Preview of a festival: youth abounding at 2024 IndyFringe

 The august setting of Indiana Landmarks'  Grand Hall offered a nice upgrade for an advance look at August's main theatrical dazzle here: the IndyFringe Fest, whose history has had much to do with putting Mass Ave on many a local destination fun list.

Previous previews I've attended have been under a tent outside Station No. 2 Firefighters Museum on the

Skipping, leaping, floating: Snowflake in action

Avenue near one of downtown's busiest intersections. Without distractions, Wednesday night's performances unfolded onstage under the decorative organ pipes of the Grand Hall. 

They were meticulously timed at two minutes each under the enthusiastic control of "Snowflake," a mime/dancer/timekeeper of grace, verve, and surefire comedy improv skills. Two others shared emcee duties, near the stage, from the back, and up and down the aisles. There was always something to look at, with quips and information thrown in during brief pauses between Fringe performers.

Miking was dependable, even though some preview acts eschewed amplification and occasionally lacked vocal projection to make up for that decision. On the basis of brief previews, it's risky to assess the strength of the shows that will take place on and around the Avenue as well as two new locations: Fountain Square (White Rabbit Cabaret) and the Circle City Industrial Complex (Dance Kaleidoscope Studio). But giving the prospective festival patrons such a speed-dating opportunity may be the best way to build excitement for the 11 days to come.

About three dozen of the 70 scheduled acts strutted their stuff Wednesday night. Inevitably, some of the previews afforded more insight than others, or were simply more inviting. On the whole, previews involving one actor charmed more and shed more light. (Anyone who's ever done actual speed-dating is invited to nod knowingly.) 

The zanies of "Camp Summer Camp" encourage sing-along.

This impression doesn't mean that group shows should be easier to avoid. My advice is to go to the short descriptions the program includes of each show and follow any available links to learn more. I've hemmed and hawed about whether to leave mini-reviews here, but have decided to shrug off that duty even when my preview notes and memories seem clear the morning after.

What impressed me most as a grizzled Fringe veteran was the youthfulness of the performers, from Snowflake on through the scheduled Fringers. The pace of the preview show was astounding, even more so than in its outside predecessors. 

To see a host of theatrical talent bound up onto the stage, compactly gesture, cavort and talk as if their lives depended on it, then (when necessary) agreeably get hustled off when their time was up, was invigorating. I felt I was absorbing some of all that energy, whether or not any given act impelled me to attend its hourlong full show between today and August 25. 

I was reminded, oddly enough, of the time I watched the Broadway legend George Abbott leap onto the

The stuff of legend

stage at the Stratford Festival before a mid-80s opening-night performance of "The Boys from Syracuse," which Abbott directed on the Great White Way in 1938. Among his production team was another George, a choreographer name of Balanchine.

When the Stratford full house erupted in tumultuous applause as Abbott turned, smiled, and waved, I felt I was viewing a living slice of theater history. Abbott was 98 years old. I couldn't be sure, but it looked as if he'd taken the stairs two at a time. He would die at 107. Youthfulness is perpetual in great theater, I remind myself, despite being only 20 years younger now than Abbott was then. 

The FringeFest preview show tapped into the ageless attraction of theater, and if you choose adroitly at the 2024 festival, you are likely to have an Abbott-like spring in your step. You might even call it love, despite the Rodgers and Hart skepticism in the most enduring song of  "The Boys from Syracuse": "This can't be love because I feel so well — no sobs, nor sorrows, no sighs." Go with that feeling.

[Photos/ Indy Ghost Light]