Evolution

The Minnesota Fringe Festival is going on, and tonight, I saw the perfect show. Perfect in it’s utter sincerity and lack of talent. I don’t need to name names; we all know what I mean. It’s a show, the epitome of “fringy”, that’s so bad it’s good.

It began in earnest, with plastic costumes and folk music. I was smitten. I sat with R and knew she was feeling the same. There was no way I could walk out on this one; I had to see this glorious train wreck to the bitter end. Thankfully it used only ½ of it’s allotted time.

There I was in the dark, in the second row of a theater where I’ve performed, and my heart sang in flat accompaniment. These folks hit upon all the archetypes, or enough of them to bring us along. There was the king, the queen, the fallen-from-grace son, the Puck look-alike, the fool, the politician, the medicine woman and the innocent. Plus a maypole! And apples! It was relegion.

This is why I love the Fringe; this is why I’m on it’s board. It’s not to give more to those who already dominate our cultural landscape. It’s to give these folks a chance. It’s to commune with the church basement performers in all of us.

Tonight I witnessed a phase of evolution. From plastic may they graduate to organic materials and the know-how to deliver a line. Meanwhile I’ll continue to sit in the house, on the verge of tears, hoping that I can affect as profoundly.