Feels Like a Neighborhood

This year’s Cincinnati Fringe Festival is now concluded - and I wanted to reflect a bit on this year’s festival and what it means to the landscape of Cincinnati’s arts and culture scene.

Every show in this year’s lineup was reviewed by a team of people from the League of Cincinnati Theatres. I even stepped in as a guest reviewer there this year. Check out the Fringe grid here.

This year I saw Fringe from a new angle — as a staff photographer, in addition to my usual coverage. But I still did what I always do: see as much as I could without running myself ragged or overcommitting. To the shows I missed, I heard so many good things - and I hope maybe I can catch an encore somewhere, sometime!

Here’s a recap of the shows I did see:

White Whale — Sean Mette turned a forgotten scrap of Cincinnati history — an 1877 scheme to display living beluga whales in the Queen City — into something charming and inventive. Puppetry and practical effects on a shoestring, and an ending that landed with real weight.

Unreconciled — Jay Sefton’s autobiographical show about a boy cast as Jesus by a priest later defrocked for abuse was the most powerful thing I saw all festival. A dozen characters at a breakneck pace. The gut punches arrived before I could brace for them.

A Hollywood Horror Story — Ingrid Garner became Maila Nurmi — Vampira, television’s first horror host — so completely I forgot I ever watched her play Eleanor. A total transformation. I kept lowering the camera just to watch.

Papa — A clown show about Frankenstein’s monster that’s secretly about being somebody’s child. Madeline Rowe played the creature with precision and sweetness, and Jay Eisenberg was the perfect foil. One of my favorites of the festival.

1 Gay Wedding and Absolutely No Funerals: Reception to Follow — Goofy, farcical, and fully committed to its own absurdity. You walked in a theatergoer and walked out a wedding guest.

BOMB! An FBI Memoir — One of the strangest musicals I’ve ever seen, silly and serious in the same breath, directed by Gina Kleesattel and written by Liz Coley, based on her brother-in-law’s actual memoir. Sean Miller-Jones anchored the whole thing. He’s always good, but here he was miraculous.

Quiet Coyotes — Three summer camp counselors and a wildfire that reveals their true character. Ellyn Broderick’s comic timing, and the easy rapport with Cary Davenport and Monica Tenhover, made me invest right away.

Modern Butchood — A smart, funny, surprisingly dark solo show from Molly Gloeckner. Hannah Einbinder meets Fleabag. It’s about a monster — just not the one you expect.

The Boy from Bantay — Jeremy Rafal’s warm, moving piece about a boy, a piano, and the classical music hiding inside his Saturday-morning cartoons. He holds a doctorate in piano, so when he played, we were hearing the real thing.

Memento Holly — A beautifully written two-hander about two people, one car, and a shared loss. Zoë Peterson and Sawyer Pardo were locked in from the first moment. It made me laugh and it made me cry.

The Mad Women’s Ball — InBocca Performance’s socially conscious devised theatre that’s also genuinely fun, directed by Caroline Stine. Katie Scarlett anchored as Dr. Charcot, and the choreography by Kate Stark, Perry Hensley, and Courtney Duncan gave the whole thing its charge.

Dizzy Miss Lizzie’s Roadside Revue: The Saints — A kooky look at some Catholic saints, with strong musical numbers.

Good…Girl? — In this Fringe Development piece, Lucía Duque held four people inside one body. I didn’t get it all, but I loved all of it.

trueFRINGE — Four artists, one story each about their artistic paths. This year’s storytellers were Katie Melby of Champagne Dreams, Sachin Sharma of Colonial Circus, Fringe photographer Jeff Burkle, and Hannah Sage From of Appalachian Songcatcher. I love hearing artists talk about their creative journeys.

Jon Bennett: This Will Only Ever Happen Once - My first time seeing a Jon Bennett show, after three years of rave reviews. He’s got a way with words - and images - that will keep you laughing all night.

The Other Half

The shows are only half of Fringe. The other half happens after the lights go down — and this year I got to photograph a lot of it.

The Fringe Dance Party — It took a minute for the floor to fill, but when it did, it held every kind of person you could picture: all ages, all genders, regulars and first-timers, everyone just dancing. For me, that floor is the whole festival in miniature.

The Gay Spelling Bee — Ben and Justin Present know exactly what they have, and their fourth outing with the format came right down to the wire. Thanks to “Auntie Fringe” Karen Brinkman for sponsoring the night.

The Flashlight Cabaret — A low-tech, gloriously under-rehearsed night where artists do something other than their show. This year: a gorgeous ballet number, a reunion tour of an animal band, and a burlesque turn from Nosferatu, among others.

Awards Night — The night the festival says thank you and hands out the hardware — the same awards up at the top of this post.

Every year I come to Fringe for the shows, and every year I leave talking about the people.

The benches outside the Know are where my favorite moments often happen. The 60 Second Previews, where a room full of artists cheers for work they haven’t even seen yet. The friends I only catch once a year, and the “what did you see tonight?” that turns into “you HAVE to see this one.” A festival this size could feel like a chore. This one feels like a neighborhood. That isn’t an accident — it’s curated creatively, but it’s also nurtured with intention, every year, by a handful of people who hold the whole thing up.

By name: Katie Hartman, Fringe Producer. Bridget Leak, Producing Artistic Director of Know Theatre. Shea Haney, Development Manager. Ri Moodie, Managing Director. Becca Armstrong, Production Manager and Resident Stage Manager. Drew Homan, Technical Director. And volunteer coordinators Sienna Glaze and Danitza Piper.

Thank you — for the long hours, the problem-solving no one sees, and the festival you build for the rest of us.

This year’s festival is over. I’m already looking forward to next year. See you there?

Kirk Sheppard is a proud member of the American Theatre Critic/Journalists Association. He writes about Cincinnati theatre—but mostly about being human. Check out kirksheppard.com for more information.