Remembering Max

Tonight was going to be the launch of my new "season" of the Prairie Groundling, as it were, with my review of My Chernobyl. That will still be forthcoming shortly, but I ended up taking some time to go see the No Nos perform. It was a special occasion.

If any of you aren't aware, the No Nos are an improv troupe who have kicked around Saskatoon for several years now. I first discovered them in my second year of university, about five years ago, when they were still performing in the Off-Broadway. I was an instant fan. The whole thing was like Whose Line is it Anyway on cocaine. The cast was filled with so many talented and hilarious people, it was like learning to laugh again. Since those early nights the No Nos have bounced around quite a bit, from venue to venue like they're out of some folk tale. Every time I've come back to see a show, wherever they happen to be, I would always see Max Bembridge keeping the ship afloat.

Tonight was meant to be the opening of their new season. But to my shock, on Tuesday there came an announcement that Max had died, and that this show would be a special memorial to him.

I never knew Max, personally. But through what I saw of him through the No Nos, and the occasions I saw him outside, I came to an understanding of the sort of person he was. He was endlessly enthusiastic, charismatic, and funny. He always thanked me for coming out to the show, and he seemed to remember me, even though I could spend months between attending performances. I always saw him running like a workhorse behind the scenes to get everything ready, right up until the minute the show started, and then he would burst out onstage, brimming with energy. I know the word "vivacious" is mainly applied to aging female celebrities, but all it really means is full of life, and I think we can agree that Max was vivacious.

I wasn't sure what to expect from tonight's show; I don't think anyone was. In part, it was a regular show, with the familiar improv games, and despite the mood all the performers came out swinging. But in between sketches, members of the cast took the stage to share their own memories of Max. Heartwrenching, heartwarming, and also really funny. There were plenty of tears shed, both by the cast and by the audience members packed into the makeshift auditorium at Le Relais (a fire code or two may have been broken). The show was not an elegy. As emotional as it was, I wouldn't call it sad. Above all it was a celebration of Max's life and this group and would not and could not exist if it hadn't been for him. And I suppose there was no better send-off for Max than raucous laughter from all the people who loved and admired him.

This is not how I had imagined starting off a new season of this blog. But here we are. I've had to think about what we're really doing here, about Saskatoon theatre. The term "theatre community" gets tossed around a lot, by me and by others. Tonight really gave me a clearer understanding of what that idea actually means. We are a community, all of us connected. Seeing the crowd come out for Max it made me think about how each member of this community has such a profound effect on everyone else, even outside of what they do in the actual theatre. We're a family, and working in our own backyard like this brings us all close together: closer than we realise until we lose someone. Even those of us who didn't know Max feel like we know him, in a small way, at least.

Honestly, I didn't know why I started this blog. The past year I've been testing the enthusiasm of other people about it, and my own dedication in keeping it running. So far the former has outstripped the latter. But that's going to change. Because looking at recent events I finally understand what I'm doing here. I'm not a reviewer; I'm a historian. This whole theatre community is such a fantastic beast, filled with comedy and tragedy, and I'm watching over it. I don't know if that's necessary, but for the moment it's where I belong.

Now, before I say goodbye to you all for now, and before I say goodbye to Max forever, I'll share my favourite No Nos scene right here.

Max and Derek in "Hobo Feeder"

So long, Max. I'm happy for almost knowing you.