The dope on TJ Dawe
Vancouver comic's Labrador tales highlight comedy entries at the Fringe
Labrador. The name does not immediately conjure up visions of a good time. Seal clubbing, yes (and to some that is a good time), but no one is ever going to think, "Instant laughs, get me Penny Marshall on the phone" the minute someone utters those three Maritime syllables. That's all going to change tonight (July 6) when 25-year-old Vancouver-based comedian TJ Dawe opens his one-man show, Labrador, at the Robert Gill Theatre. It is the must-see show of this year's Fringe Festival.
Dawe's best previous work was the clever and engaging 1999 solo effort Tired Clichés. Not bad for a writer and performer with a name that would fit nicely into a Garth Brooks lyric or any movie about trucking. "The play sprung out of a trip I took out East to see my dad's side of the family," Dawe says. "I found this show."
Labrador is one of many comedies playing at the festival this year and, like many Fringe shows, it is ferociously minimalist -- no set, only two lighting cues (lights on, lights off). Dawe starts the show by stepping into a single spotlight. There he remains for the next 50 minutes as he weaves and bobs through the script's various tangents.
While the look may be streamlined, the show's content is rich and layered. In this respect, Labrador is a reflection of one of Dawe's great inspirations -- marijuana. The herb played a key role in the creation of the piece and is even present as a subject. "I prefer dope over drink," says Dawe. "That's how I began performing. I'd smoke at a party and 20 minutes later I'd be up on my feet telling a story to everyone there." It is precisely this casual -- well, let's face it -- mind-expanded state that makes Dawe such a likeable, compelling performer.
Dawe also has an ingrown aptitude for narrative. He doesn't do characters or impressions; he's a pure raconteur. Dawe traces this strength to his Catholic upbringing. His parents met in their late 20s. Mom was a nun and dad was a Catholic brother. They fell in love and left their callings, but remained devout, passing their religion on to their three children.
Comedians who come from traditional religious backgrounds tend to prefer story-telling comedy. They get strong narrative (the Bible) driven into them from a very young age. From this training emerges a love of story. And so in the '60s you get George Carlin (a good Catholic boy) spinning seductive comic yarns about life, liberty and the pursuit of seven words you can't say on television.
Like Carlin, Dawe wraps his narrative in a seemingly mundane cover. He begins Labrador, for example, by cajoling an audience member into eating a banana ("I need the peel"). Dawe then riffs on a myriad of topics, ranging from bad one-man shows to the fact that Newfoundlanders say "yeah" while inhaling.
Fans of stand-up might be tempted to stick Dawe with the observational label. But a Seinfeld Mini-Me Dawe is not. "I don't play stand-up clubs and I am most influenced by prose," says Dawe. "I like writers who can take a banal event or character and make it fascinating. Writers like Charles Bukowski, Raymond Carver and Stephen Leacock." Bukowski and Leacock both mentioned in the same breath -- the statement kind of answers the obvious question surrounding TJ's artistic process.
"Yes," Dawe says. "I still do smoke a lot of dope."
Andrew Clark
The Eye
July 7, 2000
