Posts Tagged ‘missing pages’
The Injured List: Fringe Casualties
Let’s face it, people. This is some full-contact theater, up in here. The Fringe muse can inspire, but she can also slap your ass around.
Yes, the venues are hot; we’ve all watched drops of persperation fly from performers’ noses every time they turn their heads, describing graceful, albeit funky, arcs over the footlights. Let’s just remember that as uncomfortable as you feel — sitting there in the dark, fanning yourself with your program like a pasha — the performers have it worse, by an order of magnitude. Or at least, once you factor in costumes, lights and physical exertion, by a good 10 degrees Farhenheit.
But that comes with the territory. Herewith, we honor those who’ve given their lives, or at least their ability to thumb-wrestle for a while, to Fringe.
Hip Shot: “Missing Pages”
Missing Pages
Fort Fringe – Redrum
Remaining Performances:
Sunday, July 19th at 6:45 p.m.; Thursday, July 23 at 5:30 p.m.; Saturday, July 25th at 4:30 p.m.; Sunday, July 26th at 2:15 p.m.
They say: “A World War II hero, his daughter and Vietnam veteran son confront the secrets that haunt and divide them. This powerful new drama, lightened with laughter, was inspired by the author’s father, whose war diary she discovered after his death.
Glen’s Take: ”Emerging” local playwright Susan Austin Roth is a well-known and highly successful writer of gardening books, so should you see other reviews of Missing Pages busting out a lot of cheap gardening puns, you’ll know why. Not here, though. No, faithful F and P reader, here you will find no references to grafting, cutting or pruning; that is my solemn vow.
A play that revolves around Alzheimer’s has a tough row to hoe.
Fringe Previews at RFD’s: Sex, Lies, and Duplicitous Robots from Space
Last night, 23 Fringe groups converged on a makeshift stage in the backroom of RFD’s for the fourth annual Fringe Previews. (Video, methinks, forthcoming.) The beer was abundant, the crowd somewhat rowdier and less attentive than last year’s, and the performances less…well, performative than declarative. That is to say: it was a lot more tell than show.
Not without its highlights, though, and certainly replete with the requisite Fringe-isms. Fake breasts? Check. Um, more fake breasts? Double-check. Duplicitous robots from space? Indeed. Desultory allusions to Beckett, Wilde, Shakespeare, et al. wielded with the weight of a French tickler? Duh.
Below the jump, a telegraphic rundown on last night’s 23 previews.
Deep breath!~ Here we go:
