Annie Luján & Veronica Hortigüela in MONKS | Photo by Audrianna Martin Del Campo
Back in the winter of 2019, I was at the Revue Cinema for Dumpster Racoon’s CATS singalong. As the movie began, surrounded by about two-hundred cosplay cat-people, I found myself immersed in a unified field of theatre-kid energy as we all began meowing in unison. Our individual minds had snapped. We surrendered our dignity. Amid the throng, I belted “Magical Mr. Mistoffelees” and “Memory” flat and off-key. It was glorious.
Veronica Hortigüela and Annie Luján, my Brothers, may have transcended the magic of the CATS singalong. Experiencing MONKS, my brain snapped again. The delirium was so great that when a microphone was dramatically thrust into my face, I didn’t even realize I was being asked my name. (In all fairness, Luján’s interrogation was in the form of Gregorian chant.) So I, uh, found myself singing again—a weird, sustained note, right into her astonished face while the crowd stared on in baffled silence. She absorbed my cryptic awkwardness and channelled it. One of the many divine aspects of this show is that you can’t be labelled a fool here. Or rather, we are all fools here!
Without spoiling its majestic mischief, here’s the deal: Hortigüela and Luján play two Franciscan monks. We know them as Brother. We, their gathered audience and esteemed guests, are also Brothers. They christen us (Brother Plaid, Brother Hat, Brother Critic…) and invite us into their humble monastery.
There are lentils and bread. A dusty book of rules. An ass!
Dressed in robes, sporting bald caps with fringe and one cheap moustache, these Brothers are trying so hard to impress us. Jittery, high-strung, bawdy and zealous; these clowns are an endearing pair. Their dynamic with each other is amusing enough, but it is their interactions with us that are truly rapturous.
Stuff falls from the ceiling and gets tossed into the air and we shout outlandish things and hold random stuff and conjure a chaotic storm and that part in particular made my arms sore but I couldn’t stop because the Brothers are relying on us to hold up our end of this ridiculous bargain and I’m sorry is that a donkey oh my god it’s so damn adorable and wait you want me to do what?
That’s MONKS.
Is MONKS art? I mean, it has to be at least art since it’s aiming beyond it. Is MONKS civilized? Pffft. Don’t waste a monk’s time. Grab an ass and ride it into the night!
You may get wet.
Hortigüela and Luján must be exhausted. Their performances take them up, down, over, around, through and back again. In addition to the strain of also managing us, they are responsible for all of the other things too. Direction? Them. Sound, costumes, set and props? Them.
It is raw, reckless and has a truly unexpected emotional payoff. A quiet and deeply affecting finale makes it clear to us that—through all the mayhem, mess and madness—our time together is truly precious.
I’m sorry it’s sold out and that the run is so short. There is a waiting list. Good luck. They are coming back though… right? Right?!!!
MONKS
running February 26 to March 2, 2025
The Theatre Centre, BMO Incubator (1115 Queen St. W)
running time: 75 minutes
Veronica Hortigüela & Annie Luján in MONKS | Photo by Audrianna Martin Del Campo