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Skywriter
The Shop at Fort Fringe
Remaining performances: July 25 at 9 p.m.; July 26 at 4:45 p.m.
They say: Frank Fletcher has a tough job as a DC public school teacher. He also thinks he’s a superhero. When another teacher uncovers his secret identity, Fletcher weighs whether his alter ego is a force for good or [...]

Looking at the Fringe guide, I wondered how C.S. Lewis’ best known work could be condensed into 42 minutes. Well, the production was actually 30 minutes. And it felt long. But I’m about 15 years older than the target audience and I left my stunt children at home. With no ability to gauge the play’s success on my own, I inferred from the sporadic giggles behind me that the Adventure Theater production had achieved its goal: to entertain the kiddies.

Nothing else I’ve sampled at Fringe can touch IAHH’s the trifecta of lacerating wit, flawless delivery, and superb performances from the entire cast (Morogiello’s recurring Yeats was a highlight, as was Lori Boyd’s turn as Lady Gregory). You haven’t Fringed until you’ve seen Wilde clutch his chest at the sight of a “dark, rugged” jihadist bent over in prayer.

The Girls Inside
Bodega
Remaining Performances:
Jul 19th 12 pm
Jul 25th 3:15 pm
They say: You didn’t even know we existed. But now? Now. You do. A new play that tells the spirited stories of four ‘juvie’ girls living on the inside
Suzyn’s take: “The Girls Inside,” Leayne C. Freeman’s new play about teenage girls in juvie, is memorable and [...]

It’s easy to blame the playwright, and I do, but really someone in the cast should have said: “Hey, my character is a total cliché, and so is everyone else’s, and we all whine a lot, even interrupting a wedding to do so. And the daughter’s friends are the mother’s wedding attendants with no explanation. And Emily slaps Sean’s ass while the audience probably still thinks he’s her brother. And the “perfect boyfriend” kisses his way up Mom’s arm for no reason. And if we’re going to write a song full of Yo Momma jokes, shouldn’t we at least use funny ones?”

The idea of a fringe is to make a space for that which lies outside of the theatrical mainstream. This is exactly the sort of work for which the Capital Fringe Festival exists, and it puzzles the heck out of me that there seems to be no audience for this show, no choir for me to preach to.

In the 13 varied vignettes that wry writer Michael Merino has alertly assembled and ferried to Fringe after it’s appearance at Page-to-Stage, the uses, misuses, abuses, disabuses, ruses, muses, tenses and tensions of language and its rocky on-again off-again relationship with the truth are explored and exploded for our entertainment and edification.

Your grandmother’s armpits. The British Open. An assortment of mildly fragrant cheeses. All of these things are wilder than the West portrayed in The Real Adventures of Tom Mix.

Look, I’m not trying to get Fringe in trouble with the law, but I think I can finish my beer in 10 minutes. I mean, I made it through college. If Fringe is really concerned about the law, then change closing time at 12:45. But otherwise, let a guy drink his beer in peace.