Check ‘em out here—some nice snapshots from the Audience Awards and subsequent revelry.

Fringefolk,

Sure, we’ve seen a fair bit of theater, sweated buckets in some overheated venues, learned to turn hangovers into inspiration, and covered 88 shows so far (make that 100 after tomorrow!). No big deal, right? But we can’t be everywhere at all times—just ask this individual—so we rely on you all to keep us honest.

Let us know what you’re loving, what you’re loathing, and what we’ve missed. Our ears, and this blog, are yours.

*That old-school engraving above? William Hogarth’s “Lame theater.” We think it’s neat.

Hopelessly Devoted

Remaining performances: Thurs., July 23 at 9:30 p.m.; Fri., July 24 at 9:45 p.m.; Sat., July 25 at 2 p.m.; Sun., July 26 at 3 p.m.

They say: Chicago Improvisers/Catholics Vincent Lacey and Natalie Sullivan offer up scenes, songs and secret confessions of being devout fish in a sea of pessimism. Bursting with guilt…err…love Christ, Hopelessly Devoted is a comedy even Saint Peter couldn’t deny.

Ted’s take: “In the unlikely event of the Rapture,” Natalie Sullivan advises the audience at the opening of Hopelessly Devoted, “please pray for your own sins before praying for those around you.”

The chance of rapture here? As advertised, unlikely. The chance of mild amusement courtesy of two talented comedians? Much higher.

Sullivan and Vincent Lacey, two funnypeople of the unrepentant Catholic persuasion, have mounted a pleasant diversion over at the Goethe Institut, a zany, ADD-style compendium of sketches, one-liners, a song or two, and even a borderline-charming hip-hop number about the Church of the Blessed Sacrament, which is hemorrhaging believers and whose few remaining parishioners call it the “Church of the Blessed Sack.” There’s a lot of biography going on here, too: Lacey adapts winning character sketches of his reluctantly devout father and of his dean at Catholic University. Sullivan, meanwhile, steals one of the shows’ more uncomfortable scenes, in which she remains the confirmation sponsor of the ex-boyfriend she convinced to convert, even after dumping him. True story! So, yes: not your run-of-the-mill Christian lampoonery here; this is been-there, still-there, ain’t-never-recanted Christian lampoonery.

Sullivan and Lacey seem to know they’re not really slaughtering sacred cows here, even among references to “Jesus Motherfucking Christ” and songs like “I’m a Conscientious Masturbator.” These strokes are meant more to endear than to shock, which is a welcome strain in High Church-needling humor. What isn’t apparent is why, except for the performers’ shared faith-based experience, these two are lending their estimable skills to what remains a potshot-based revue. A lot of these jokes have been uttered more times than the “Hail Mary,” and whether the comedian’s Jewish or Jesuit, they tend to come out sorta formulaic. It might clear things up if the material reconciled their parodies with their pieties.

See it if: Sister Act never struck you as juuuuuust a little bit hokey.

Skip it if: You think to yourself, “Yep, Eddie Izzard probably hit that first.”

The Escapades of Farty Johnson

Remaining performances:
July 23 at 6 p.m.
July 25 at 2:30 p.m.

They say: A physical comedy gestation!!! Join Harold P. Johnson, esq. (aka Farty J.) on a messy, manic, dreamy, hilarious dancin’ romp that may land you SPLATT! inside the soft spot in your heart. Door Prize: Can O’Beans.

Ted’s take: Patricia Krauss has found the perfect venue for her one-woman “physical comedy gestation,” in which the irrepressible Tooty Johnson—a metaphysically unmoored character played with the halting muggery of a Dana Carvey—sweats her way through an audition that never happens. Let’s do the math: It’s a 1.) self-referential piece of character acting that 2.) engages the question of how a terminally weird, delusional thespian goes about the agony of self-promotion without 3.) much of a gameplan but with 4.) a mystical reverence for the transmogrifying possibilities of the proscenium. Really, then, this is a show about the fringe (and the people who live there)—if not about Fringe itself.

It also, sad to tell, sports many of the classic Fringe pitfalls: spotty timing; an intermittent lack of discipline; and promising physical comedy that, in the absence of a better organizing principle, serves as its own message. Still, surprisingly touching moments shine through, including a soliloquy from Magnolia, a canine puppet who calls herself Tooty Johnson’s “fairy bitch mother” and observes that while everyone needs divine intervention, some—the Tooties of the world—need it more than others. Elsewhere, the noted direttore Federico Fartellini (complete with hook-nosed Commedia dell’arte mask) appears, and after confusing Tooty (the lady) with Così fan tutte (the opera), decides that perhaps he should give her a shot.

Two weeks ago, in a short capsule on this show’s sneak-preview, I praised Tooty’s dance, “an offbeat quadrille that somehow communicates deep sadness while keeping the audience in stitches. Can it sustain over the full 45 minutes?” The answer’s no; but I also think it could be something of a triumph, if Krauss pared down the monotonous quirk and fleshed out Tooty’s character. As is, we’re looking at a gestation indeed—from a gifted performer who’s perhaps a bit more gifted in the filigree department than in the concept department.

See it if: You’ve ever wanted to see a Beckett short performed by Garth from Wayne’s World.

Skip it if: You agree with Tooty that “waiting can be boring“—even when you’re waiting in the company of an affable contortionist.

Remaining performances:
Saturday, July 18 at 2:45 p.m.; Sunday, July 19 at 6:45 p.m.

They say: A rollicking band of pirates thwart the efforts of bumbling policemen to win over the daughters of a modern major-general. Back for their third summer at the Fringe, this group of very talented youth, directed by Pamela Leighton-Bilik, must not be missed.

Ted’s take: My, what fun.

Good clean fun, of course—no Fringe-y deconstructionism or naughty bits grafted on or any of that: just an eerily precocious flock of varying ages and heights, all of ‘em with superior stage presence and fine pipes. Also: no shortage of tricorner hats. These folks aren’t just competent, mind you—they really sell lines like “When your process of extermination begins, let our deaths be as swift and painless as you can conveniently make them.” (Even if, you know, they flub the occasional “i’faith.”)

Bolstered by the ensemble’s magnanimous efforts, Matt Sartucci and Kelsey McDonnell deliver standout performances as the Pirate King and Mabel, respectively. The latter’s sylph-like stage presence and willowy precision in her descants bear special note–here’s a rising high-school junior with serious comedy chops who can sing circles around many of her older counterparts elsewhere at Fringe. Jordan Alexander Li also turns in a delightfully saucy Major General—but someone get this guy a fake mustache!

OK, OK, so the police scenes were maybe underdirected—that deadpan jig makes its point pretty quick, fellas—and abridgement-wise, I’d rather have lost portions of the overlong “Climbing Over Rocky Mountain” in favor of, say, some neglected verses from “I Am a Pirate King!” But let’s not digress. The point here is the comedy (which the performers are enjoying at least as much as you are), and the lil’ flourishes—as when, before their climactic raid, the pirates produce their assorted weaponry: badminton racquets, toilet brushes…you know, the usual. Superb.

See it if: You dig G&S, or you couldn’t find a babysitter.

Skip it if: You like your patter songs faster than (oh, I dunno) 100 beats per minute.

We figure it can be pretty hard to keep all these shows straight. To make it easy on ya, we’ve created this page—a comprehensive rundown on all the shows we’ve covered. (We know…it’s a lot to handle.) Make sure to check back, as we’ll be updating this list every day to provide you with that stress-free, feel-good Fringe experience you’ve been dreaming about. Enjoy!

• 2 Shorts in Black and White: Count Dracula’s Cafe
• 2 shows: PLANT PSYCHIC/DISORDER
• 4.48 Psychosis
• The A Cappella Party
• A.D.
• All That Was Left of Them
• Bad Hamlet
• Bag Lady
• Bare Breasted Women Swordfighting
• Beyond Dark Corners
• Billy the Kid: First Exhumation
• Born of a Fairytale
• Cabaret Carousel
• Cabaret CooCoo
• Closet Land
• Concord, Virginia
• Cover Me in Humanness
• Dancing to Ancient Rhythms
• Deconstructing the Myth of the Booty
• The Devil’s Christmas Carol
• Diamond Dead (Continued…)
• Dorks on the Loose: Facey Facey Face Face
• Dust of Babylon
• The Elephant Man, the Musical
• The Escapades of Farty Johnson

• The Fall of the House of Usher
• FICTITIOUS The Musical
• The Fifth Musketeer
• Four Dogs and a Bone
• Freak Show
• The Girls Inside
• The Girl Who Waters the Basil and the Inquisitive Prince
• Goodbye Love, Goodbye Joy, Hello Travis McElroy
• GS-14
• Headscarf and the Angry Bitch
• Home Free
• Hopelessly Devoted
• How to Eat an Elephant
• Immoral Combat
• Irish Authors Held Hostage
• Is There Anybody Out There?
• It’s Not Easy Being Green
• Jack the Ticket-Ripper
• Jamaica Farewell
• Late Bloomers and Glory Days
• Leave a Tone After the Message!!!
• Let’s Sing Gospel 101!
• Life in Death: An Opera Electronica
• Life Inside an Open Kaije
• Lila: The Love Story of Radha and Krishna
• Lincoln and God
• The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
• Lipstick Handgun
• The Lost Ones
• Magnum Opus
• May 39th/40th
• Missing Pages
• Murth
• My Fabulous Sex Life
• Not Your Granny’s Revolution
• Peace Warriors
• Pebble-and-Cart Cycle: one-line tragedies
• Pepe! The Mail Order Monkey Musical
• The Pirates of Penzance
• Please Listen: A Musical Chaos
• The Quick Brown Fox Jumped Over the Lazy Dogs
• The Real Adventures of Tom Mix
• Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
• Sari to Skin
• She Moved Through the Fair
• The Sin Show
• Skywriter
• So Do You Love Me Yet?
• South-Asian American Dance
• Thou Shall Not Kill
• The Rise of General Arthur
• The Saints
• Self-Service
• Sex, Dreams, and Self-Control
• Slow News Day
• Soup!
• A Tactile Dinner
• The Teacher’s Lounge or One Child Left Behind
• The Terrorism of Everyday Life
• They Call Me Mr. Fry
• This Is NOT My Life
• Uncorseted
• Vincent

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Slow News Day

Remaining performances:
July 15 at 9:30 .m.; July 17 at 7:45 p.m.; July 26 at 1:30 p.m.

They say: Politics? The Economy? Global Warming? Not so much. This news crew specializes in made-up stories and behind-the-scenes shennanigans. Slow News Day brings you the news as you see it—improvised based on your suggestions.

Ted’s take: Reviewing an improv show is less like critiquing theater and more like covering the Mets: You can report what happened, discuss the homers and the bobbles, &c., but there’s no guarantee that what you saw on one day will have any relation to what’ll happen the following. I say this not only because Slow News Day (structured as a triptych of on-air reports, behind-the-scenes buffoonery, and commercial interludes), is bound to vary wildly from one night to the next, but also because it’s a lot like watching the Mets—intermittently worthy, and just as uneven.

The gist: you write the headlines; anchorpeople Ryan Gillis and Pamela Nash deliver ‘em; reporter-in-the-field Min Cho reports from, um, the field; and editorial troublemaker Seaton Smith presents screeds against Maryland Drivers, cupcakes, and his own substance-abuse problems. Meanwhile, all is not lollipops and dandelions backstage, as a well-meaning but corrosive intern (J.W. Crump) accidentally torches Pam’s car, and Ashley Whitehurst does her damnedest to help co-intern Katie Dufresne snag a full-time reporting job. The producer, meanwhile, lingers in the production box, his disembodied voice hilariously mistaken, time and again, for that of God. All of the above, of course, touted as extemporaneous, original schtickage.

Here, I suspect, there’s a bit of corner-cutting going on: some of the best tropes smack of having been rehearsed, as when Gillis—gleefully, muggingly—struggles to slip his undersize jacket onto his oversize frame before the cameras go live. Gillis has a number of equally funny, and more improvisatory, triumphs, but the truest ex tempore chops reside with Crump, Dufresne, and Whitehurst, a trio known elsewhere as TV-MA. The commercials enacted by these three (today’s: prescription soup; kitten potty-training toilet seats; chocolate toothpaste) are among the show’s highlights; likewise their foible-laden camaraderie as the news show’s pissant interns.

It bears noting that this is a tremendously ambitious undertaking. Many more seasoned improvvers restrict their shows to short-form “games,” rather than attempting extended, character- and plot-based invention. Which perhaps speaks to the main difficulty here—that the cast is forced to focus more on the motivic unities than on the jokes. And the jokes, folks, should be sacrosanct.

See it if: You’ve always wished that SNL’s “Weekend Update” went on for, oh, say, an hour and change.

Skip it if: You’ve little patience for repeated quips about Maryland drivers and “drugs.”

Remaining performances: July 11 at 8 p.m.; July 16 at 6 p.m.; July 17 at 8 p.m.; Jul 25 at 4 p.m.

They say: “Classy acts! Captivating Characters! Hosted by Guitar Prodigy Scooter Undercroft, Featuring Izzy and Diz Aster Singing Cheery Songs of the Great Depression, Nicolo the Juggling Accordionist, the Amazing Illusionist Catastrafi, Hotsy-Totsy Dancing Cigarette Girls, the Melodious Pit band, and surprise(d) guests!”

Ted’s take: More clowning reality-reprieve from the resident masters of vintage slapstick.

This year, M.C. Scooter Undercroft welcomes you to the Cabaret CooCoo, which—as the project’s name and pedigree surely attest—is an utterly bonkers evening’s worth of dysfunctional, downmarket cabaret, magical malaprop, and period pasticherie set to a very fetching incidental soundtrack courtesy of accordions, ukuleles, and at least one harmonic saw. The “Hotsy Totsy Dancing Girls” (pronounced “goils”) are also present, but the Flying Zamboni Brothers are not—which sends Scooter AWOL and leaves the rest of the cast scrambling in the service of a show-within-a-show that…well, must go on.

Happenstance, here, is playing to its strengths—vaudevillian funny business isn’t exactly an artistic leap for a group that, as far as Cap Fringe is concerned, has practically cornered the market on the stuff. Which is not to say the performances aren’t versatile: This is an extended family of gifted physical comics, and whether dancing, singing, miming, preaching, mumbling, or staring vacantly at the audience, they execute with equal aplomb. Anchored by the dual charisma of Mark Jaster and Sabrina Mandell—here, Izzy and Diz Aster, respectively—Happenstance mines the physical idioms of Marceau, Chaplin, and Harpo Marx to produce a show about how art—even and especially disastrous (make that Diz Aster-ous), wildly loopy, fourth-wall-busting art—offers its audience a reprieve from the economic doldrums.

That the latter is the full extent of the concept makes Cabaret CooCoo a slender thing—Jaster, Mandell, et al. are applying their virtuosity to a project so light it’s almost airborne. Last year’s Manifesto! demonstrated that Happenstance is best when retrofitting its elegant mummery onto haut concepts—or whittling those concepts down to more clownlike proportions, as the case may be. In comparison, Cabaret comes off a bit like “Her Majesty”after the dizzying suite on the second side of Abbey Road: Charming, but with the whiff of an afterthought.

Or perhaps it’s better to consider that very lightness a sort of guiding motif: as Jaster demonstrates in his moving, gradually hilarious evocation of the Gershwins’ “Summertime” on the musical saw, dysfunction, and the comedy of the Little Man, can evince pathos and hilarity out of all proportion with the work. “In tenui labor; at tenuis non gloria,” as the old fella once said: The work is in miniature; not so the fame.

See it if: You’ve a yen for an artistically satisfying variety-show send-up…or you feel that after seeing a particularly gruesome Lear down the street, you deserve a good belly-laugh or two.

Skip it if: Your appreciation of the whole vaudeville schtick begins and ends with Lili von Schtupp.

Name:

[Are you an artist? A producer? A distant relative who'd like to spot me a fiver? Come find me! I'll be the dude lurking under the Gypsy Tent at Fort Fringe. See above for gruesome City Paper headshot.]