Dawn’s Reviews - FringeMTL 2026
1 Small Lie: Martin Dockery
Stepping into the rain after catching Martin Dockery’s 1 Small Lie, I said: “that's how you do a one man show”. Behind me, a couple is also discussing the show, and I hear “every moment was perfect”.
You know the meetings that could be emails? This show could be a whole movie.
Let's start from the beginning.
The stage is set with lamps, and only lamps, including a hanging paper lamp that feels like the moon before it's even on. I mean, you don't hang just one and it's not the moon. But none of that matters in the long run.
Martin Dockery takes the stage in jeans, a faded T-shirt, and a worn-in trucker hat with the brim heavily curved. It's how they did it in the 90s (back in myyyy day), and I immediately recognize his Gen X status. He's got Ethan Hawke vibes, charismatic while not trying to sell you anything, just sharing a story, sit awhile and listen.
The story is fantastic, and the telling even better. Dockery is compelling, playing with the rhythm of his well crafted words, never missing a beat. He is comfortable in silences, which are few, but in which we sit rapt, awaiting his next move. He is physical, and present; his performance is natural and intimate, as if one night a group of friends asked him to tell them that story one more time.
The synopsis summed the plot up as “a family man robs a thief of a ton of money”, and it's definitely about that, but there's more to it. Dockery describes the cast of characters so vividly that you can almost see them join him on stage. The city of Montauk takes a leading role as the pandemic changes Dockery's path, and he and his family transplant themselves there temporarily from the big city. The family is strained, the scenery is verdant, and a deer has been hit by a car…
The lights are used with good effect throughout the performance, controlled by Dockery himself. They change colours -- in unison, or creating a palette -- but it's always so smooth that it feels natural too. The tone changes, or the ever twisting tale takes a turn, and the visual mood changes too. Also changing is the soundtrack, which is integral to the performance. It's a quiet guide, taking the spotlight at times, but seemingly inextricable from the story even when it faded to the back of my attention. To make matters more impressive, the soundtrack is one full musical piece running 58 and one half minutes, ergo Dockery had to stay perfectly timed throughout. Chef's kiss.
I would read this if he wrote the book, and watch it as a movie. I look forward to seeing what he does next, but right now, you should go see 1 Small Lie.
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Clown Seeking Clown
I've never seen a show at CtrlLab, and Clown Seeking Clown sounds like a great way to start, so I show up early (as always), and with proverbial bells on (as often). The doors didn't open until 7 minutes before the show, which threw me off as someone who likes to explore and get comfy, but it's opening night, and mounting a show in a new-to-you venue (writer and star Nat Habib is here from Ottawa), has to be nerve wracking.
Still, I managed not to spend any money at the street sale as I waited, made some chit chat with others in line, and soon enough, the doors popped open. Up a narrow staircase (21 stairs) into the small gallery cum performance space, I snag a seat tucked away by myself in the back. A quick count, and I estimate the room seats about 30, and the turnout is good. All I see on stage before the show starts is a screen. And that will become a problem: there are more things on stage, but there isn't a raised stage, and sightlines will be a persistent problem. The chairs weren't offset enough, meaning we each sat directly behind each other, straining to see. At times the audience swayed in counterpoint, trying to see around each other, and from my vantage it looked like we were swaying to music, which was fun, but impractical. For a lot of the show, Nat Habib was a floating head, and anytime she sat or reached down, she was entirely invisible. Even the screen was too low, so the video aspect of the show didn't have the impact it deserved.
The show itself was good. As a self-proclaimed candy punk, I enjoy the aesthetics of clowns -- the contrast, the mismatch -- and while I did enjoy that here, in a lot of ways Habib comes across as less Loonette from Big Comfy Couch, and more pastel goth. Her character, Macaroni, is shy, self-conscious, and introspective, not what you'd expect from a clown, but it serves the story. See, in this world, being a clown is genetic, and she's never dated a clown. She's always dated the Noseless and the Serious Billies (as they call us), and been subject to their assumptions of, and ignorance about, clowns. Now she's looking for clown love. With that in mind, her timid delivery and (super!) fun facts about scary airports makes sense: she is who she is despite the expectations the makeup might trigger.
There's a quiet vulnerability in wearing her heart on her face while her personality flies a different flag, a reminder that we're all multifaceted, deserving of love, and can't be taken at face value alone.
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Time Travel Not Guaranteed
It's the perfect weather for Fringing, especially since I always arrive early. In the winter it's a hassle, but days like this, it affords the perfect excuse to sit in the grass, in a sunbeam, watching the Plateau people be Plateau people. And that's exactly what I did before catching the opening night of Time Travel Not Guaranteed.
I'm making a point of paying attention to venue accessibility, and am glad to note the ramp up to the front door of the Conservatoire de musique et d'art dramatique de Montréal. Inside, I immediately remember the layout of the building, and I'm sure the show will be upstairs, because frankly, I've never seen a show on the ground level of this spot. Luckily, I remember that the bathrooms are on the main floor before I take the stairs. So very many stairs. It turns out, there is an elevator, but I only realize it after the climb. Kudos to me though, because it's frankly too humid to be exerting myself in these cheap velvet pants, and I did it without breaking a sweat. Admittedly, I was already sweating.
Thankfully, the theatre itself is crisp and cool. Walking in, a woman greets us, saying “Welcome to the laboratory”. Caught off guard, I reply “welcome”, before realizing that's not how that works.
The stage is set with a whiteboard, clocks, and beakers, all the appropriately sciencey things. Oh, and a plant we will later learn is named Gertrude. Oh, and also a time machine, imposing, and center stage.
The synopsis explains that while trying to build a time machine, The Professor accidentally made a cloning machine, and now they have to hide the whole caboodle (including clones) from the Government (dun dun duuuunnnn).
This play is hilarious. The cast was impeccable, with each person playing their role perfectly. As an ensemble, their comedic timing and choreography felt natural even when it was obvious they'd worked their asses off to make it look spontaneous. Extra kudos to Dominique Gagnon as The Professor; not only was she the lynchpin that held the story together, but her performance -- from intonation to facial expressions to pratfalls -- was a master class.
Stylistically, it reminded me of 80s sitcoms and sarcastic cartoons. It leans into its own goofiness without taking itself seriously, which is a rare feat. It was perfectly self-aware corniness, with sound effects, music drops, and lighting changes that served it seamlessly. As with all good sitcoms and cartoons, they made space for philosophical contemplation and poignant moments between the laughs.
And man, were there laughs! There was one young child in the audience, and his laughter rang out among the adults, proving this one works for all ages.
What else did it have? Without giving anything away, it had a double agent, puppets, and a fight scene reminiscent of the Barbie movie’s Ken vs Ken scene. And did I mention a plant named Gertrude?
Considering all the moving parts, it's definitely one of the most ambitious Fringe shows I've ever seen, and certainly the best executed. This is a comedic sci-fi romp you should definitely see.
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Theatrical Treasure Hunt
The Theatrical Treasure Hunt by Zendat Games calls for teams of two to five people, so my boyfriend and I went on an adventure! The crowds turned out, and the vibes were impeccable at the MURAL / St. Lau Street Fest, as we made our way to the meetup spot. Over the various DJs and the din of all the joyful noise, we heard Fringe Park before we saw it, and walked into a killer drag show with a rightly enthused crowd.
This is a genuine treasure hunt: we won't be sitting in a theatre, we’ll be solving puzzles and traipsing through the Plateau for about 2 hours and 3 kilometers.
We were handed pages of puzzles including instructions and a map, a pencil, and a copy of the Fringe program. Winning isn't about beating the other teams, it's all about getting this bad boy solved in 120 minutes. Time to crack these codes!
Leaving the first location, someone from another team playfully tried to look at our answer, and we all had a good laugh. At the third location, well, we’d still be stuck there if we hadn't heard another team have a genius idea. Time is ticking, and every moment we aren't hacking these hints, we are hustling from stop to stop.
It's at this event that I learned my boyfriend is good at more puzzle formats than I knew, and that he's pretty competitive, so he's trying to get us to the finish line first. And thank heavens for him, because some of these puzzles broke my brain. (We were told an eight year old managed to solve the whole thing, and kudos to that kid, cuz he's obviously a genius).
While my ticket was provided, it's worth noting that it's the highest ticket price I've ever seen for a Fringe show. As we went, I started thinking about the level of planning needed, and also the costs they avoided with this format. What I know for sure is that while a big team is probably harder to rally through the streets, five heads are probably much better than two, and certainly drops the price if you all pitch in. And what can a group do for that price and this much fun in the Plateau in the summer? Not much, to be honest.
The last stop had us baffled for a bit as we searched for the Theatre Queen. I even took a picture of myself in a mirror just in case I was the Queen all along. (Hadn't the drag queens just closed a song by saying we don't need a hero, we were the hero after all?) A kind tip got us back on track, and we finished, not first, but certainly not last, in an hour and a half.
Over the course of that time we said things like “this is so much fun!”, “that puzzle was diabolical”, and “it's like the Amazing Race, but cooler”. This was truly a unique and super fun experience, one I hope keeps coming back to the festival.
