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How to fix the Fringe Festival
Steve Cohen
Who's intimidated? Or:
How to fix the Fringe festival
STEVE COHEN
Dancer Nick Stuccio and performance artist Eric Schofer founded the Philadelphia Fringe Festival in 1997 because, Stuccio recalls, he felt constricted by classical ballet: “I wanted to put on an off-beat freak show, and I say that lovingly," he says. The Fringe has always been more than what was onstage; it was an ambience. Stuccio speaks fondly of "artists hanging out, drinking, performing for each other at the old Ortlieb Brewery."
That first season included 60 artists performing in 37 Old City venues, and attendance was about 17,000. This September 150 acts appeared, plus 30 more in the simultaneous Live Arts Festival– where artists are invited – and attendance has grown to about 40,000. Fringe events now play at the Wilma and the University of the Arts as well as the Walnut and the Arden – although the Fringe just rents the rooms and there’s no interconnection.
A fringe, by definition, occupies the edge or the border of a fabric; it pushes the boundaries. The Fringe often presents cutting-edge stuff that sometimes— for better or worse— foretells what’s to come. In the late ‘90s Kiki and Herb did their drag show at Philly’s Fringe for $500; now they’re on Broadway and at the Kimmel. Many young creative people got exposure at the Fringe and now are part of ongoing companies.
But despite its growth and artistic success, Philadelphia’s Fringe Festival remains at the fringe of most people’s consciousness. Public awareness of what it is, and its attractions, remains low– even among folks who attend other theater.
In the lobby of the mainstream Walnut Street Theatre on the recent opening night of Windy City, I spoke with several groups of folks, none of whom had attended any Fringe production this year. Even friends who prefer to attend previews— when works are still in progress and ticket prices are lower, obvious candidates for the Fringe– did not attend either.
Bad timing
Involvement is hindered because the Fringe Festival opens before Labor Day and runs only 16 days. Some theater lovers can’t go because they’re still on vacation. Many are registering for school and buying textbooks. Or going back to work and catching up on changes at the office. Or enjoying the last weekend at the swim club. Or preparing for the High Holy Days. Even local mainstage directors miss most of the Fringe because they’re in the midst of rehearsing their own opening productions.
The question is: Even though Fringe attendance is impressive, is it missing more than it’s hitting? I suspect a huge reservoir of patrons is neglected and even discouraged from attending.
But the Fringe’s problem, I suspect, isn’t only the calendar; it’s a matter of its public profile and its tone. There’s no control over quality because the Fringe is unscreened and uncensored. Sophisticated content is not barred, but it is neglected or derided. Some journalists contribute to the problem. A writer in Philadelphia Weekly dissed a comedy about dinner parties, Ps and Qs, as he boasted that no one he knows has a dining room table, let alone ever hosts a dinner.
Some intelligent theater-lovers are puzzled and even intimidated by the Fringe, which is funny when you realize that the festival was aimed at people who are intimidated by established theater. With 112 pages in the Fringe catalog, there’s no way to know what will be good. So you take potluck and buy a bunch of cheap tickets. You wander the streets, ducking into one venue then another. But the better shows sell out— and many folks, like me, could not get to see Amnesia Curiosa in the surgical amphitheater at Pennsylvania Hospital or Ps and Qs in a dining room at the Ethical Culture Center.
“See two shows and get drunk”
The idea of the Fringe is easy access, unfiltered. "You can unwrap candy, smoke a cigarette and drink a beer at some of the shows," Stuccio says approvingly. But this ambience offends some goers.
"With 30 bucks in your pocket you can see two shows and get drunk," Stuccio said in a web interview, reinforcing the same Fringe problem: There’s a perception that the Fringe is aimed at uncultured, boozing rowdies.
For example, EYE-95 was a hit at the first Fringe and came back this fall. The play’s celebration of low-lifes became iconic. Fans of the show love its raunchiness and the free beer that’s handed out. But what about patrons who prefer a glass of Merlot rather than a can of beer? Or those of us who’d love a bottle of real Bud at a café in Budovice but who’ve had enough of dive bars.
This year’s highlights and lowlights
A very few Fringe productions are safe bets because they’ve been produced previously, like Pig Iron Theater’s Love Unpunished. Some good new productions were Green Light’s Fat Pig, by Neil Labute with a superb cast ; Triangle Theater’s I’m Not Oedipus, a reflection on death and sex written and performed by Jay Nachman; and The Sea, a multi-media musical composed and performed by James Sugg. Ballet X, run by Philadelphians Christine Cox and Matthew Neenan working with the Finnish choreographer Jorma Elo, presented a mix of classic and modern dance.
One of the most intriguing had, frustratingly, only one performance: Carlo vs. Carlo, by Aaron Cromie, which contrasted the writings of two Venetian playwrights, Carlo Goldoni and Carlo Gozzi, moderated by Philly playwright Michael Hollinger.
Other presentations suffered from bad acting, clumsy tech work and rambling inanity intermixed with occasional humor. You must treat the festival as an adventure. If a piece doesn’t work— hey, it was only an hour, and only ten bucks or so.
Speaking of adventure, in previous years I’ve climbed into the back seat of a car for a one-man show, and this year some folks went to performances in row homes or were directed around Old City on their cell phone, where dancers leapt out of the darkness and involved them. But I’ve had a difficult time persuading friends and loved ones to devote themselves to the scavenger hunt that is the Fringe experience.
One possible solution
One way to increase involvement would be to give up the Labor Day schedule. I know space is hard to find in the middle of the regular theater season, but what about the late spring? After months of mainstream theater, audiences would be in the mood for the quirky and the risky. And actors, choreographers, directors and tech people would be more easily available.
Then, too, you’d have unrestricted time at the Festival’s end to bring back "the best of" for repeat performances, the way the New York Fringe does. Fringe Two. Or Fringe Too. Call it what you will; you could double the attendance for productions that represent the best the Fringe has to offer.
Fringe officials boast that the festival offers "Something for everybody." Does it? Not yet.
To read a response, click here.
How to fix the Fringe festival
STEVE COHEN
Dancer Nick Stuccio and performance artist Eric Schofer founded the Philadelphia Fringe Festival in 1997 because, Stuccio recalls, he felt constricted by classical ballet: “I wanted to put on an off-beat freak show, and I say that lovingly," he says. The Fringe has always been more than what was onstage; it was an ambience. Stuccio speaks fondly of "artists hanging out, drinking, performing for each other at the old Ortlieb Brewery."
That first season included 60 artists performing in 37 Old City venues, and attendance was about 17,000. This September 150 acts appeared, plus 30 more in the simultaneous Live Arts Festival– where artists are invited – and attendance has grown to about 40,000. Fringe events now play at the Wilma and the University of the Arts as well as the Walnut and the Arden – although the Fringe just rents the rooms and there’s no interconnection.
A fringe, by definition, occupies the edge or the border of a fabric; it pushes the boundaries. The Fringe often presents cutting-edge stuff that sometimes— for better or worse— foretells what’s to come. In the late ‘90s Kiki and Herb did their drag show at Philly’s Fringe for $500; now they’re on Broadway and at the Kimmel. Many young creative people got exposure at the Fringe and now are part of ongoing companies.
But despite its growth and artistic success, Philadelphia’s Fringe Festival remains at the fringe of most people’s consciousness. Public awareness of what it is, and its attractions, remains low– even among folks who attend other theater.
In the lobby of the mainstream Walnut Street Theatre on the recent opening night of Windy City, I spoke with several groups of folks, none of whom had attended any Fringe production this year. Even friends who prefer to attend previews— when works are still in progress and ticket prices are lower, obvious candidates for the Fringe– did not attend either.
Bad timing
Involvement is hindered because the Fringe Festival opens before Labor Day and runs only 16 days. Some theater lovers can’t go because they’re still on vacation. Many are registering for school and buying textbooks. Or going back to work and catching up on changes at the office. Or enjoying the last weekend at the swim club. Or preparing for the High Holy Days. Even local mainstage directors miss most of the Fringe because they’re in the midst of rehearsing their own opening productions.
The question is: Even though Fringe attendance is impressive, is it missing more than it’s hitting? I suspect a huge reservoir of patrons is neglected and even discouraged from attending.
But the Fringe’s problem, I suspect, isn’t only the calendar; it’s a matter of its public profile and its tone. There’s no control over quality because the Fringe is unscreened and uncensored. Sophisticated content is not barred, but it is neglected or derided. Some journalists contribute to the problem. A writer in Philadelphia Weekly dissed a comedy about dinner parties, Ps and Qs, as he boasted that no one he knows has a dining room table, let alone ever hosts a dinner.
Some intelligent theater-lovers are puzzled and even intimidated by the Fringe, which is funny when you realize that the festival was aimed at people who are intimidated by established theater. With 112 pages in the Fringe catalog, there’s no way to know what will be good. So you take potluck and buy a bunch of cheap tickets. You wander the streets, ducking into one venue then another. But the better shows sell out— and many folks, like me, could not get to see Amnesia Curiosa in the surgical amphitheater at Pennsylvania Hospital or Ps and Qs in a dining room at the Ethical Culture Center.
“See two shows and get drunk”
The idea of the Fringe is easy access, unfiltered. "You can unwrap candy, smoke a cigarette and drink a beer at some of the shows," Stuccio says approvingly. But this ambience offends some goers.
"With 30 bucks in your pocket you can see two shows and get drunk," Stuccio said in a web interview, reinforcing the same Fringe problem: There’s a perception that the Fringe is aimed at uncultured, boozing rowdies.
For example, EYE-95 was a hit at the first Fringe and came back this fall. The play’s celebration of low-lifes became iconic. Fans of the show love its raunchiness and the free beer that’s handed out. But what about patrons who prefer a glass of Merlot rather than a can of beer? Or those of us who’d love a bottle of real Bud at a café in Budovice but who’ve had enough of dive bars.
This year’s highlights and lowlights
A very few Fringe productions are safe bets because they’ve been produced previously, like Pig Iron Theater’s Love Unpunished. Some good new productions were Green Light’s Fat Pig, by Neil Labute with a superb cast ; Triangle Theater’s I’m Not Oedipus, a reflection on death and sex written and performed by Jay Nachman; and The Sea, a multi-media musical composed and performed by James Sugg. Ballet X, run by Philadelphians Christine Cox and Matthew Neenan working with the Finnish choreographer Jorma Elo, presented a mix of classic and modern dance.
One of the most intriguing had, frustratingly, only one performance: Carlo vs. Carlo, by Aaron Cromie, which contrasted the writings of two Venetian playwrights, Carlo Goldoni and Carlo Gozzi, moderated by Philly playwright Michael Hollinger.
Other presentations suffered from bad acting, clumsy tech work and rambling inanity intermixed with occasional humor. You must treat the festival as an adventure. If a piece doesn’t work— hey, it was only an hour, and only ten bucks or so.
Speaking of adventure, in previous years I’ve climbed into the back seat of a car for a one-man show, and this year some folks went to performances in row homes or were directed around Old City on their cell phone, where dancers leapt out of the darkness and involved them. But I’ve had a difficult time persuading friends and loved ones to devote themselves to the scavenger hunt that is the Fringe experience.
One possible solution
One way to increase involvement would be to give up the Labor Day schedule. I know space is hard to find in the middle of the regular theater season, but what about the late spring? After months of mainstream theater, audiences would be in the mood for the quirky and the risky. And actors, choreographers, directors and tech people would be more easily available.
Then, too, you’d have unrestricted time at the Festival’s end to bring back "the best of" for repeat performances, the way the New York Fringe does. Fringe Two. Or Fringe Too. Call it what you will; you could double the attendance for productions that represent the best the Fringe has to offer.
Fringe officials boast that the festival offers "Something for everybody." Does it? Not yet.
To read a response, click here.
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