“The first word is always the hardest.”
Even as I first entered the George Ignatieff Theatre, Jamie was already waiting for me, grumpily shuffling sheets of paper around her bedroom floor, lost in a futile search for the first word from which all others would flow. Even before the show began, I knew her: I’ve been friends with her, I’ve been in love with her, heck, I’ve been her. And as soon as the first line was spoken, I was spellbound. The show is Concrete Kid playing at this year’s Toronto Fringe Festival, and it is the opinion of this reviewer that Blue Dagger Theatre has wrought something truly special, almost magical, out of the disparate fragments of modern life and love.
Our heroine is Jamie, teenage poet and lesbian islanded in a sea of stubborn suburban straightness. Her adoptive parents, praying all the while for God to explain why He has cursed them with a deviant daughter, intent to ship her off to a rural aunt for the summer. Jamie, armed with only a fake I.D. and a concrete will, is determined to make the most of what may be her last night of freedom.
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