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Arts & Culture

Fringe Fest 2013 reviews

Our top seven picks

Photo: , License: N/A


Photo: , License: N/A


Amateurish and flat at times – almost in the style of the movies it’s spoofing – Jett is helped along by Kevin Becker’s fast-paced direction, C.J. Smith’s appropriately B-movie props, Massey’s kooky costumes, and a lack of pretension. Jett may be the closest you’ll get to blastoff at this year’s Fringe without having to take your protein pills and put your helmet on. – Cameron Meier

through Sunday, May 26 | Yellow Venue | orlandofringe.org | $11

I have seen God. And I’m elated to report that He’s everything we always hoped He would be.

First of all, He’s a brilliant stand-up comedian with a wicked sense of humor (as you may have already surmised from the way your life has turned out since high school). For another, He is indeed omniscient, bursting with deep insight into everything from the history of recorded music to the failings of the Lynx bus system. Oh, and He’s also a hairy-legged Scotsman dressed in a floral women’s “power suit” from the 1980s. OK, that last part wasn’t all that predictable – but in hindsight, doesn’t it seem to explain a whole buncha stuff?

Listen, enough of me being cute. What you really want to know is that comic Mike Delamont’s God trip is one of the greatest stand-up performances I’ve heard in my 48 years on this planet. No hyperbole. I’m talking split-your-sides, clap-your-hands-raw, point-furiously-with-your-forefinger hilarious.
The whole setup is genius to begin with, as it allows Delamont to go just about anywhere: When he discusses his (I mean His) role in creation, it’s fresh and exciting because he’s a potty-mouthed Scotsman in drag; when he shifts to more mundane topics like the foolhardiness of bungee jumping, it’s still fresh and exciting because … well, because he’s God. Think George Burns crossed with Dame Edna, then pin the Virtuoso Meter all the way to the right.

Delamont is smart enough to recognize the essential spiritual sweetness at the heart of his routine, and he trusts us to perceive it, too. So in the show’s unavoidable “message” segment, he knows he doesn’t have to go too far with serious sentiment before pulling back into yet another world-class, room-slaying punchline.

You’ll hope the hour never ends. In fact, you might find yourself wishing you would die right there, so you could be with God forever. The good news is that you’ll be laughing so hard you just might. – SS

through Sunday, May 26 | Black Venue, 511 Virginia Drive | orlandofringe.org | $11

From the moment the violinist took the stage, I knew I was in for a treat. The Boy Who Stole the Sun chronicles the exploits of a prepubescent young man beginning to find his footing in the world. In Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life, Jimmy Stewart charmed his lady friend by saying he’d lasso the moon and give it to her. The protagonist of this living storybook trumps Stewart’s famous flirtation: He actually manages to steal the sun from the heavens. He achieves said feat by besting the sun in combat (or rather, an Eric Clapton-esque personification of the sun) – not bad for an 11-year-old.
The ramifications of his foolish deed bring turmoil to those close to him and he begins to digest a serious lesson about causality. His guilt is exacerbated after he’s visited by the sun’s lover, the moon, during his slumber. The dreams, albeit tumultuous for the protagonist, enhance the sense of wonder for the rest of us.

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