Review: TORONTO FRINGE FESTIVAL 2026: REVIEW ROUNDUP 1 at Toronto Fringe

WAR DOG (Awe! Theatre)

Mike D. Smith’s WAR DOG is a very vulnerable autobiographical solo show dealing with his father’s military service and the impact it had on his treatment of his only son. Dealing with evolving concepts of masculinity and the pressure of constant motion as part of a military family, Smith ruminates on the impact of PTSD stemming from a “moral injury” rather than war service or abuse—being forced to actively go against one’s ethical code, or to stand back when action is warranted. In Smith’s case, the moral injuries involved the mistreatment of innocent animals, an extension of his theme of the relative powerlessness of childhood.

Smith’s grief over the irreparable rift between father and son and the small tragedies of household pets feels raw, yet there’s just enough shaping and deliberate tension release from Smith and director Janice Israeloff to keep WAR DOG feeling like a theatrical experience instead of a therapy session. When he describes his experiences with clarity and precise detail, the script comes alive, and his rough-edged but earnest performance is appealing. Slides from his past and sound cues are sometimes a little abrupt, but a welcome illustration of his story by designer Winnie Liao.

NOTE: The show reviewed was a preview.

Photo of Mike D. Smith by Zaboria

D.E.I. ANOTHER DAY (Hinprov)

Can the Mafia be improved by DEI initiatives? That’s the premise behind this dizzyingly silly comedy from Hinprov, a story-length sketch that somehow manages to mostly stay funny and fresh for an hour by reaching for new heights of absurdity. When a Mafia don is killed, his dying wish is for right-hand man “Two-Shots Tony” (a tough-talking Sachin Sharma) to locate the half-Italian, half-Indian son he never knew, and to install the new college graduate at the head of the organization.

Amit (Jeff Fernandes), who’s been tanking interviews with his pie-in-the-sky social justice dreams of changing the system and whose biggest achievement is ranking his classes by emotional safety, sees the offer as one he can’t refuse, as long as his new cohort will allow him to hire a diverse new base—yes, even women.

The best satire has an affection for its target, and the success of the show is that its script simultaneously makes fun of well-intentioned diversity initiatives, but also genuinely shows the value of incorporating diverse perspectives and experiences into the system, even if it leaves that system radically changed. However, at the same time, it’s really not that deep, with a lot of clever wordplay, such as a scene that involves multiple permutations of the word “broad,” or wacky prop comedy, such as a goon hat exchange or host of extremely fake weapons. There’s also a dash of Bollywood, particularly when Amit’s hardworking mother shows up (Gunjan is a standout as both the beleaguered “hot mom” and a host of other roles).

There are a few bumpy spots in filling the hour, and the romance arc between Amit and Farah (Shreya Parashar) could use either some additional laughs or emotional punch. But the team’s dedication to its premise is admirable, and once the almost-there pacing totally gels under Seann Murray’s (Sex T-Rex) direction, this one will be a true giggle-fest.

Photo of Hinprov by Danika Lange

BELLY BUTTON (Thera Theatre)

Things are about to get…umbilical. In Hemali Sankalya Ratnaweera’s BELLY BUTTON, we follow Q (Shriyanshi Quanoonga) from her rude expulsion from the comfort of amniotic fluid to her confusion as a young lesbian, wondering how she could have once shared a body with a mother who now seems to understand her so little. Part meditation on mothers and daughters, part commentary on identity, and part bid for community, the show is a unique look at the forces that shape our journey, such as birth, migration, and aging.

Ratnaweera’s poetic script is delivered by a chorus of sari-clad thoughts (Stephanie Bisram, Alexandra Martin, Trinity Lloyd, Nara Alexander, Reena Goze) that also act as Q’s guardians, dancing, providing internal commentary, or cringing when Q crashes yet again on her bike. They help braid the long trains of fabric that function as a symbolic umbilical cord, tying Q to her entrance into the world.

BELLY BUTTON has a surreal quality to it, but also a straightforward, humourous affect that keeps things feeling present. The chorus works well together to provide a range of feelings and commentary as Q chafes against her mother, dancing her through her emotions. Moments of creative puppetry also enliven the work. Quanoonga anchors the conceptual show with strong stage presence

The play’s last section, in which Q flees the conflict with her mother to enter into a sort of dreamscape with the famous painter Amrita Sher-Gil as a quasi-parental figure is thematically resonant, but also meanders a bit; the open-ended conclusion feels more like a lack of resolution and reluctance to revisit the powerful central relationship between mother and daughter. Overall, though, the show feels inventive and fresh in its exploration of an age-old conflict.

SUCH ADO! (This Duck Productions)

In the fine tradition of films like She’s the Man and 10 Things I Hate About You, SUCH ADO! modernizes, gender-bends, and queers Much Ado About Nothing in 90ish minutes, creating a thoroughly charming version of Shakespeare’s comedy with an added message that happiness lies in living one’s own truth instead of conforming to societal expectations.

Setting the story of reluctant, sharp-tongued lovers on a university campus, Emily Elizabeth (who also directs) replaces a squadron of soldiers with the school’s new, all-gender soccer team, the Roans, an initiative which has drawn both accolades and ire from the surrounding community. Soccer scholarship student Claudia (Keren Edelist) becomes enamoured of the university president’s daughter Hera (Naomi Morales), while her cousin, the witty Bea (Frances Loiselle) professes nothing but disdain for both love in general and soccer team captain Ben (Elise Bauman) in particular, whose nonbinary charm has snagged many a short campus fling.

It's impressive how well the transposition works, with Elizabeth managing to make points about the toxicity of the manosphere, the importance of queer advocacy, and the impact of class differences in an academic environment seem more natural and carefully considered than heavy-handed. It helps that the production is light and breezy, moving at a fast clip, from the energetic and bouncy soccer drills to efficient scene changes. Both pairs of lovers have chemistry, with things particularly sparking between Loiselle and Bauman. In the famous scenes where the quarrelsome pair get tricked into realizing their mutual love, both get a chance to show off their physical comedy skills, attempting to hide under ludicrously small objects as the “secret” is revealed.

Liam Kinahan nearly steals the show with his deadpan narcissism as villainous Jonathan (originally, Don John), emerging like a melancholic consumption victim from a pile of blankets to bemoan Hera’s rejection. The character actually works even better as a college-aged incel who won’t accept “lesbian” for an answer than as a full-fledged adult. The production’s slick costuming by Camila Farah includes an entire cast’s worth of personalized jerseys. Delightful.

Photo of Elise Bauman and Frances Loiselle by Barry McCluskey

THREE DESCENDING NOTES (The Long Sea Productions)

Probably one of the more innovatively designed shows you’ll see at the Fringe, THREE DESCENDING NOTES has a cast of many, but only one actor is live on stage. Behind a scrim but highlighted by Matt Hallworth’s effective lighting design, Odelia (Georgia Grant) sits on a pair of lovingly rendered subway seats (set by Kaiya Saravanja-Thomson) to ride the TTC, hearing its signature “three descending notes.” As the older woman pines for her youth, misses her stop, and gets lost, she interacts with projected “holograms” on screen, often in elaborate musical numbers by Rachael Cardiello. Vines grow around her, animals speak, and commuters become fantasy creatures.

The “descending notes” are also symbolic of Odelia’s state of mind; in the early stages of dementia, she’s dealing with hallucinatory episodes and memory loss. The experience for the audience is similarly very stream-of-consciousness, as Odelia tries to get home with her mind turning the mundane steps into moments on a quest. As Odelia, Grant is appealingly sardonic, and has a powerful voice. It’s fun to see her interact with the animations.

However, the show runs about 40 minutes instead of the promised hour, which makes it feel like some character development or plot was left on the cutting room floor. At the moment, the journey and purpose of the script by Robin North still feel incomplete, and since Odelia doesn’t really know where or who she is, the audience never finds this out either. We sympathize with her loss and confusion, but there’s a level of dreamlike remove preventing connection because we never fully get to know her or understand what she’s lost. While the fantasy sequences are creative, they’re less helpful from a narrative standpoint. Still, the unique conceit and ambitious design make a memorable impact.

(Promotional image of Georgia Grant provided by the company)

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