The Toronto Theatre Review: 3 Shows in a Day at the Toronto Fringe
By Ross
Little did I know that my one and only day at the Toronto Fringe Festival would be so filled to overflowing with therapeutic constructs, both obvious and somewhat there underneath, that it didn’t exactly feel like a day off for this full-time psychotherapist (who side hustles as a theatre reviewer). The first show was the obvious one, titled Jack Goes to Therapy. It’s as straightforward as can be, but it’s also a brilliantly constructed and thoroughly engaging one-person show, written and performed by Zac Williams (Blockhead), that connects and unpacks ideas around heartbreak and loss. It revels in its therapeutic connection, and uses it wisely and solidly throughout, without going overboard. Little did I know that the second show, aptly titled Puzzles, created by Joanne John (*four whores and a pro*), would start inside a therapy session, with an unseen therapist giving interventions, both wise and focused, to a young woman struggling with her own demons around grief, loss, and guilt. The third show, Mathew’s Big Broadway Bash, created and performed by Mathew Mac Lean, is the one underneath, as it is its own type of self-care therapy, wrapped up in the act of singing Broadway tunes boldly to create and bring joy and love into his heart and ours.
So with a quick, side nod to Mathew’s Big Broadway Bash and some lyrics we all engaged with in his show, “let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start“. And that would be my first Toronto Fringe Festival show on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in early July at the Alumnae Theatre Mainspace. Dynamically written with humor and heart by the very appealing Zac Williams, Jack Goes to Therapy cleverly (and semi-autobiographically) delves deep inside our collective emotional soul via the funny bone and an unbandaged broken heart. Taking us on a fascinating and engaging Uber ride from pain and sadness to the flowering of enlightenment and connectivity, our unsung hero in this “(somewhat) romantic story” first appears nervously unpacking his heartbreak trauma with an unseen nurse walking him through the responsible act of STI testing. It’s a hilariously well-crafted interaction with a matter-of-fact nurse, as she and he take us through the paces, swabbing here and peeing there, while delivering anxious framings of sadness and pain about his recently broken heart. The nurse continually tries to get him back on the same testing track that she is on, only to have him veer off into other avenues of thought and processing, explaining, most nervously, that his boyfriend left him for the man they had a ‘spice-it-up’ threesome with. It’s the funniest and saddest of stories, one that he can’t quite seem to move past from, no matter how many quick hookups he ushers into his bed as he desperately tries to not be the “sad, lonely, undateable guy” that he is afraid he already has become. Finally, at long last, she tells him what she thinks, and what he seemingly needs to hear: “That sounds like a question for a therapist.”
With that ‘right as rain’ remark, a journey begins, one that Williams delivers in a surprisingly deep and emotionally connecting kind of way, through humor and cathartic honesty, bringing tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat, all the while laughing alongside him in his desperate search to become unstuck. There is truth and pain in the dialogue and the way he delivers his tale, even inside his self-deprecating tone and shame. The truth sneaks up and finds its connecting triggers inside us all, as we find ourselves laughing at his quick shifts and sidesteps into all the different arenas that many gay men find themselves trying to deal with. Or hide from.
This act of therapeutic self-discovery, guided most wisely by an unseen therapist (saying some pretty smart on-track things), addresses the hurt and aloneness he feels. But also, his own internalized homophobia, and isolating fear of truly being seen by those around him. “I just thought you were a nosy bitch,” is one of many statements that sums it all up, both hilariously and honestly. Vulnerability, it turns out, is the perfect tonic to toxic masculinity and internalized shame. And as we join Jack, who is spiraling in thoughts and desires that still revolve around a relationship that ended months ago, we learn, as he does, a lot about grief and how to sit with what we are going through, no matter how sad or disturbing it might feel.
It’s a well-thought-out therapeutic/theatrical session filled with insight and clarity, and as directed wisely by Byron Laviolette (Pucking Fuppet’s The Family Crow…), this 60-minute, critically acclaimed Edinburgh Fringe hit of a play lovingly explores Jack’s journey as he navigates through therapy and his life after a breakup. “All I want to do is go backwards,” he tells his newly discovered therapist with brutal, stuck honesty (if only all my patients were so forth-coming…), but what Jack Goes to Therapy ends up describing and teaching, like the good kindergarten teacher he is, is a different, more connecting pathway to mending a broken heart. Described most wonderfully by the energetic and animated Williams, feeling and sitting with the heartbreak, and sharing his true self with those around him, is the way to get unstuck and on the pathway to a better understanding of his lovable self. That is the true, beautiful gift this wonderfully honest show delivers to us all, and the therapist inside me couldn’t have said it better.
The second show, Puzzles, also being presented at the same Alumnae Theatre Mainspace, begins deep inside a therapy session, with our young, troubled central character, Gwen, who has been trying her best to protect herself from emotional pain by escaping her own head using drugs and distance. Written by Joanne John, Gwen, played fiercely by Andrea Holstein, at first resists the therapeutic interventions, while also somewhat hearing the ideas set out before her. Eventually, it moves her into action with the insecure hope of resolution and reconnection with a mother (Anna Tharyan) whom she has systematically been avoiding for years. The nervous attempt feels honest and painful all at the same time, as we see and engage with the pieces of a puzzle unpacked. In an act of full-on bravery and resilience, she returns home to try to reconnect with her dismissive mother (and her new husband) to try to understand and remember more about her younger sister’s mysterious disappearance, a tragedy that she continues to blame herself for. The unresolved grief and self-blame are etched inside each part of this story of reconciliation, both inside her heart and the slow remembering of this tragic moment that brought so much heartache to the whole family.
As directed by Lisa Meuser and starring Anna Tharyan, Andrea Holstein, and Rob Scavone, Puzzles dutifully unpacks the unwanted memories and unspoken details of an event that rocked Gwen’s family apart, scattering the pieces of this familial puzzle across the country. Set inside a long-estranged family reunion, Gwen works with all her might to put the pieces back together. She wants to remember that tragic day, in hopes that she may find some peace from the complex trauma that haunts her and her mother still. But her mother doesn’t want the intervention suggested by Gwen’s therapist. She sharply refuses to go back in time to that day and that memory, as the pain and the anger she feels towards her surviving daughter are too great and disturbing for her to revisit. Her mother wants to remain where she is, living in a self-contained box of denial and distance, much like her surviving daughter, but through a different avenue of defense and avoidance.
Puzzles is a gripping family drama that feels like it’s on the verge of finding its full and true emotional potential. As we watch Gwen push forward in earnest towards resolution, this complex portrait of grief and guilt wobbles a bit in its complicated emotional unpacking and storytelling, with moments, including the ending, that need a more focused, edited, and structured point of view. At times, the combative and connecting momentum is either too slow or too fast, but the journey of self-awareness towards a familial place of healing has all the right solid pieces needed to craft a more humane structure and a more focused final framing. The last words spoken don’t really do the rest of the play justice, leaving us a bit too haphazardly in generic and bland descriptions, when we were leaning in for something more emotionally healing. Yet, the overall impact remains fascinating and heartfelt, speaking directly to the painful act of healing and the importance of connection and resolution.
My last show of the day, Mathew’s Big Broadway Bash, lovingly curated by Mathew Mac Lean, is as therapeutic as anything one can imagine from an entertaining cabaret act of self-acceptance and joy, as well as a gift of love to all those who have accepted this sweetly given invitation to attend at the Heliconian Club in Yorkville. Mac Lean has amassed a whole heap of musical theatre songs, with a few sing-along numbers to spice things up, as he tries his best to create “a chance to laugh, sing, and just have fun together again.” He engagingly tells us intimate stories of his youth, as he ushers us into his own adult version of a youngster’s effervescent, colorful, and engaging theme party. Overflowing with well-sung Broadway songs with big Broadway energy from Mac Lean, his Big Broadway Bash is a festive slice of tasty birthday cake that is sweetly constructed and filled with spontaneous moments of loving engagement and connection, including a dance break by the talented Jada Prato, their vibrant choreographer, and a surprise guest that pops up to sing us a song, mainly because of the infectious spirit of the show has given her the courage to step forward.
Mac Lean is the sweetest of hosts, gloriously singing songs that fit his birthday party theme that let us engage with his awkward pre-teen self, while also allowing us to reconnect a little with our own almost-forgotten pre-teen insecurities and shyness. In a way, it’s his own brand of self-love and therapeutic intervention, finding joyful inclusion inside some Broadway tunes that make us feel the pleasure of inclusion and acceptance, while also giving us all a chance to sing a few well-known songs (even if our voices are not as powerful as Mac Lean’s). Mathew’s Big Broadway Bash is an innocently joyful romp, lovingly sung by an engaging and strongly voiced host who knows how to have a good time. And it was also the loveliest way to wrap up my one and only day at the Toronto Fringe, before running off for ten days of dog sitting in the picturesque Niagara-on-the-Lake. Luckily, I’ll have the Shaw Festival to entertain me while I’m there. Still, I’ll have to wait for the Hamilton Fringe Festival in late July to delve back into some more therapeutic fringe fun and festivities to get me through the summer in the finest of emotional forms.
