Go see this show. Don’t go see it because you’ve been meaning to add performance poetry to your casual conversation repertoire, or because his stunning (read: plain text, black on white) poster had you at hello. See it because I’m one of the last people in this city who would go see a poet, let alone transmit the notion that you should too. Or, to put it in a much less self-absorbed fashion, go see it because it’s too good to miss.

Rolls participates in a tradition of performance art which is not known for its subtlety. By tackling the well-trodden paths of modernity’s woes and the drawbacks of consumerism, he risks telling the audience what they already know. While Rolls eases us into the material with some very accessible commentary (the show is, after all, called "How I Learnt to Stop Worrying and Love the Mall), he soon ventures into unapologetically silly, abstract, and genuinely poetic territory. More importantly, he doesn’t bark at the audience, accusing us of belonging to a world he is about to defecate upon. Instead, he spends the better part of an hour inviting us into his mind, unrepentant about the clutter and the dust. Wedding substance with entertainment, he’s lighthearted about his neuroses and poignant in his analysis.

During his performance, Rolls announces several times that he is a poet. While his motivations are not mine to determine, I can say it had a peculiar effect on me. Is he reminding himself or the audience? The physicality he brings to the stage certainly does not summon the caricature of a poet. On the other hand – and despite Rolls’s cheeky insistence – he’s never truly low-brow. There’s something of the Roman orator about him as he flails about the stage, defying you to check your watch (I didn’t). Balancing clever word play with genuine insight, Rolls both prods and charms his audience.

Venue 4
4247 St-Dominique
$9 + $2
1 hour

18 Jun @ 13.00
19 Jun @ 23.30
20 Jun @ 15.30
21 Jun @ 20.30
22 Jun @ 12.15

Anna Trowbridge did not help with this review.