I showed up to Arts Umbrella at precisely 8:03 to see The Distance Between New Brunswick and Toronto, not realizing that a) it was after 8:00 and b) there were absolutely no late entries to Fringe shows. As the friendly lady behind the table apologetically explained that she could not let us in, another volunteer interrupted, with the kind of aggression that led me to flinch in surprise,that you can’t be late and no, we can’t give you a refund. Lesson: be on time.

Flustered, I proceeded to the box office, where a very nice volunteer said he would be happy to help us find another show. He recommended The Inventor of All Things and at 8:08 we power-walked in the direction he had pointed, hoping to get there in time for the 8:15 start.

We arrived at 8:11, only to learn another lesson: the Fringe Festival is a credit or cash only affair. Thankfully, I’m friends with real adults, who can be counted on to have more than a debit card in their backpack. Tickets obtained, memberships purchased, and with a few minutes to spare, I took a deep breath and reached for a program. On it was a man in a tub, holding a knife in one hand and a puppet in the other. “What’s this…?” I asked. “It’s the show!” the woman behind the table replied, convinced I was a moron, but determined to be nice to me.

By 8:31, I’d arrived at the conclusion that the nice man at the box office had been looking at the schedule for the previous day when he recommended the show to me. Written in chalk on the stage before me was an outline of what this play would be about: puppets and murder. Nervous and full of dread, I took my seat and prepared myself for what was to come. But to my surprise, Baker’s Dozen: 12 Angry Puppets had me laughing, smiling and nodding in agreement from start to finish.

The Baker has been found dead in a bathtub, the Candlemaker has disappeared but was definitely at the scene of the crime, and the Butcher is on trial for murder. Twelve puppets are summoned for jury duty to determine whether the Butcher killed his husband, the Baker. With their snap judgements, biases, and even indifference, those puppets had me hoping never to find myself at the mercy of a jury.

I had expected for the puppeteer to be hiding in the darkness, dressed all in black. Adam Francis Proulx, however, is very much a part of the show, without distracting from the periwinkle puppet on his right hand. Armed with only his voice, facial expressions, body language, and a single puppet, Proulx switches from one character to another with ease. Reaching into his jury box for different wigs and facial features, he creates new personas, all while moving to dramatic music. When he returns to the chair at centre stage, he–and his puppet–are transformed. With humour and creativity, one man and one puppet tell a story that reminds viewers that juries can be fallible.

And this brings me to the most important lesson I learned at the Fringe this year: if you think puppet shows are not for you, you’re wrong.

Baker’s Dozen: 12 Angry Puppets hit the stage at this year’s Van­cou­ver Fringe Fes­ti­val, which runs until Sept 20. For a full list­ing of Fringe events, visit the fes­ti­val web­site. 

While sitting and waiting for The Wonderheads‘ new feat of wordless maskwork, The Middle of Everywhere, to start, the kindly gentleman sitting next to me asked me if I knew what the show would be about. Not expecting my unprofessional lack of research to be exposed quite that quickly, I stammered that I thought it was about “space and time and stuff?” After spending an enjoyable hour in the world of The Middle of Everywhere, I’m afraid I’m not any closer to answering my neighbour’s question.

Have you ever been stuck on public transit and imagined what would happen if some vague, unspecified disaster took place, and you were stuck with the people on your Seabus/Skytrain/bus stop for a long period of time? You would have to overcome obstacles and fight bad guys; deeply hidden aspects of your personality would come to light; and inevitably you would need to commit unspeakable acts of cannibalism to stay alive? I’ve never imagined that either. But a much cuter version of this nightmarish premise is the base of the plot of The Middle of Everywhere, in which two disparate characters meet at a bus stop and discover a strange radio dial-like device that sends them to nooks and crannies of the universe. The professor Winston (Emily Windler), wearing a sweater-vest to signify his fuddy-duddyness, finds Penny (Kate Braidwood), a young girl running away from home and described by the narrator as “whimsical.” Along the way they encounter an adorable, furry monster named Angus (Andrew Phoenix) who becomes part of their ragtag gang.

The Wonderheads’ ability to convey character through their giant painstakingly constructed masks is magical, and the level of choreography necessary to be able to interact, perform physical comedy, and even dance (in one entertaining sequence set at a disco) while wearing the heavy masks is pretty incredible. Equally creative is the use of music, sound, and lighting cues to create an imagined world in the audience’s minds–we can instantly locate the characters as they flash between a dozen different settings, despite using few props and a nearly bare stage. The use of the spotlight is best in a literally dark scene which veers between horror, comedy, and Punch and Judy, as Penny and Winston search for the monster that is never where they are trying to look.

Various indignities are heaped upon poor Winston – he puts his back out while dancing, is shot at, and gets pooped on by an invisible bird, but of course he learns to confront his fears in the ACDC-soundtracked crowd-rocking denouement. Winston and Penny travel to many strange places on their adventure. Even if The Middle of Everywhere doesn’t really go anywhere, it’s fun, sweet, and it just might make you see the stage in a new light.

The Middle of Everywhere hit the stage at this year’s Vancouver Fringe Fes­ti­val, which runs until Sept 20. For a full list­ing of upcom­ing Fringe events, visit the fes­ti­val web­site. 

For the Vancouver Fringe Festival this year, I really wanted to see some comedy. After scrolling through the program guide I came across Peter n’ Chris (Peter Carlone and Chris Wilson) and their self-written play Here Lies Chris. These two Canadian comics are veterans of the Canadian Fringe circuit and have also appeared in the Just for Laughs Festival.

The show took place at the Pacific Theatre on 12th Avenue, a very cool space tucked away in the corner of an old church building. The crowd was warm and friendly, a solid group of typical smiling Fringe-goers. I sat high up the risers and waited anxiously to see what would come my way.

Peter and Chris walk out while performing a lip sync and dance number set to “Some Nights” by Fun–a perfect introduction to the folly of these two comics. Their sketch show is loose and leaves lots of room for improvisation. First an foremost, Here Lies Chris is an initiation into sketch comedy as a genre (they begin with a ‘lesson in sketch’). But as the show opens up, it transforms into an intergalactic journey.

There’s a touch of the chaotic as Peter and Chris run up and down risers, talking from off-stage during the performance. After much drama–and even an on-stage shooting–the audience learns that Chris has recently moved to Toronto, leaving Peter alone in Vancouver. This heartbreak moves the play towards its conclusion, which ends with Peter and Chris grieving their separation.

It was clear from the moment I sat down that Peter and Chris are seasoned improvisers. With great timing and writing, Here Lies Chris is enjoyable to the tragic end.

Peter N’ Chris Present: Here Lies Chris is part of the 2015 Vancouver Fringe Festival, which runs until Sept 20. For a full listing of upcoming Fringe events, visit the festival website.