Fringe - Day 3

Aiden Flynn Lost his Brother, so He Made Another (Theatre Howl)

Aiden Flynn road into this Fringe festival with a reputation that well preceded it. It had already garnered accolades across the country, including an award for Best English Production at the Montreal Fringe (although it's a silent play, so that's kind of cheating). But it remained an enigma to me, despite my familiarity with its creators. Naturally, I was curious. Now that I have seen it, I understand completely why it has received so much praise. It does everything right that a Fringe show can do.

The story follows Aiden Flynn, a young boy who sees his family start to fall apart in the wake of his young brother's stillbirth. So he takes it upon himself, through some ingenious, child-like wizardry to create a brother. After the animation is successful, the two quickly form an unbreakable bond. Aiden teaches his new brother all he can about the world, but he is not prepared for the fact that other people will be less keen on him. The obvious parallel with Frankenstein is acknowledged by having a poster advertising the movie visible in one scene. But that parallel, in addition to being too easy, is not particularly helpful. Frankenstein created his monster because of ego. Aiden Flynn's brother is born of love, just as a brother should be. That makes it all the more heartbreaking to see their relationship drift away from what Aiden wants it to be. It's a story of family: what breaks them apart and what pulls them together.

Aiden Flynn is cowritten by Nathan Howe and Morgan Murray, who are no strangers to the Saskatoon Fringe Festival. They have an eclectic portfolio of shows behind them, and while this is quite different from anything that came before, it still feels like a culmination of those previous efforts. This is their Fringe magnum opus. That's not to say that it's all downhill from here for Theatre Howl, but I am saying that Aiden Flynn demonstrates the work of people who have learned on the road and, through experience, figured out how to put together a show that just works on every level.

It is a silent show, told through movement, music, and shadow puppets. And also a projector, although that unfortunately was not working at the time I went to see the show. It is to the credit of the production, though, that it still worked so well even without one of its major elements. The reason Aiden Flynn can persevere through seemingly catastrophic technical failures is because simplicity is at the heart of the show. It is a simple tale of a boy and his brother (who is not quite as other brothers are) and the trials they must face together. Perhaps the best metaphor for the play as a whole is the lengthy scene toward the beginning when Aiden is teaching his new brother how to walk. Such profound emotion can be found in this act of infantile discovery. As the audience, we are right there taking those uneasy first steps, and we find ourselves rediscovering all those simple things that we have been taking for granted.

Nathan Howe's set design captures the bright imagination of the play while at the same time being compact enough for Fringe logistics. There are three screens set up onstage. The centre one is blank and used for projections and shadows. Certain scenes take place behind it in silhouette. The other two screens are adorned with decoration: they have multiple canvases each that can be flipped back and forth to alter time and place. Some of them exist purely for backdrop, but the actors sometimes interact with these screens as well. The scenes portrayed on them give the impression of a child's illustration: simplistic but vibrant, though they can convey a sense of bleakness as well, as when the leaves are stripped away and two bare trees adorn the stage. The physical act of flipping through the canvases aids the overall feel of the set as well, as it becomes a sort of storybook. The props used consist mostly of little odds and ends of junk that a boy might collect for his own contraptions. The slapdash assortment of items used, in addition to conveying Aiden's humble family station, gives a sense of supreme imagination as we see Aiden constructing his world before us.

Music is used frequently to convey mood. The score is all original to the play, and it works as a peculiar blend of classic whimsy with a more modern electronic feel. It weaves together the innocence and imagination of the story with the darker Frankensteinish elements. My only complaint is during Aiden's "Creation" scene the music veered too far to the electronic side that it lost the imagination of the moment, but didn't really go far enough to be dramatic. The music loses its sense of place a few times, but the overall mood is very well thought-out.

Morgan Murray takes the role of Aiden. He brings a sense of innocent charm to the character. With his broad smile and bright eyes he convincingly portrays a young boy. He conveys the plays moments of greatest happiness and greatest sadness through his expression. His vibrant energy throughout the play helps keep everyone locked in attention, especially in the early scenes when he is alone, and it creates an even more powerful contrast for those sad, quiet moments. Danielle Spilchen plays the brother. Bound up in a scarecrow outfit, covered in makeup, and fitted with some very clumsy hands, she still does a remarkable job at conveying emotion. She instills a sense of empathy in the audience very quickly, and she was able to elicit the only collective "aww" I have experienced at a Fringe play. Her movement skills are superb, particularly in her first scene where she is trying to learn basic locomotion (I have to assume that convincingly forgetting how to walk is much easier said than done). She doubtless earned a few bruises for her commitment through the falls she had to take. And though she has no words to use, Spilchen makes some incredible sounds, driving the inherent non-humanness of her character while still being filled with emotion. Both leads work extremely well together; there is an extraordinary level of communication and intimacy between, all achieved wordlessly.

Aiden Flynn has been compared to Pixar, and I can certainly see the resemblance. Personally I find it more akin to the Sylvain Chomet animated movies Triplets of Belleville and The Illusionist by the way it continually captures this sense of wonder and innocence, but retains a lingering sense of sadness underneath. Rather than cancel each other out, the two emotional levels weave into each other, creating something beautiful.  But more than anything, I can see this play as the work of the people involved, each one pouring a bit of their own soul into it - Nathan Howe's director, Nathan and Morgan's writing, and the captivating performances from Morgan and Danielle. It is a Fringe show of Fringe shows. Unique and unforgettable.