From the Montreal Fringe. Triptych and Felix: Self-indulgent plots and lack of strong directing lead to two very bad shows

Triptych

Two performers have imagined a show that lays bare the relationship between art and artist, represented through the metaphor of a blossoming relationship between a young man, who represents the soul of a work of art, and the artist. The play attempts to portray, in three sequences, the stages of relationship with one’s art: first love, then artistic obsession, and then death by way of overindulgence.

Guido Luciani and Dash Barber employ ritualistic elements to, perhaps, signify some element of devotion or sanctity relating to art. There is a palpable homoerotic tension throughout, as Luciano sinks into obsession with his nymph. They lean into established, often cliché “art theatre” imagery; undressing on stage to stand behind warped panels that mask their bodies (though actually not quite). The performance attempts to be densely symbolic, deeply meaningful, and exploratory in nature.

But this play more Tommy Wiseau (and his self-glorifying pet project, The Room) than it is Bertolucci. Any potential meaning is destroyed through a poorly rehearsed, mechanically broken performance. More often than not, the actors struggle or stumble through lines, miss cues,  and experience costume mishaps. What’s more, the performers so struggled with their performance that Barbef broke character, laughed and mumbled a glib reaction to a missed cue. It is quite simply not ready to be staged.

Luciani’s Absolute Theater must go back to the drawing room on this one, and I can only in good faith advise you to steer clear.

Felix

Moving into a new apartment in Montreal, Victoria  (Amalea Ruffett) is shocked to learn she has an unexpected roommate: she has moved in with a poltergeist named Felix (Nicholas LePage) whose role in life is to be slightly unnerving. It’s the unconventional kind of haunting wherein you might find your light bulbs have been slightly loosened from their sockets, or your guests might find mermaid porn and Hitler biographies on your bookshelves. Writer and director Martin Law’s comedic show blends clowning, medieval morality plays, Dante’s Divine Comedy, and pure silliness to deliver a story about Satan and her cast of demon-slaves.

The play is definitely unrestrained in its subject matter. A bouffant-like poltergeist named Dunderfuck (Maïza Dubhé), for instance, takes “inappropriate” to a whole new level, humping anything within arms reach.  However, though this enthusiastic cast of student-actors try very hard to make their audience laugh, the text does not give them much to work with. Ultimately, the play comes across as banal.

Clowning is very challenging and is usually born of rigorous training. Without strong direction, the student cast struggles with staging this unlikely group of poltergeist clowns. Unfortunately,  this is precisely where this production falls short. It is prone to shrill, unpolished sequences that are more grating than comedic. It is the type of production that feels more like an elaborate inside joke (one that the audience has no chance of following) than comedy.