Pamela’s Reviews - FringeMTL 2026
Surprise!
Café Campus is a great performance venue, nightclub, and general gathering place with a long history in Montréal’s nightlife. The second-floor theatre features club seating at round tables, a bar at the back open for business, and an impressive stage, lighting, and sound system that could accommodate anything Fringe creators might need to throw at it.
The space is reached by a flight of stairs, but if wheelchair access is required it is suggested you call ahead. They have a service elevator that can be commandeered for the job if they receive a request.
A cool vibe was struck with a little upbeat jazz and light rock standards as the audience filtered in. The stage set: a few pieces of minimalist living room furniture. Black curtains and a black floor with red and grey balloons scattered about. A large gift bag topped with a shiny bow sits on the coffee table. The scene is flooded in purple light.
Enter Mike, a likeable, bright, but lonely guy played with humour and heart by Xavier Tolentino. Despite his potential for success, Mike has not had much luck lately in either business or romance. More than a little motivated to rectify his situation, he seeks out a couple of somewhat dubious solutions which lead him to his long estranged friend, Craig.
The friendship had formed when the two tech bros met at college with expectations of promising futures in Silicon Valley. But as Mike’s luck trickled away, Craig’s exploded. Several start-ups and promotions later, he is now lead designer at a major AI company.
Despite many years of no contact, Mike decides to drop in on Craig, who is enjoying a low-key celebration of his 42nd birthday. A couple of Craig’s friends are present as well, one of whom is his new girlfriend, and it is with them along for the ride that we see the gradual unwrapping of the events that caused Mike and Craig’s falling out.
Taking the role of Craig is Vance Gillis. The fact that he also wrote the play, and directs it, explains how he inhabits the character so completely. There is subtlety in his portrayal of a man who has it all yet can’t stop proving it and searching for validation (“I don’t HAVE to get over it! I’m THE MAN now!”). Craig’s bravado is a thin veneer, easily scratched by the antagonistic Mike. In fact, the two characters are perfect foils who bring out the laughable childishness in one another.
Mention must be made of the other cast members: Olivia Peet as Craig’s girlfriend, Taryn, and Colin Nash as Craig’s “Other Mike” friend – both of them bizarrely funny as they push in from the sidelines of the dynamic between Craig and Mike #1.
Sehar Manji is wonderful as the voiceover of Amy, an AI program. I noticed how flexible her voice could be, bringing either human warmth or computerized flatness according to the situation.
This is a funny, clever production with many laugh-out-loud lines, and a fantastic plot twist. The secret premise of Surprise! would make a great comedic series. Get on that, Mojo Comedy Co. and Vance Gillis – Netflix needs you!
Until then - everybody should make a point of seeing Surprise! at the Montréal Fringe Festival.
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The Precursors
The Precursors is presented in the lower level of Santa Cruz Mission on Rue Rachel West, accessible by stairs only. I was thankful for the air conditioning operating at its peak on this hot, muggy afternoon, heading into a 75-minute play.
As the audience entered, the players were already in place on the floor-level stage: three figures sprawled in natural sleeping poses on the ground of a campsite fitted out with a tent, a tree, and a few logs. A couple of coolers, some cooking utensils, thermoses, and backpacks rounded out the set, along with a few toys, games, books, and a boombox. The only curtains were located at the back of the stage: heavy black velvet, hanging in two layers that gave depth to what I came to realize would represent a dark, unknowable forest. I also took note of the theatre lights along the wings of the stage whence they promised to do a fair bit of heavy lifting for this production.
As I sat wondering about the odd premise of this play—a trio of children left in the forest by their parents—the scene suddenly sprang to life, and the Hansel and Gretel fairy tale winding gently through my head went up in a puff of smoke. The three people had jumped to their feet at the sound of a tinny alarm and were now screaming words in unison. Something about a cataclysmic world event?! The time had come to enact their much-rehearsed escape plan?? And then they were speeding down a highway with their homes disappearing behind them?!
That opening leads into a heartbreaking look at children’s minds encountering the end of the world. Chloe Budziszewski, age 22 (who is also the director), Mary Medina, age 21, and Alfa, age 19, are convincing in their portrayals of two young girls and a boy who quickly learn to be a family— needing one another at the most basic level of physical survival and mental sanity. These three promising young actors become a truly united force of nature in bringing such a demanding play to life.
Throughout their time together the characters live by one mantra: “Tell every story. Tell it all.” An edict from their parents which comes with a prompting game to keep them focused. Their poignant efforts pull them back from the edge of breakdown over and over, yet cannot keep them from the eventual need to face an inevitable fate.
The artistic use of lighting in this play conveys the passage of time, but we have no real idea how long the children go on like this. Several months? A few years? It’s one of several loose ends that kept me pondering long after the performance was over— but in a good way. A story like this will always present more questions than answers.
The Precursors was written in 2021 by Luis Sorolla and translated from the original Spanish by Don Bogen. Sorolla invites us to wonder if the end of things is just the beginning of a new story.
I highly recommend this thoughtful, award-winning play.
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UN HUARD A LE CAFARD/
A LONE LOON
The venue of this play could not have been more appropriate for the story! The lush outdoor space of Café Santropol, with its trees and flowers, its fishpond and bubbling fountains, formed the perfect backdrop to the strange little tale that unfolded when I attended today. The performance was held in the back garden of the cafe, an oasis with uneven rocky terrain, dotted with woodchips, and accessible through the back entrance.
There was magic in the air, partly due to the weather. A downpour had necessitated cancellation yesterday of what should have been the very first performance of this World Premiere—so today’s audience received that honour instead, under a grey sky that wanted to rain again, yet kindly refrained. Leaves, still wet and intensely green, fluttered around us as squirrels dashed across the staged area and birds chirped overhead. It was easy to believe we were seated on the shore of a lonely lake. And as far as theatre goes, the natural lighting was perfection.
Enter Maggie Winston, the solo stage artist who carries the show from beginning to end, mostly without any words whatsoever. The character’s aim is to sight a loon, but the curious audience is left to wonder: Is this creature actually a human, or a bird herself? After watching her undergo the gamut of emotions, from sadness to frustration to joy and transformation, by the end it is clear that she is simply, and adorably, as fluid as a northern lake.
It’s a lovely play for children up to age 10 or so, which their families can enjoy with them. Unfortunately, the turnout was sparse today, with nary a child in sight. Still, the half-dozen young-at-heart adults in attendance enjoyed the gentle humour, and willingly participated in activities such as gazing up at the skies with toilet-paper-tube binoculars, and helping to create waves in the lake with undulating strips of blue fabric. The little puppet stage and props were simple and rustic, yet successful in creating imaginative effects and extending the lake illusion beyond the proscenium and up to the feet of the audience. The loon puppets bobbing in the waves were equally simple in design, yet completely charming.
Virtually a character in its own right is the human-made soundscape of the play, subtly manipulated from a laptop and projected into the action by sound technician Shany Diaz. Nature sounds of birds, animals, and bubbling water are layered with fragments of music from toy pianos and xylophones to give extra dimension to the narrative and to build emotion towards the climax of the story—where we finally get to hear the ethereal call of the loons.
A lovely serendipity in the case of today’s show was the way the electronic sound effects blended randomly with nature’s own small orchestra of birds and breezes located in the immediate vicinity.
At this point, in the beginning of its run, there were a few hiccups in the direction of A Lone Loon. Communication between actor and sound tech could be tightened up a bit to make for smoother synchronization. And one of the equipment supports in the seating area was used as a chair by an audience member, causing a small mishap—but this was before the play started. There were also moments of slightly interruptive noise from diners in another area of the outdoor café.
These were all minor points, and did not detract from my enjoyment of A Lone Loon. I feel that it will be an even better, and livelier, experience when children are in the audience. I do recommend that families sample this short and delightful multi-media production with their kids!
Due to the cancellation, there will be two performances on June 20, 2026.
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Intrusive Thoughts
The venue is a spacious dance studio with stark white walls and flood lights suspended from a high ceiling. The set design is as minimal as can be: a folding chair beside a cube table which holds just five props: a wine bottle, a goblet, a phone, a clipboard, a knife. The audience is in place. It’s a full house.
Knowing that the play comes with content advisories and an adults-only designation, yet with no actual depiction of violence, I was expecting a quiet exploration of disturbing themes, heavy on cerebral content but low on physical action within this placid set.
I was wrong, SO wrong. From the moment Andrea Thring, playwright and solo performer, possesses the stage, a thick torrent of emotion crackles out from her directly into a stunned audience who hold their breath to the very end. This is a mentally and physically demanding role, which sees the actor sliding effortlessly from one persona to the next: her narcissistic mother, her abusive stepfather, the threatening strangers and cruel lovers she encounters along the way, herself at different ages, and in her career as a psychotherapist to deeply traumatized clients. It’s a tour de force of brilliant character portrayal where a highly accomplished performer draws the viewers into her world, her nightmare, by commanding the terrain of the stage, moving constantly throughout the space in phases of extreme fear, fantasies of revenge, and hot rage burning in her belly, up to and including an out-of-body experience. Owning these dark feelings is her road to catharsis in a powerless situation. Finding room for some dark humour helps to ground the viewer’s experience and relieve some of the tension.
This performance could not have succeeded without very solid writing and staging behind it. Andrea Thring spent a year developing her concept and molding a work of theatrical art based upon her real-life experiences, while also giving much credit to dramaturgs and collaborators who helped her achieve it.
In the midst of crushing emotion, the audience has been dead silent. As the ending crashes down, they can finally draw a breath. Violence confined to the memory and consigned to the mind for examination, is violence nonetheless. And when a knife appears in a play, remember it’s there for a reason.
This is a serious piece of art that you will want to see if you have suffered trauma yourself, or are interested in psychological drama. It is playing at the White Wall Studio, located up a flight of stairs and not accessible by wheelchair.
