It鈥檚 time to trot out all the superlatives; critics and audiences alike are falling all over themselves trying to come up with bigger and better words to describe Ronnie Burkett鈥檚 bigger and better Daisy Theatre. Fantastic. Brilliant. Hilarious. Amazing. Transfixing. Everyone loves naughty (and getting naughtier by the year) Ronnie Burkett.
And what鈥檚 not to love? Burkett brings back some of our favourites. There鈥檚 tiny elfin Schnitzel shaking his cute little butt in his frilly little tutu; aging diva Esm茅 Massengill who demands we almost tear the Cultch down in our enthusiasm when she makes her entrance 鈥� and we do, whistling, shouting, stamping our feet and taking flash photos with our cellphones; the General who makes a second entrance on stage in full drag to sing 鈥淭here Are Fairies in the Bottom of My Garden鈥� accompanied on a teeny, tiny piano by the General鈥檚 mother (whose strings are pulled by an unwitting audience volunteer); and Edna Turnip, the Prairie widow who, since indifferent husband Stanley died, finds she has way too much dill growing in her garden so she begins making pastry with dill in it (dill dough). Say it fast. Oh, yeah.
There are some new marionettes, too 鈥� the best one being ventriloquist dummy
Little Woody Linden, whose eyes no longer move because his ancient, damn-near-dead master, Meyer Lemon, can鈥檛 move all his fingers anymore. So what鈥檚 poor little Woody to do if Meyer dies? Is there life for Woody after Meyer? It raises the question that, no doubt, Burkett himself has pondered: what happens to all of his gorgeously, lovingly built puppets if he decides to stop pulling their strings? Avenue Q, coming back this season to the Arts Club, does puppet sex but The Daisy Theatre does puppet existential angst.
Some of the delights: seeing all the puppets hanging in the shadows before the show 鈥� a cabaret of sorts 鈥� for starts. Waiting their turn, are they nervous, anxious, excited? And will they even be called upon because Burkett mixes it up every night. Not all of them will make an entrance. As Burkett tells us, 鈥淚鈥檓 gonna make s*** up tonight鈥� and to some extent, The Daisy Theatre is improvised.
What Burkett can鈥檛 control are those he 鈥渧olunteers鈥� to help out. And these make for some of the funniest moments. Good sport Clayton, prone on the little stage, endured scrawny Esm茅 dabbling her little wooden hand in the area of his groin while saying, 鈥淐layton, I don鈥檛 think you鈥檙e a eunuch.鈥� Burkett has a way of choosing just the right guys 鈥� always guys, so don鈥檛 worry, ladies. Mouth to mouth with a puppet? That, too.
In spite of all the puppets, what we really go to see is Burkett himself. He鈥檚 always visible, open, engaging, funny, smart and vulnerable. He even surprises himself, obviously, with some of his ad-libs. The night I saw the show, when one of the volunteers looked up at Burkett, the puppet cracked us all up with, 鈥淲hat鈥檙e you looking up there for? My tits are down here.鈥� Even Burkett seemed surprised at what had just come out of his mouth.
Burkett, a national treasure, is naughty but he鈥檚 also nice. Who but Burkett can get away with the dearest little puppet (Schnitzel) telling an audience, 鈥淚 love you鈥�? We love Schnitzel, who some day might actually get the wings he so desperately wants; and 麻豆传媒映画loves Burkett, too.
The Daisy Theatre is not for children; it鈥檚 a 19+ audience and drinks are allowed in the theatre 鈥� not that you鈥檒l need one to make this a memorable night at the Cultch. The Daisy Theatre sold out all its shows last year so don鈥檛 waste a minute. If you don鈥檛 hurry, you may have to pull some strings to get a ticket.
The Daisy Theatre runs until Oct. 12 at the Cultch. For tickets and details, call 604-251-1363 or go to .
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