Review: TORONTO FRINGE FESTIVAL REVIEW ROUNDUP 3 at Toronto Fringe

PEDRO THE PENGUIN (Participatory Players)

Can a penguin ever learn to fly? Pedro (Jaiden French) has big dreams that, so far, haven’t come to fruition in flight. In this KidsFringe show by Philip Diamond, he’s banished from a circus for embellishing his resume and sent to the North Pole (yes, north, not south), where he learns of an exciting opportunity to replace one of Santa’s reindeer. If you like your Christmas in July, PEDRO THE PENGUIN delivers a slick, well-paced story about believing in yourself, with a Shrek-like ironic-yet-earnest tone.

Under Sue Miner’s direction, the cast rarely lets the pace falter in creating a winter wonderland full of holiday buskers, cafes, and excitable news reporters chronicling the big contest. Pedro’s biggest competition is the preening cheater Richard the Reindeer (also Diamond, excellent at playing the heel), clad in sportswear with a bouncy tail, and his biggest cheerleaders are the earnest Slushy the Snowman (Dale Rideout) and the sweet Pippa the Puffin (Chrisevina Tsoura). The show’s clever design, particularly its costumes, helps to create a recognizable and detailed world.

As a character, Pedro falls a bit flat when he should soar—we know very little about him, other than that he dreams of doing something that seems physiologically impossible, and he comes off as either sullen or irritable much of the time. More attention to his personality would help us understand why we’re rooting for him, beyond that his opponent is a jerk and he’s the under-penguin. Sometimes, too, Diamond adds one or two rapid-fire jokes too many, particularly in a bizarre reveal near the end, instead of letting the audience savour a genuine moment. But kids will enjoy seeing Pedro find his confidence in a candy cane world.

Photo of Dale Rideout and Jaiden French by David Vassos

1920’s WALKING AROUND IN A DREAM (Unspoken Theatre)

To parse this madcap show’s somewhat mystifying title, think this: What if Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream were only an hour, set in 1920s Chicago, and was also a musical? If that sounds like a lot to take on, it is. Natalie Kaye’s musical Midsummer is ambitious but uneven, featuring too much reliance on 1920’s slang as characterization, but with a central section that shows promise—there’s hope for these foolish mortals yet.

The show leaves a rocky first impression. Its opening section is by far its weakest, where the slang comes thick and fast, the lack of amplification shows most keenly, and the winking and mugging to the audience is almost criminal. But when the musical finally reaches the forest, it gains purpose and momentum.

While the origin of the magical Prohibition-era liquor (in place of Puck’s magic flower) is somewhat unclear, and the Mechanicals and fairies are excised, the relationships between the core four lovers are well drawn. Daytoni Raye’s champion boxer Dimitry is assured and charming yet endearingly dopey, Ari Crooks’ Helen is neurotic but capable, Gareth Finnigan’s Andy is earnest and silly, sprawling and flailing in his eagerness to run away with his lover, and Kimberly Van Vo as spunky Hermie has the tough-gal patter down pat—it’s easy to believe that she could take anyone down.

Using “new lyrics to public domain songs” from era-appropriate artists like Jerome Kern, Cole Porter, and Fats Waller, the musical numbers are often quite cute—one character calls his love “as fair as a steak in a Frigidaire”—but occasionally feel anachronistic, with words like “deoxyribonucleotide.” Costumes by Nina Kaye put us squarely in a world of gangsters and flappers, and while Declan Meagher’s direction doesn’t clear everything up, the choreography is pleasant.

Just give that opening the bum’s rush, would ya?

Photo of Tom Beattie, Fabiana Mercurio, Daytoni Raye, Josh Welsh, Gareth Finnigan, Ari Crooks, and Kimberly Van Vo by Declan Meagher

OLIVIA O: THE MUSICAL (Olivia O Musical)

A very earnest and topical show about the internment of asylum seekers to the United States and forced family separation, OLIVIA O, the 2026 Adams Prize winner for musical theatre by Diane Currie Sam and Jessica Carmona, is full of soulful anthems about freedom, standing together, and our responsibility to each other as human beings. While the music (by Gil Yaron and Angela Ortiz) of its best songs is memorable enough to stick in your head for days, an uneven production and some serious narrative flaws hamper this elaborate and heartfelt work.

Olivia Ortiz (Valeria Aceves) is 14 when she and her mother are separated at the US-Mexican border. Her only hope is that her American aunt Isabel (Ceci Nicoli) finds her before her new foster father, TV pastor Bill Collins (Cooper McCrory), sells her into domestic service in El Paso. Aceves and Nicoli deliver solid performances with soaring vocals, making us sympathize with Olivia’s winsome heart and Isabel’s determination. With some cast members, a lack of amplification is an issue, including a secondary character who speaks so quickly and quietly that it’s hard to understand scenes in which he’s present. Director Carmona and choreographer Maria Muñoz are at their best when creating stage pictures of a bustling cityscape, though props sometimes prove cumbersome for the cast.

OLIVIA O would probably benefit from a longer, two-act structure to fully explore some of the more complex issues on display. Its plot currently hinges on what feels like a deus ex machina discovery provided by an offstage character, which makes its heroes’ efforts seem less meaningful, and its need for a tidy resolution for all ignores the real power dynamics and injustices in the system in favour of positing that, if we just showed those pesky ICE agents the right evidence, they’d imprison the real bad people instead and let the innocents go free.

Photo of Lexi Nieto, Roel Garza, Erica Erives, Daniel Hernandez, Samantha Padilla, Ursula Villarreal, Clint Gilbert, and Eric Garcia from the SheDFW Fesival

A CONVERSATION WITH MYSELF (Michael Sachter Projects)

If you had time to stop and reflect on your regrets, desires, and hopes, what would they be, and how would that time of reflection change you? That’s the premise behind photographer Michael Sachter’s art installation, A CONVERSATION WITH MYSELF, which he’s turned into a site-specific show at B Street Arts Hub.

Sachter took a stark photo of a chair, and in installations starting in 2018, used three versions of it in different colours to line the inside of a contemplation pod. Patrons were invited to sit inside and think about their answers to prompts like “I wish” and “I will.” After exhibiting the work in several locations over the course of a year, he gleaned over 800 responses, many of which he uses to create a kind of spoken-word poetry performance. Irena Huljak, Jajube Mandiela, Kaitlin Condie, and N.L. Lee embody the people who have come through the installation, from wide-eyed children to elderly ruminators, content couples to people in crisis, comfortable urbanites to the unhoused looking for a respite.

The ensemble does nice work quickly creating distinct yet anonymous characters and transitioning between them. However, the show itself could use more shape, beyond these monologues that come from comments left at the site—the short monologues are interesting, but perhaps not in themselves enough to sustain the hour. The playwright also refers to the installation in a self-congratulatory tone that can be a little grating.

The experience is billed as interactive, but there’s actually very little audience participation; before the show starts, audience members each fill out a card with an answer to the same prompts posed by the installation. The actors later incorporate these responses into the play, attaching them to Damon Bradley Jang’s set and reading them out. In practice, this means that we’re not interacting after the play begins, and our reflection takes place before the play can have an impact on it.

More of an installation than a play, A CONVERSATION WITH MYSELF is a tender window into the hopes and dreams of Torontonians that could be a clearer conversation.

Photo of the cast of A CONVERSATION WITH MYSELF provided by the company

ALIYA KANANI: A COMEDIAN’S GUIDE TO ENLIGHTENMENT (Spoon Fulla Sugar)

Fringe stalwart Aliya Kanani, known for successful standup shows like Where You From, From?, has gotten into life coaching…well, sort of. Kanani’s spiral into bitterness after [*gestures at everything going on in the world*] forced her to take a long look at the issues that divide us and what actually makes life worth living. Now, she has some advice for us all.

Kanani’s engaging performance has her easily winning over audience members through mild interaction, whether it’s finding out what commonalities they share or taking a poll by show of hands on relatable (and sometimes embarrassing) topics. No matter what you might reveal about yourself by raising a hand, however, Kanani will offer even more vulnerable revelations in kind, particularly a hilarious, protracted segment about the thorough spiritual and physical cleansing she received at an ashram in India (you will never look at clarified butter the same way again. Ghee whiz).

While things lag a little in the portion of the evening featuring more general advice, the show finishes strong with stories of people Kanani has met on her journey who turned out to be kind, generous, and friendly despite their differences. Even the most cynical hearts will melt a little, like the aforementioned butter.

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