What’s a wrap party without karaoke? Unfortunately, we’ll never know. But thanks anyway to Playbill Cafe for the loan of their insanely extensive singalong setup. (Has anybody ever karaoked “Ina-Gadda-Da-Vida”? Or “Eve of Destruction”? Why?) And to RnR Bar & Lounge for hosting the festivities.

Here’s a medley of brave Fringe performers, fans, and friends doing their best, one assumes, to keep the party hearty. Apologies to Emily (pictured), who actually turned in a stunning American Idol-worthy performance of Aretha’s “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman.” But someone—still looking to assign blame—didn’t turn on the microphone.

Now, name that tune…

OK, so it’s afternoon. But for some of us, that’s like morning. Especially the day after Fringe.

Can’t write at length, ’cause I’m busy chasing bits and pieces to make a nice Ingmar Bergman page. But I did want to say hi, if only to respond to Curious, who can’t seem to get enough of Fringe, or of Fringe & Purge:

So did people go to the closing party? See any great shows on saturday or sunday? I’d love to hear some of the final headcounts/numbers from the Fringe organizers.

Well, Curious:

1). Yes, people did go to the closing party. There was much karaoke, much of it quite thoroughly wretched. There were some awards presentations, none of which were in the least bit audible. But I’ll get the details from Julianne later.

2). I quite liked Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind, and the Pabst and Popcorn Faustus. But again, those have been much discussed, so I’m not going to say much more.

3). Final headcounts and other numbers will be forthcoming, but not today. Firstly, I’m not sure they’re available yet. Secondly, I’ve been told rather firmly not to call Julianne today, for reasons I’m sure you can understand. Or maybe you can’t — but I’m still not gonna call her.

I will, however, check in with her later this week, and get back to y’all with some final Fringe thoughts. Meantime, feel free to chime in here with your own Fringe post-mortems. What did you like about the way it worked this time around? What left you cold? Will you miss the Warehouse?

Go ahead and cheer, jeer, or whatever — and I’ll try to work as much of it into my conversation with Julianne as possible.

Saw this priceless sign in the window at the Warehouse.

Now, for those of you who don’t remember as far back as last weekend, when Nelson’s review ran in the WashPo, the whole quote was:

“… lured an audience in with the promise of nude puppets but stupefied patrons with its ineptitude. Go if you like awkward silence.”

Heh. Guess the luring continues.

So, we’re almost done.  How’re you holding up?

Some of us were officially done by last night. (Didn’t stop us from commenting — and reviewing — which makes me giggle.)

At this point, I’m catching up on stuff others have  recommended (or not) — Too Much Light at 1 o’clock, then the 3 o’clock of The Drunkard, which I’ll be writing up for next week’s paper.  May try to get back over to Fringe Central for the 7:15 of that Hamlet thingy I mentioned yesterday.

Meanwhile, I’m also curious about the ‘Future of Fringe’ panel, at 5 o’clock at the Atlas — but obviously I’m not gonna make that, ’cause I gather Drunkard is longish. So, somebody take notes, eh?  And report back?

This one’s from the boyfriend — I was being tempted by the devil (and the Pabst) …

The Tell-Tale Heart and the Mind of Poe
The Scientarium

Remaining Performances:
Sunday, July 29, 6 pm

They say: “An exciting environmental theatre piece which incorporates live percussion and ambient sound in the telling of some of Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous stories and poems. Enter into ‘the mind of Poe’ as The Endstation Theatre Company of Central Virginia takes you on a thrilling theatrical journey.”

Keith’s take: Sometimes it’s more effective — more menacing, more threatening — to be quiet than it is to be loud. Look, for example, at some of the creepiest performances from actors who have burned themselves into our collective consciousness as guys you don’t want to run into on a country road at night: Jack Nicholson, Anthony Hopkins, Christopher Walken (well, OK, not in his latest outing, but in some of his more menacing roles).

As a piece of environmental theater, which is how it’s being publicized, Tell-Tale Heart is completely successful. Indeed, if you didn’t know that CapFringe’s show-venue pairing process involved a certain amount of randomness, it would be tempting to think that the performance space in the Scientarium was specifically built to create the world of this play, protecting the audience from the inmates — er, the performers. The space is even aptly named: Scientarium/Sanitarium … And the performers — particularly when they’re cowering silently in corners, crannies, and cupboards, or when they crouch wordlessly obsessed with their own thoughts or ticks — create an atmosphere that might very well be like the one where Poe’s protagonists would have ended up.

The problem comes with the delivery of Poe’s texts themselves. Perhaps in an effort to illustrate the author’s progression toward madness, each tale starts with some intensity and builds pretty quickly to a fevered pitch, resulting in a fairly shallow arc for each. Likewise, the percussive effects — whether being produced by actual or improvised instruments, or by the banging of cupboard doors — would be more effective if used with more moderation and modulation. The upper end of the energy and volume spectrums are covered, but the company doesn’t seem interested in what might emerge if the lower and more contained ranges were explored. I’m guessing, given that it’s a pretty uniform problem, that it’s less a lack of ability than a perplexing directorial choice.

See it if: You have an affinity for Poe and want to see some of his texts exuberantly performed in an appropriate environment.

Skip it if: You’re bored (or annoyed) by sustained car chases, shouting matches, or continually slamming doors and noise.

P.S. According to IMDb, Christopher Walken has read “The Raven” for an audio book. I’ll be looking for that.

… I took Glen’s advice and checked out the pirate queen, who was in fact pretty good; I’m off in a minute to see Queen of the Bohemian Dream, because I think Bobby Smith is one of the craftier musical-comedy guys in town; and after that I think I’m gonna do either Chocolate Jesus or One in Two.

If I hold up, that is.
Other things I’ve seen but haven’t written about:

• Cordelia’s Fool, which was charming and smart, if a little slight (like somebody said in one of the open threads, I think, I wanted a little more commentary on the play, in addition to the playful Cliffs Notes); she’s done, but she’s appearing this weekend in The Trojan Women.

• A White House Tale, which begins hopefully but ends up being about as dire and awkward as you’d expect a politically themed improv based on A Christmas Carol to be (except for Elizabeth Jernigan, who out-acted everybody else even when her head was covered by that scary Reagan mask)

• Our Love is Empty, vigorous dance piece intercut with some video bits, one of which is a hilariously deadpan thing involving Elvis’ “Love Me Tender,” a red felt-tip and a pair of tighty-whities (Keith may write something later today, ‘cuz he’s got the dance-writer vocab that I don’t)

And one thing I just realized I wanna see: Hamlet? That is the Question, whose promotional blurb makes the show sound off-puttingly wacky, and didn’t clue me in that it’s being done by a group whose work I really liked last year — Leslie Felbain and her Infinite Stage troupe. (They put on Site-Seeing — see the video interview from last year.)

Five Guys … Yes, with fries… Yum.

But I have a feeling I’m gonna regret it later…

Glen again:

Love & War: with the Bard’s Broads and Dames
Touchstone Gallery

Remaining Performance:
Saturday, July 28 @ 9:00pm

They say: “Two movements inspired by people inspired by Shakespeare’s inspiring women (for better or worse). ‘Women speak two languages - one of which is verbal.’ Movement and language create a delightful, dark duel for the Bard’s ladies entrenched in war. Love prevails as Juliet answers letters with comic and touching effect.”

Glen’s take: Read the above blurb again. Okay? Got it? Notice how the individual sentences more or less make sense, but when you read them together, things go all feathery ’round the edges? That, bound in a Shakespearean nutshell, is Love & War. The first half’s a series of 10 scenes from Shakespeare in which wives, mothers, daughters and Weird Sisters discuss men and war. The second, more successful half imagines an assortment of star-cross’d lovers writing to Juliet Capulet for advice on how to successfully resolve affairs of the heart. (Which seems a bit like asking Lucrezia Borgia for her caponata recipe, but let that go.)

For War/Piece, the Shakespeare-on-shuffle opener, four actresses share the stage, but Hilary Kacser (also the producer) does most of the talking. Kacser declaims with skill, but gives every line near-equal emphasis; the resulting flatness of tone doesn’t help her sell the emotions behind the words she enunciates so crisply. You lose the through-line, the guiding principle that ostensibly links these speeches, and the performance skirts dangerously close to recitation. She does leaven her final monologue (from Taming of the Shrew) with welcome irony — which mostly serves to make you wonder why she waited so long.

The Juliet Project, the Capulet-as-agony-aunt closer, feels undercooked in that familiarly Fringey, pink-in-the-thematic-middle sort of way. But it does allow other actors to step up (especially Jennifer Crooks and Jordan Boughrum, who make the most of the opportunity), and it boasts some dense, clever writing that deserves to get unpacked someday.

See it if: When you read the title War/Piece just now, you chuckled.

Skip it if: When you read the title War/Piece just now, you thought of a really annoying grad student you dated once.

Ladies and Gentlemen, once again, Mr. Glen Weldon …

A Most Notorious Woman
Woolly Mammoth Theatre’s Melton Rehearsal Hall

Remaining performance:
Saturday, July 28, 3 pm

They say: “Rebellion! Romance! Pirates! A Most Notorious Woman reveals the true story of Grace O’Malley, the 16th century Pirate Queen of Ireland. Her thirst for adventure led to the sea, and eventual battle against the encroaching forces of England. Ask yourself, “Where do you go when your world becomes too small?””

Glen’s take: The real thing. Rachel Manteuffel tells the story of Irish pirate Grace O’Malley while radiating intelligence, humor and flat-out charm like so much Strontium-90. If Strontium-90 had a sly smile and a flawless brogue. She switches from one character to another with startling ease and knows exactly what to do once she gets there — her bitchy Queen Elizabeth, for example, can speak encyclopedic volumes simply by clearing her throat.

Another thing about those transitions: There’s something ruthlessly efficient about each one of ‘em that’s deeply satisfying. Viz: With a simple shrug of Manteuffel’s shoulders, her jacket slides down her arms to become the shackles she’ll wear in the following scene. Tiny, well-thought-out moments like that abound. Maggie Cronin’s script is smart, if a bit discursive, and it gives the audience credit for being smart too.

One performance left. Saturday afternoon at 3:00.

See it if: The phrase “biographical one-woman show” has become inextricably linked, in your mind, to the phrase “please God make it stop.”

Skip it if: You prefer pirates who sound like Keith Richard to those who sound like Sinead O’Connor.

My Way Little Girl
Warehouse Arts - In the Alley

Remaining Performances:
Friday, July 27 @ Midnight (Warehouse Arts)
Saturday, July 28 @ 10:00pm (Warehouse Arts)

They say: “Controversy surrounds this installation experiment. Through imagery of stereotypical iconic pop-symbols the piece depicts sex education, its boundaries, sexual taboos, and eventual consequences as perpetuated by contradictions in the advertising world versus the political sphere. Conceived, directed, choreographed by Andrew Zox.”

Trey’s take: Whoa, now: Why are the five ladies in the fishnets and furs lounging so provocatively on the hay bales? What exactly does the latex-gloved, white-coated gent have in mind? Why ’s that guy with the eyepatch wearing a plaid sofa cushion like it’s armor? And what is that man playing on the banjo?

I jest — though all of those things are in fact happening. What I mean to say is: My Way Little Girl is the first seriously Fringewhack show I’ve seen. I watched it with precisely 8 other people sitting on a tarp in the alley beside the Warehouse, with Zox running the sound from a PowerBook six feet behind me. The night before, apparently, they did it for like 200 people on the Kennedy Center’s free-to-all-comers Millennium Stage — which I would actually have paid to see.

It’s about much the same stuff, as it happens, as Super Glossy (see below): It’s about how we teach women what they’re supposed to be, and teach them to be ashamed of what they are. It’s about the codifying of femininity, the commodification of beauty, the pathologizing of sexuality and childbirth — and while it doesn’t have much terribly revelatory to offer on those topics, it’s communicating what it does have to say pretty clearly. And stylishly: The stage pictures are striking, the movement carefully designed, and the cast utterly committed. It totally rang my bell.

See it if: You’re looking for a nice wordless movement-based something that ain’t a solo confessional — or if you’re just feeling adventurous.

Skip it if: You ain’t sittin’ in an alley for no damn pinko feminist-leaning actor-boy and his wussy bleeding-heart girl apologia.