Labrador
Four Stars
How
about this as a setup for an hour of unremitting hell?
A Vancouver actor in a travelling children's theatre troupe recounts his winter tour to Labrador City on a stage dressed with four cushions and a chair. At Acacia Hall yet, freemasonry's revenge against the uninitiated.
Ah, but then you haven't been treated to a monologue by TJ Dawe, who blew last year's Fringe apart with Tired Clichés and continues to impress with his latest vehicle, which again stops at an agreeable, occasionally truly poetic intersection of the best of stand-up and one-man-showdom.
Like any sensible biped, he tells us that he can't stand actors talking about themselves and then proceeds to do just that. He begins Seinfeld-esque - you have the feeling that Dawe is much brighter and nearly as funny - with riffs on how people always lie at funerals and the great imponderables of life: why is the sky blue, laugh tracks, the sensory capabilities of canines, et al.
Then we move into the tour, which involves a sort of homecoming to his father's Newfie roots and grandfather's early days in Lab City - in this telling (Dawe comes clean at the end) a collection of "army bunkers buried in the snow." It's cold - 30 below, with lodgings at the Two Seasons Inn and a "Lord of the Rings" pub filled with dangerous tree-stump men and a screech ritual for newcomers.
It's funny, affecting stuff. There are some poignant moments, and you sense Dawe has more to say without losing his edge and sense of humour. For now, this works just fine, and underlines just how vapid and limp so many stand-up and/or comic one person acts are these days. A real talent, here.
Alan Kellogg
Edmonton Journal
Saturday, August 19, 2000
