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If death is a certainty in life, then letting out a big huge dead fart in the days after passing is also a sure thing. Thus, yes, death can be funny, says , the writer, director and actor behind the solo Fringe show Everybody Dies in December.
The fictional play, which is inspired by the real-life stories of her funeral home-owning mother, features a scene about the noises and gases that come out of our bodies after we die. 鈥淏asically, the body farts,鈥� Kenny says, casually.
Dubbed an 鈥渋ntimate, weird little show鈥� by its creator, Everybody Dies in December is an homage to the popular HBO series Six Feet Under. Kenny鈥檚 character, Claire, is named after the youngest and most in the Fisher family, which owns and operates a funeral parlour in the TV show.
In Kenny鈥檚 story, Claire continues with the family business and becomes an undertaker. As the audience observes Claire鈥檚 conversations with the dead bodies, she goes through a crisis of faith. 鈥淒oes she want to live in a small town [where] she knows everyone who she comes across?鈥� Kenny asks.
Chock full of black humour, Kenny says her show is done with 鈥渁 lot of heart.鈥� Death, she says, 鈥渉appens every day all the time to everyone. It鈥檚 the one certainty that we have in life鈥t鈥檚 the details surrounding it that we don鈥檛 [control].鈥�
Which could be why it鈥檚 emerged as a bit of a theme among this year鈥檚 Fringe Festival programming. Of the 100-odd shows on deck this Sept. 7-17, there are at least seven comedies exploring the subject of death, and a handful that are more serious.
So, given our fascination with it, why haven鈥檛 us mortals learned how to talk more openly about death?
Death is something we 鈥渄on鈥檛 want to look at, or are scared to look at,鈥� says Kenny.
And that鈥檚 where comedy comes in.
Take 鈥檚 Nobody鈥檚 Boy, in which a father 鈥� a stereotypical alpha male disconnected from his feelings 鈥� tries to avoid the reality of his son鈥檚 pending death. As the solo show unfolds, the audience witnesses a series of therapy sessions involving the father, with some standup comedy sets woven in.
Kokoska, who is a Vancouver-based therapist and performer, uses his show as a way of exploring how people both avoid and tune in to their emotions.
鈥淲hat I鈥檝e done in [this and my] previous shows, and really just in my life, is try to get people to access their feelings鈥� For some people feelings are like death, it鈥檚 such a scary thing to feel these big feelings unfold, that we do so much work to put stuff on top of it so we don鈥檛 have to feel them at all,鈥� he explains. 鈥淭hat can be a way of us looking out for ourselves in the short term, but in the long term [it鈥檚] not so good.鈥�
Kokoska鈥檚 play shows the benefits of surrendering to and processing grief.
鈥淚t鈥檚 not fun when you鈥檙e there in the moment and feeling sadness and grief, but there is a feeling that feels good at the end of it,鈥� he says. You realize, 鈥溾�極h yeah, I can feel this in full and I still survived it. I felt it, and not only did I not die, I felt a little bit better at the end of it.鈥欌��
Kokoska鈥檚 says his use of comedy to explore death is partly inspired by the internationally acclaimed standup comedian , who encourages comedians to take people to dark places within themselves, and then make them laugh.
鈥淚鈥檓 definitely not trying to make light of death, it鈥檚 just a way of managing something big and scary like death,鈥� he says.
Comedian is also exploring life and death at the Fringe. Now in his second year of touring, Santiago鈥檚 standup set, The Immaculate Big Bang, uses the convergence of his father鈥檚 death and the birth of his daughter to explore the intricate workings of the universe. The show is an earnest exploration of quantum mechanics and religion, within which sits a central question: What happens after death?
鈥淭here are so many different ways of looking at life and death and existence鈥� religion gives you different options of how to think about life and death,鈥� he offers, but 鈥渇rom Einstein鈥檚 point of view鈥� there鈥檚 no difference between past, present and future, so you know that my father is still very much alive because of the space-time continuum.
鈥淎nd that brings very little comfort,鈥� he adds, ruefully, 鈥渂ut it is a way of thinking about it.鈥�
Santiago says that losing a parent, or having a child, can stir up deep feelings in a person, including a longing for frank conversations about the afterlife, and frustration with the status quo.
鈥淵ou get a lot of sort of socially acceptable, mostly perfunctory superficial [conversations about] death,鈥� says Santiago. But, as the person who鈥檚 lost someone, the conversations continue on in your head. 鈥淎re you going to accept that it鈥檚 over, they鈥檙e completely gone?...Or are they still somehow in your life?鈥� he continues. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a very vulnerable place to go and your conclusions, your thoughts on it, your exploration might be entirely different [from] what the other person is saying鈥� you have to be extremely open and accepting of whatever comes up.鈥� 听
鈥� The runs Sept. 7-17. Everybody Dies in December runs at various times on Sept. 9, 11-12, 14, 16-17 at Studio 1398 (1398 Cartwright St.). .
