Myriad of one-woman shows to hit the stage at Edmonton fringe festival

August 11, 2024 Canuck

Artists and shows at the Edmonton International Fringe Theatre Festival this year are as varied and eclectic as ever — although attendees may notice a plethora of one-woman productions.

Edmonton playwright Madi May and her modern adaptation of Fantomina, a nearly 300-year-old novella by English writer Eliza Haywood, is one of at least 20 one-woman productions on the festival’s bill.

In both the novella and May’s version of Fantomina, a woman repeatedly disguises herself in order to dupe a man into believing he’s met four different women.

“I’m not super married to the idea that the stories that plays tell have to be realistic,” May said when asked if she thought an endeavour like Fantomina would be possible in today’s world.

“I think theatre is the most unrealistic form of art. And you have to suspend your disbelief and you have to just go with the story, because otherwise it’s just not as fun.”

May said she decided to make Fantomina a one-woman show to keep the play in line with the novella, which was written in the third person. She’s also long had a personal goal of performing solo.

“Everyone knows it’s daunting,” May said, adding that the pressure is “part of the fun.”

On the other hand, May feels that bringing a one-woman show to the festival can also be an isolating experience.

“Organizing for the Fringe is bonkers, even if you have a whole crew with you,” she said. “When it’s just you, it’s kind of even more bonkers.”

A woman with short blonde hair is wearing a grey zip-up hoodie, brown pants and blue running shoes. She is sitting cross-legged on a black floor, in a dark room with one light on. — May’s play will be among a plethora of one-woman productions at the Edmonton fringe festival this year. (Jason Franson/The Canadian Press)

Another one-woman performer at the festival this year is Ontario comedian and playwright Laura Piccinin.

Her show GO tells the tale of conquering the massive East Coast Trail hike in Newfoundland and Labrador.

“I’m writing in my journal every single day. And at the end of every day, it’s like, ‘That was so awful and difficult. Tomorrow must be better,”‘ Piccinin said.

“And then you flip the page, and the next day it’s like, ‘Fell into a lake.”‘

Piccinin spent a total of 19 days on the trail, which was three times longer than any of her previous hikes.

Her journal entries serve as the show’s script. While audience members might not be inspired to hike any time soon, Piccinin hopes people leave the show inspired to grow.

“I went through it with a lot of drama and a lot of pain and a lot of sadness. But then, at the same time, I came out of it very strong and I really felt that I had talked myself into being a better version of myself,” she said.

“That was really what I wanted to share with everyone: The process of what I went through. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t linear. It was chaos, and it did bring me where I needed to be.”

Like May, the pressure of a solo act falls heavily on Piccinin’s shoulders.

“All I’m doing is thinking about: How do I get people there?” she said. “That’s my Number One problem.”

The same problem worries festival organizers, who announced in March that a substantial funding shortfall heading into this year’s event was threatening the festival’s long-term sustainability.

Megan Dart, the festival’s executive director, said her team needs to raise $300,000 before the 2024 festival wraps up. So far, just over $100,000 have been collected.

“Much like every arts organization across the country, the last year has been one of incredible financial struggle coming out of the pandemic,” Dart said.

“We find ourselves in a situation where previously predictable revenue streams simply aren’t keeping pace with the cost of producing our event.”

Dart said the support the organization has received since March has left her “incredibly heartened,” and she’s confident it will reach its funding goal.

If the goal isn’t met, Dart said it’s likely the festival will need to shrink in the years to come in order to reduce costs.

“Those are the types of decisions that we will be looking at if funding doesn’t work itself out over the next couple of years,” she said.

“I’m so grateful that we didn’t need to make that call this year. But even still, we’ve taken a hard look at where we can cut behind the scenes without interrupting the festival experience overall.”

The 43rd annual festival runs Thursday to Aug. 25 with more than 200 productions at dozens of venues within Edmonton’s Old Strathcona neighbourhood.

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