As the prerecorded announcement before every show tells you, the Fringe is fast. Shows average one hour and theaters turn over in 30 minutes or less. This tends to keep sets minimal and casts small, if not solo. So far, I’ve checked out two solo shows and two surprisingly large-cast musicals.
Bigfoot! The Musical
Bigfoot! The Musical has, remarkably, a cast of 10. This heartwarming and hilarious original 90-minute show is set in the 1980s, in the fictional town of Mud Dirt—whose name is the title of the fun and energetic opening (and closing) number.
The main characters are a mother, Francine (Rodnesha Green) and her giant, hairy son, not so affectionately known as Bigfoot (Lucas Alifano). A caring doctor (Jeff Scot Carey), a corrupt mayor (Emerson Boatwright) and conspiracy theorist Joanne (Shelby Miguel) are joined by five townspeople, played by Meghan Allison (who also did the show’s outstanding choreography), Cody Clark (also a prop designer), Emily Clark (also musical director), Dana DeRuyck (prop design) and Vincent Perez. The team is ready for a larger stage and a set that goes beyond three black cubes and a leafy tarp.
Alifano, in a Bigfoot costume, rules the show with his vocal talents and heart. He ages from eight to 18, with an appropriately goofy and upbeat demeanor. Green brings comedy chops; despite her character’s health problems, she always gets a laugh. Boatwright, as the mayor, seemed to gain in confidence as the show progressed and, as the bad guy, obviously relished such lines as “Let’s kill what we don’t understand!” and “Consequences are for poor people!” Carey is the solid through-line of caring dependability, Miguel kooky and wry.
It’s clean, campy, clever fun from Amber Ruffin (book and lyrics), Kevin Sciretta (book) and David Schmoll (music). The songs are witty and melodic. As a bonus, the messages about looking beyond the obvious and the dangers of mobthink come through loud and clear.
Three performances remain in the run, at the Broadwater (Second Stage), 6320 Santa Monica Blvd. near Vine. Tickets are $15 and can be purchased here.
Foxy Ladies Love Boogie 70s Explosion!
From “I Am Woman” to “Dark Lady,” country to disco, Linda Ronstadt to Linda Carter, Foxy Ladies Love Boogie 70s Explosion! includes all—and I mean all!—the female-driven hits of an entire decade. I counted more than 75 songs, including TV and movie themes, performed in whole or part over the course of almost two hours.
The seven singers start out billed as the “Little Ladies” in all-male band, led by musical director Guy Manly (Joel Rutkowski). But it’s the 1970s and they quickly claim their second-wave feminism power and take over the stage.
Each singer has a well-defined role and plenty of time to shine. Charlo Crossley, a former Harlette and multi-talented stage actress, is the matriarch. Karla Mosley is the fabulous diva with the wide range and sparkling charisma. Nina Gosiengfiao is the free-spirited belter, Toni Lorene Baker the cute babe, Tiffany Brevard the “swinger.” Erin Ortegon is the girl next door, Devan Watring “boogie love.” Two female musicians, Erin Hawkins on cello and Michelle McGregor on trumpet and percussion, join the group and also sing.
The show tries to cover too much ground, and misses at least two perfect opportunities for an ending before finally coming to rest after “We Are Family.” Fast-paced slide shows of TV shows, movies and sexy male stars become a little overwhelming and could do with some trimming. A timeline of female firsts, including Roe v. Wade (ouch), the first female FBI agent and Barbara Walters as the first female network news anchor is not that impressive and could easily be cut.
But these are quibbles. The music is the star of the show, and there is plenty of it. It’s sung with great energy by a talented group that was mostly born decades after the songs were hits. By the end, the performers are dancing in the aisles with delirious patrons and a good time is had by all.
Veta Adrion and Mitchell Johnson are in charge of the mind-blowing and ever-changing costumes and accessories. They make this a fashion show as much as a musical revue.
There are only two remaining performances, one of which is sold out. Grab your $25 tickets here and when you get to Three Clubs (1123 N. Vine St. near Santa Monica Blvd.), order a couple of drinks and settle in.
My Mother Doesn’t Know I’m Kinky
Self-described “kinky queen” Jean Franzblau tells the story of her evolution from vanilla to BDSM cheerleader in this solo show with plenty of trigger warnings on its Fringe page. Franzblau’s bio gives her background as a consent expert at universities, an intimacy professional for TV, film and theater, and a teacher of cuddle therapy.
All that experience helping others navigate intimacy gives Franzblau insights into what guides her libido, as well as a willingness to speak frankly and publicly. She even has some books to recommend. After some pre-show music that includes “Super Freak,” she enters with some high-kicking that would do Sally O’Malley proud, then starts in on her childhood in Florida. Despite having parents in the medical profession, she was told nothing about sex. Her parents’ negative reaction to her sexually active older sister influenced her for decades, before she ultimately stumbled onto her true sexual calling.
As she builds new awareness, Franzblau asks “Where was I?” She gets into a relationship and learns terms like “sub space.” And she keeps exploring and sharing her growing knowledge.
Three shows remain in the run, at the Broadwater (Second Stage), 6320 Santa Monica Blvd. near Vine. Tickets are $20 and are available here.
Cock Tales
NOTE: I saw a preview performance of this show.
Lori Hoeft breaks into tears more than once as she tells about her life, mixing together stories of bad sex and relationships with the pain of her father’s death. Her aging pit bull is the credited co-author (as Macy Pitt) of the show, subtitled “Straight Up, Dirty & Shaken Stories of Lust & Love.”
It doesn’t all hang together, and Hoeft, who read the entire 75-minute show from a script, isn’t quite ready for prime time. She is earnest but not completely sympathetic as she describes her desperation to be married, her actions that surely move her farther from that goal, and the pit bull who has been her steadfast companion but now has bone cancer. The dog’s presence in the front row, and staggering to Hoeft at the end is heartbreaking.
Greg Hoffman on keyboards and Jimmy Berry on guitar and some musical context, including improvisational-sounding songs describing Hoeft’s series of unfortunate adventures.
Four performances remain in the run, at the Davidson Valentini Theatre on the campus of the LA LGBT Center, 1225 N. McCadden Place, near Santa Monica Blvd. Tickets are $25 and are available here.
