Writing about this dark little jewel of a show feels like spilling a secret — but what the hey. Its brilliant mess of a heroine, Pearle Harbour, would doubtless do the same if she were in my position.
The venue is a tiny bolthole on the mezzanine level of the Fairmont Royal York, kitted out as a fully functional, nautical-themed watering hole. (I’m still wondering if it was already there, and if so, how did I not know? Is this a Brigadoon bar?)
The audience of 25 sits cheek by jowl at bar tables and on a banquette bench, with a couple of short rows of barstools up the back. A Fairmont server peddles pricey pre-show drinks, replaced for the show itself by an actor-bartender (Sam Kruger) who’s a ringer for Steve Buscemi. A crash of thunder, a sizzling waver of lights: “It’s going to be one of those nights,” Kruger intones (lighting design is by Rebecca Ballerin, sound design by Kruger).
And then, indeed, Pearle Harbour Walks into a Bar. Or rather, lurches: she’s half in the bag, rained-on, and fussing with an oversized bubble umbrella; the audience members she doesn’t sprinkle in that lazzi, she hits a few beats later with an old-style seltzer bottle. And yup, there’s a raunchy joke about getting wet.
You’ll get sung to, you may get walked over, and you’ll be peppered with gags that range from corny to salty to dad, many layered with clever double-meanings (she came into the bar to stay dry… shame about the whisky shots).
What pulls this all together is Pearle herself, the brassy, life-worn drag alter ego of creator-performer Justin Miller, and damn, does she look fab. Miller himself designed the outfit, a silken pantsuit from which Pearle appears to have forgotten the pants, revealing fishnet stockings and a great pair of gams underneath.
The overall theme is compulsion: Pearle comes in spraying anxiety because she can’t find an outlet for her phone (so we become her outlet, badump-cha). While internet addiction is not news, the way the show comes at it is thoughtful, layering in references to other forms of displacement (that whisky) and picking away at the root causes of such dependence (speaking of daddy).
Musical director Greg Morrison (of Drowsy Chaperone renown) curated and reorchestrated booze-themed songs for Pearle to croon (sometimes with Kruger), from Lou Reed to the Cheers theme to Chappell Roan. Brecht/Weill/Hauptmann’s “Alabama Song” (as in, “Show Me the Way to the Next Whiskey Bar”) was my personal fave, for how thoroughly the performers and choreographer Alli Carrey fill the whole space with choreography.
Things get increasingly unhinged (you’ll never look at a bowl of bar nuts the same way) and some of the thematic veers almost lost me, as when things get Biblical at a gay disco. But Pearle’s presence and narration more than holds the 60 minutes together, as does Ballerin’s tight direction, and the audience at the matinee performance I attended was all in, down to a very touching final singalong.
Asking Pearle to animate this particular little space was a brilliant stroke of commissioning and producing on the Luminato Festival’s part, one that’s paid off in a show that on the one hand feels deeply rooted in its location (and sold out its whole Toronto run), but would also travel well to quirky spots in other festival cities. And it should: Pearle deserves to go viral.
Pearle Harbour Walks into a Bar runs at the Fairmont Royal York until June 27. More information is available here.
Intermission reviews are independent and unrelated to Intermission’s partnered content. Learn more about Intermission’s partnership model here.
WRITTEN BY
Karen Fricker
Karen Fricker is Intermission’s editorial director and adjunct professor of Dramatic Arts at Brock University. She has worked as a critic in Toronto, London (UK), Dublin, and New York City, and has a PhD in theatre studies from Trinity College, Dublin. Sustaining the field of theatre criticism in our digital age is a big focus of her work, through academic research projects and training/mentorship ventures including Page Turn and Youareacritic.com. She is co-director of the international research network Circus and its Others, and has researched the Eurovision Song Contest for two glorious decades and counting.
LEARN MORE