of dealing with Smith’s own demons, retelling what happened as a way of helping others but also distancing herself from her pain. Sometimes theatre has the power to exorcise the evil within or eradicate the past and educate the future. In this case, snug harbor delivers confidently and strongly, always aware that it is entertainment (as the 80’s music in between chapter titles proves) but the show deals with subject matter often too ugly or personal to be spoken about in public. By exhuming these skeletons and mining this dark territory, Smith seeks to blur the line between show and session – and she succeeds.

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Review: Piecing Together Pauline (Fringe)

by Jason Booker

Piecing together Piecing Together Pauline is one tricky task. Focusing on the life of Pauline Viardot-Garcia, the play drifts between three periods in her life, as a dying Pauline reflects upon her achievements. Who is Pauline, you may well ask. She was a friend of George Sand and a champion of Ivan Turgenev. Not a reader? Pauline also rubbed shoulders with Chopin, Berlioz, Gounod and Schumann, performing and inspiring some of their musical works. She was the daughter and sister of renowned opera singers and made a name for herself in that field as well. Unfortunate that she’s not better remembered then, you might sigh; and unfortunately this play does nothing to help her cause. A jumble of scenes involving 14 actors, half of whom have multiple roles, mixes its locations and time periods so thoroughly, in an attempt to make the play fluid and theatrical, that it mostly muddles the mind. Possibly if she were better known, the audience would have a reference point and the play would be easier to follow. The work, co-written by Roxanne Deans and Director Chris Coculuzzi, often falls prey to its exposition, having characters announce who they are, where and when they are and what has happened to demand their presence. Worse still, many of the actors deliver these speeches with a completely wooden approach to the already stifled and unnatural dialogue. The rhythms of the play are peculiar with some scenes overlapping while other transitions take longer than necessary or occur only because the Director wanted to have a musical interlude; then other moments feel clipped short and the dialogue never becomes more than a re-enactment of a history text. These figures are saddled with having to explain ideas to each other instead of investigating their emotions or coming up with a plan of action, speaking of what they will do and why – but their actions always take place offstage. A directing choice that puzzles is why the older Pauline is not onstage during the first scene, though these are her memories, however she rarely leaves downstage right, in her well-lit chair, once she enters, yet often sits through ten minute periods of utter silence. The costumes and wigs are lovely but lack personal distinction. Flat and numbing at nearly 90 minutes in length, Pauline deserves more than this show offers.

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Review: A Madhouse Dramedy

by Dave Ross

Dramedy serves this piece well. It’s funny, and I laughed, and the audience laughed. It’s an austere production, with the men wearing near-identical costumes, and the set consisting of two chairs and a handful of books. There is nothing to mention about the lighting, nothing to say of a sound design. This is a character piece, driven by the four actors and nothing else.

The story of a family, living together and loathing each other unfolds on the stage. It would be a challenging piece to perform, and I have to give kudos to the cast for managing the dialogue—the first section is entirely alliterative, resulting in a tongue-twister of a script. Rage delivered with a series of P-words is nothing easy to pull off, but the entire cast manages it effortlessly. 

Of the shows I’ve seen at the Toronto Fringe so far, this is the one I would recommend. The script and the delivery are consistent, and there is nothing I love more than being continuously amused by a production. Special mention goes to out to the therapist, who spends much of the show performing as a corpse. I won’t say more than that, as I wouldn’t want to spoil the show for those yet to see it, but it can’t be easy to pull off an Irish jig while deceased. 

Review: Tick (Fringe)

by Dave Ross

What a delightful trip through contemporary Toronto and its financial woes through the eyes of an activist child! Tick, or Tickailia (Jessica Moss), is a 10-year-old girl appalled by City Council’s decision to close public libraries. Or as she learns via conference call with her mom’s city-councillor-boyfriend Murray, “reinventing them as reading stations.” 

This show is exactly what it promises to be. Tick’s primary beef is the war on children, waged by adults, always telling them what to do, where to be, and how to behave. She gathers together her three friends Chelsea (Nathan Barrett), Dawn (Jenna Harris) and Rudeger (Tony Ofori) to join forces and stop the library closures. After all, they’re going to take the books away! Moss does a wonderful job on channeling her inner child, a role which could be exhausting, but she does it with aplomb. Barrett, Harris and Ofori get special mention for portraying three characters each. For the most part, they are distinct, though I did find Barrett’s characters bore a lot of similarity to each other. The play is a loud one, with lots of loud dialogue, but they are children after all. 

Review: pomme is french for apple (Fringe)

by Jessica Yen

Presented by Paul Watson Productions, this might be the funniest hour you see at the Fringe. Bahia Watson and Liza Paul have written several hilarious short vignettes that will have you yelling "AMEN!". It's a play about womanhood with all its peaks and perils, but that shouldn't deter men from seeing the show. The entire audience, men and women alike were howling with laughter. You could say the show is feminist, but Paul and Watson are so exuberant and playful that you never feel like you're being preached at. Watson and Paul are a delightful duo, they transform into many different characters, each one with brilliant physicality. I commend them on their clever use of pink circle scarves which had the audience in stitches. Along with short scenes there are also fun songs that you might catch yourself singing later in the day.  I can't wait to see where this show goes next. Go to this show, bring friends! 

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Review: Rare (Fringe)

Judith Thompson's Rarity

An event perhaps?

by Jason Booker

Curated by Canadian theatre legend, Judith Thompson, Rare assembles nine performers for an unusual show.  Instead of actors playing parts, these performers share their lives with the audience. Not in the way a one-person-show might co-opt the writer/performer’s life to tell a story though, for Rare is a show crafted by the performers and their director, Thompson, to share their experience living with Down’s Syndrome.  

The performers tell of their loves, be that favourite foods, feelings, family or friends.  Michael sings for the audience; Nada teaches phrases from her other languages; James percusses and plays the part of a tiger.  In one of the more tender moments, Dylan shares a song he wrote about acceptance; he recites the words, then assistant director and onstage musician Victoria Carr plays the song on her guitar as Suzanne dances.  The cast also tell of their frustrations and of their losses, which include a father to cancer and a brother to drugs.  Krystal pleads with women to not abort their pregnancies due to a Down's diagnosis, before Andreas expresses his thoughts at being called retarded (hint: he’s not happy).

Review: Speare - part 2 (Fringe)

by Emma Lee

Bear Productions has done something seemingly bold. They have taken their 7 allotted show times and split them between two parts of the same play: Speare part 1 and Speare part 2. Don’t worry; they give a recap at the beginning of part 2 so you are able to see it completely independently like I did. However, in hindsight I wish I could blame not knowing what was going on, on the problems with the show. Speare is a story that starts with a what if – as many good stories do. What if all the best Shakespeare characters met and embarked on one giant bloodlusty adventure together? Possibly a very interesting concept. Possibly, if every element of it were not completely amateur in its vision and execution. Let’s put aside for a moment the pseudo Shakespearean writing that features some of literature's most famous and beloved characters being poorly and inaccurately portrayed – don’t get me started on the idea that Iago and Edmund, two of the biggest badasses of literary history kowtow to a sea captain and Malvolio of all people – and focus on the fact that not one theatrical element from costumes, to props, to set, to lighting, could be labelled as anything but a bad high school production. Dressed in various shades of black with bad red sashes, plastic helmets, and a makeshift tunnel that you get to watch the actors struggle through time and time again, Speare delivers on the worst of Fringe possibilities, leaving the audience not only dissatisfied but scared as they promise a Speare part 3 to make it an unholy triumvirate. 

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Review: Crashland (Fringe)

by Emma Lee

Leonard Cohen wrote the following in his piece How To Speak Poetry: ‘Take the word butterfly. To use this word it is not necessary to make the voice weigh less than an ounce or equip it with small dusty wings….The word butterfly is not a real butterfly. There is the word and there is the butterfly. If you confuse these two items people have the right to laugh at you.” The creative team of Crashland would have done themselves a great service by reading these words and heeding their warning. The play, which is based on T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, promises to explore further the themes found in Eliot’s poem: global injustice, corruption of communication, infertility and the search for God. On paper, this is a great departure point that could lead to no end of moving theatrical experiences. However what is on the stage is far from what is on paper. An hour of actors trying to be the words instead of speaking the words is enough to undermine the most brilliant of scripts, and unfortunately Crashland is far from brilliant. It can be assumed going into something branding itself as Eliotesque that we are going to find a piece that is more poetry than dialogue, more emotional journey than narrative. What is needed for that to be a success is that the staging, acting, and words transport the audience to a place that conventional story telling cannot. Nothing even near the mark is present with Crashland. Sloppy movement, unclear relationship dynamics, the confusion of nudity and sexuality, and yelling (oh so much yelling) results in zero emotional transformation, and with no plot to hold onto, the play has crashed almost as soon as the lights have dimmed. 

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