Eli Yaschuk and Rain Matkin in In My Room, Fringe 2026. Photo supplied
In My Room (Stage 17, Grindstone Theatre)
By Liz Nicholls,
In My Room, by a pair of this town’s hottest young triple-threats Eli Yaschuk and Rain Matkin, is, in a quirky, comically literal way, a chamber musical. There is an actual chamber: it’s Eli’s bedroom, specifically his bed, which he has been unable, or unwilling, or a bit of both, to leave in three weeks.
Eli is not alone, however (what musical theatre artist ever is, in truth?). His best friend/ personal assistant Rain is there. And so is Elaine (Elaine Dunbar), his live-in personal accompanist at the keyboard. And we are there, too, as guests invited to his “three-week-iversary” as arranged by the obliging Rain (with festive streamers from Party City).
Is this a retreat from the horribly screwed-up world? A protest? A time-out? A tantrum? A dream pyjama party? Hmm. There’s a worldly mystery attached to Eli’s pj-clad living arrangements, to be untucked from the duvet in the course of In My Room. Eli lets his phone ring through to voice mail; on opening night the two rats from Rat Academy (Dayna Lea Hoffmann and Katie) left him a message, with an invitation to play pickleball.
Meanwhile, though, the situation lends itself to … performance. Eli produces a microphone; Rain has one too. Elaine, who’s a top-drawer piano player, springs into action with complex and appealing arrangements. So In My Room is an eccentric free-associative cabaret of sorts, with a bouncy mattress stage. And it’s directed by bossy Eli (what musical theatre artist doesn’t, secretly, want to direct, and stage manage?).
It starts with the dreamy Brian Wilson song from which this new piece borrows its title. And it moves on to songs from another Eli’s “super-pepper-upper” place, movie musicals. Nuns figure prominently, then improvised puppets (provided by the resourceful Rain), with Eli in his dream role as Maria.
Well, how do you solve a problem like Maria? This is a show that doesn’t fret about seques, to say the least. There’s a kind of weirdness to Eli blithely repurposing I Am Unworthy of Your Love with Jesus as the hot poster boy (what musical theatre artist doesn’t want to sing Sondheim?). There’s a lovely version of Joni Mitchell’s Blue that’ll get under your skin, too.
Anyhow, Yaschuk and Matkin are charming performers, with Dunbar as an amusingly wry, skeptical third. Rosy-cheeked chipper Eli is not exactly a classic case of depression, but escapism is an urge we all understand, at our moment in time. And this show, in its oddball way, is a response to our shared feeling that the outside world, toxic in every way, has become a public enemy. Bring on the music.
