Grabbing The Hammer Lane: A Trucker Narrative
Image credit: Micheal Derek Gatlin
Among the numerous performance venues on Granville Island, The NEST is a cozy one. Tucked away on the third floor, the modest square footage puts very little separation between the stage and audience. This factor works perfectly for a show like “Grabbing the Hammer Lane: A Trucker Narrative”.
Writer and performer David M. Proctor helms the one-man show, inviting his audience into an intimate, temporal journey of a frayed father-son relationship. The one-act play is a series of monologues with alternating points of view, representing the son Matt Cooke and the father Clarence Cooke Sr. We learn from Matt about his adventurous life as a long-haul truck driver. Through a series of chats with an invisible therapist, the prodigal son aims to unpack the baggage towards his adoptive family. Meanwhile the father recounts anecdotes that bolster his perspective on tough love and the frustrations borne from the consequent alienation with the son. The trucker son’s propensity to choose the speedy hammer lane clashes with the elder’s instinct to act with caution and restraint. Can they ever see eye to eye and reach a steady middle road? This question drives the hour long performance, pulling the audience along the twists and turns of exile and intergenerational longing.
The stage design is simple, with minimal props and moody colours. An invisible partition cleaves the stage into one half for Matt and the other for Cooke Sr. This juxtaposition is straddled with nuanced clarity by Proctor, who slides in and out of each character’s sleeves between each scene. The monologues are lively and brim with a range of compelling emotions. The last scene takes place at the center of the stage, where the diverging personas are brought together–a crescendo that drives right into the heart of the story.
“Grabbing the Hammer Lane: A Trucker Narrative” is sure to invoke a tenderness towards our loved ones that are sometimes tough to love.
Accidentally Heterosexual
Image credit: Wilson S. Wilson and Claire Kellam
Back in 2019, Kay decided to radically shift her life–she came out as trans. She explained her radical worldview to her parents and proudly declared that no, this was not a phase. Also a lesbian, she dated women, happily rejecting cis-heteronormative ways of being. If ever there was such a thing as “very queer, so gay–that can’t be outdone”, this was it. Kay fell hopelessly in love with the person of her dreams–a queer person who was also on a journey of their own. As it turns out, Kay’s partner came out as a trans man. Since then, Kay and her partner have discovered much joy in a domestic coupledom with patterns that possess eerie echoes of a heteronormative life that Kay originally sought to run away from.
While this premise forms the foundation of “Accidentally Heterosexual”, the hour long stand-up comedy show delves into musings on society, gender roles and embracing queer joy in absolutely mundane, everyday situations like watching instructional videos on the right way to load a dishwasher. Personal anecdotes are delivered with excellent comic timing. Yet, there are segments in the show that feel rambly, a tad didactic. Given that Kay’s comedic reputation is noteworthy, the show falls a little short of my expectations.
I like Fringe for the variety of shows and the breadth of talent that it promotes. It is also an ideal sandbox for artistic experimentation, sometimes in not so extraordinary ways. “Accidentally Heterosexual” is one such show that feels like an artisan sourdough bread, yet to rise to its potential best.
Communion
Image credit: Emma Jenkins, Tin Raganit
Two friends in a small town, trying to pursue dreams (big and small), catch up with each other in a living room. A premise that seems so simple, yet “Communion” manages to take us on a ride of highs and lows without dropping a beat.
Co-written by the lead cast and real life friends, Marlee and Martine, “Communion” is a delightfully absurd portrayal of mundane, yet defining moments that occur over a typical hangout of two best friends. The play also features a live band that gets involved with the two-person cast in rather unexpected ways. The story shies away from the religious definition of the title, instead highlighting the camaraderie and deep sense of safety to be aspired with hearty pals.
While most plays are plot-driven, this one is very vibes-centric. The barebones script is brought to life with break-out body movement and dance sequences that flow seamlessly, thanks to the tunes belted out by Liam Wilkins on drums, Matt on saxophone and Ricardo Hardy on the bass. The music anchors the emotions of the BFF duo, at times drowning out their dialogue, at other times playfully uplifting their wholesome chemistry. The non-linear progression, atypical dialogue structure and eccentric movements seem to have benefitted from the artistic clarity of director Adonis Critter King.
“Communion” has all the elements of feel-good theater: a cozy set, a relatable theme, rib-tickling banter, unexpected inner explorations and whimsical live music that ties it all up–making it the perfect option for a platonic date with your bestie(s).
Generational Welts
Image credit: TIỆM NÀNG THƠ Studio
“Generational Welts” is a one-woman drama that unpacks the familial wounds inherited by writer and protagonist Megan Leung, a first gen Chinese Canadian, who was born and raised to be a “flexible bamboo” in the cold, harsh winds of Edmonton.
The hour-long show traverses across time and continents to unravel her family’s tribulations that shaped Meghan’s badass, mother-Phonging matriarchs. In the first act, she impersonates her mother Mai, a Chinese immigrant in Vietnam, who was forced to eventually seek refuge in Canada. With a dark sense of humor, Mai lends context to her authoritarian outlook on survival and child-rearing. In the next act, the protagonist Megan plays herself. She narrates anecdotes and analogies to explain how she weathered through the early years of her life to become a perfection-seeking, rest-averse, anxiety-ridden mess. The last act offers catharsis, as Megan shares vulnerable insights on her ongoing journey of self-discovery. The entire show is peppered with Megan’s eccentric sense of humor, making the audience laugh and sometimes cringe in delight.
There is a projector that complements the storytelling in charming ways. It offers ripe moments for crowd karaoke as Megan spoofs American pop songs to encapsulate her cultural trauma. The lighting design follows the theme of a traffic signal (which also informs a central analogy in the show), with flickering lights and shadows that bolster the narrative mood. The focus of the show, ultimately, is the protagonist herself. So, the minimal props and lack of background music work in favor of centering the narrator.
Megan’s story tackles maternal wounds with a healthy dose of dad jokes. “Generational Welts” is for those who love dark humor and coming-of-age sagas that capture the mood of diasporic youth, whose chronic anxieties have been shaped by late-stage capitalism and complex cultural trauma.
Luminarium
Image credit: Mikah Sharkey
“Luminarium” welcomes its audiences to an open stage with curios. There are copper coloured boxy units, an aluminium trash can, a forlorn steel table and an empty projection screen. Potted plants and creepers decorate the dreary objects, emulating a post-apocalyptic industrial wasteland. It appears that we are inside an energy generation unit that has succumbed to disrepair. Solarpunk, AF.
The show begins. Two affable men in fashionable workers’ suits enter the stage with burly gear. They survey the disaster zone and soon discover trinkets with magical lights. They have been tasked to investigate the ruins and repair the plant. Over the next hour of synchronized juggling, object manipulation and miming, we witness a lively circus, replete with LED lights, funky music and magical plants that offer tools for solving the energy crisis. Performers Chris Murdoch and Yuki Ueda, from Cause and Effect Circus, are masters of physical storytelling. They embody a childlike spirit and transform mundane objects into whimsical toys. Marvellous lighting design infuses an ethereal life into their dextrous antics. Projection graphics aid the narration elegantly by offering expansive views of how the actions of the performers transform the industrial wasteland.
Over the course of the curious renovation effort, the audience gasps and cheers with child-like curiosity and wonder. The power of playful exploration and the need to reorient our relationship with everyday objects (including life-giving plants) beams as the overarching message that lingers long after the set comes undone. Without any hesitation, “Luminarium” is my favorite pick at this year’s Vancouver Fringe.
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-Shruthi Budnar