THE BAKING SHOW SHOW: THE PLAY – WHAT HAPPENED IN THE KITCHEN?

Playwright Faly Mevamanana needed more help.

Her script, The Baking Show Show: The Play was developed through Ruby Slippers Theatre’s Advance Theatre Production Program. Presumably, there was input from several artists. Two dramaturges are credited. But I don’t see any evidence that anybody knew anything about script development.

In my experience, The Baking Show Show: The Play is boring, and, in my perception, there are structural reasons for that.

The script sets out to be a satire about reality TV, baking shows in particular. The underlying thematic target is an exploration of the futility of attempting to compensate for psychological issues through external accomplishments, through “winning” — as an artist, a baker, or whatever.

Fair enough.

In the narrative, Grace is astonished when she doesn’t make the cut in the first audition for the inaugural season of the Canadian version of The Baking Show so, when another finalist doesn’t show up for the second round of auditions, Grace assumes that finalist’s identity and becomes Lucille, which works: she gets on the show. Once Grace has committed to this moral compromise, it gets easier and easier for her to use ever more aggressive means to knock out her competition.

First problem: there is no reality base — or, if you prefer, internal logic — to any of this. It’s obvious that Grace will be found out; she must know that.

Besides, what’s the point? Where’s the satire? The Baking Show Show: The Play makes the observation that, on reality TV, the contestants’ backstories count. That’s why Grace plays up her nonexistent intimacy with her dad, who, in real life, puts her down at every opportunity. But who doesn’t know that backstories count? This is not a keen insight.

The biggest problem: for the longest time, there’s no accumulation, no meaningful development. Grace’s moral slide is unidirectional so there’s zero narrative tension and, until the final movement, Grace has no opportunities to learn from her mistakes — so neither do we.

The script also flatlines emotionally (until the very end). Grace’s relationship with her father — we hear him in voiceovers — is one, repetitive joke: he says mean things. When Grace-as-a-little-girl asks her dad why she doesn’t have friends he replies, “Friends are for winners, Gracie.” And that’s it, again and again.

All this said, three good things happen in the final movement — maybe the final ten minutes — of The Baking Show Show: The Play: Grace meets some real opposition from another contestant, which, at long last, creates narrative tension and forces her to reflect; Grace starts to lose touch with reality, which gives us something to figure out; and the development of Grace’s relationship with her dad at least feints in the direction of emotional resonance.

The production looks great, thanks largely to Julia Kim’s sugary pink set and stylin’, cartoonish props, and Alaia Hamer’s costume designs.

In the three-person cast, Andy Marie is a standout: in an inventive comic performance, they make several characters distinct. It’s always good to see Sharon Crandall onstage, although it’s too bad that, this time around, one of her characters is such an ageist stereotype. Mevamanana herself totally commits as Grace, which is the right thing to do.

But, as I said off the top, she needed more help with the script. As it stands, The Baking Show Show: The Play feels like a five-minute skit that’s been extended to an hour and a quarter for no apparent reason.

THE BAKING SHOW SHOW: THE PLAY by Faly Mevamanana. Directed by Jasmine Chen. A Ruby Slippers production in association with the Shadbolt Centre. At the Shadbolt Centre until February 7, then at Presentation House February 12 to 15. Tickets and information.

PHOTO CREDIT: As host and contestant, Sharon Crandell and Faly Mevamanana mug for the camera operator (Anna Brew.) (Photo by Ryan Alexander McDonald/Art Left Creative. Set by Julia Kim. Costume by Alaia Hamer. Lighting by Jonathan Kim.)

THERE’S MORE! You can get all my current reviews PLUS curated local, national, and international arts coverage in your inbox FREE every week if you subscribe to Fresh Sheet, the Newsletter. Just click that link. (Unsubscribe at any time. Super easy. No hard feelings.) Check it out.