Fat Ham is more resonant and insightful than it needs to be, given how outrageously fun it is. James Ijames‘ comedy is—strap in!—a Southern Black Backyard Barbecue Retelling of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Presented by Canadian Stage, director Philip Akin’s production is an exhilarating holistic achievement, honouring both the camp aesthetics and genuine emotionality of Ijames mischievous text. It shows you such a good time, you don’t even notice how invested you’ve become in this funhouse mirror reflection of the classic tragedy.
Dressed in black and half-heartedly blowing up balloons for this shin-dig honouring his mother’s marriage to his uncle, Juicy (Peter Fernandes) isn’t feeling it. When the ghost of his father Pap (David Alan Anderson) emerges, draped ridiculously in a bed sheet from the clothesline, and tasks Juicy with avenging his murder, Juicy must negotiate family dynamics—both goofy and grave—to assert himself.
What follows is a whirlwind of flamboyant antics as Fernandes’ charismatic and endearing Juicy confronts his uncle/stepfather Rev (Anderson in a dual role) while guests populate this madcap barbecue. And the truth, as they say, will out! Like a scandalous history in Tallahassee!—one of many laugh-out-loud bombshells this show has in its arsenal. Though everyone seems vaguely aware of our existence just beyond the fourth wall, only Juicy breaks through it to have a direct relationship to us—contextualizing the unfolding drama and sometimes quoting the very play his life now echoes.
As Rev and Pap, Anderson gives us two distinct, compelling personalities that share an irksome common trait—an obnoxiously domineering masculine energy they wield with self-satisfied showmanship, a performance of inherited patriarchy. It is a legacy Juicy isn’t equipped for and doesn’t want for himself. Even his mother Tedra (Raven Dauda), who makes a grand spectacle of enthusiastically hyper-sexualizing herself to align with it, begins to show vulnerable cracks in her trashy facade.
Not that queerness should have to mean something narratively, but it does feel emblematic here. Juicy is a self-aware, angst-ridden representative of a generation who wants to escape ingrained patterns of toxic behaviour. Virgilia Griffith’s Opal is a tom-boyish sidekick for Juicy, hiding the fancy dress she has worn to please her prim and prissy mother Rabby (Nehassaiu deGannes) under a hoodie that suits her better. Larry (Tawiah M’Carthy) is trying so hard to be straight, holding himself at attention, his manner as starched as his naval uniform. M’Carthy’s portrait is especially achy and it is an electrifying sight to see him finally bruk out.
And then there is the affable, uninhibited Tio (Tony Ofori); smoking his weed and chilling throughout all the drama. I love Tio so much and Ofori is truly adorable as this goofball sage. I was especially taken with his psychedelic monologue about a kinder world, featuring some kinky gingerbread shenanigans—a rapturous bit of performance art that is as genuinely beautiful as it is hilariously outlandish.
The show also features two karaoke sequences with both songs performed in full. Tedra’s “Tell It To My Heart” and Juicy’s “Creep” go on a far longer than we expect, become awkward, and then persist past cringe into an absurdist spectacle where emotional beats play out. These are also a visual opportunity for lighting designer André du Toit to let his otherwise warm summer wash erupt into garish, dancehall purples and pinks. Laura Warren’s projected lyrics with bouncing ball give the audience an opportunity to sing along if the mood strikes.
Brandon Kleiman’s set—featuring aluminum siding, astroturf and string lights extending up into the rafters—feels decidedly cartoonish with its summery residential vibes. In a clever nod to the Shakespearean source, the deck seems to subtly reference a thrust stage, allowing our colourful characters to literally trod the boards.
Fat Ham has feels in all the right places and is an absolute blast.


