Wonderful Joe: a neighbourhood genius tells our stories
24 Oct 2024 - Photos by Ian Jackson

As Metrolinx churns its way through my neighbourhood in pursuit of a fabled subway line somewhere in the distant future, long-term residents and businesses have been displaced, vanished, in favour of condo buildings which are also in a distant time ahead. It is a desolate wake that progress leaves in the gap between a vibrant present and a projected gleaming future. The set for Wonderful Joe is built around a sliding panel that reveals an empty gaping pit at the centre, the entire structure buttressed by a collection of rainbow-coloured garbage bags full of discards. Over and around the construction scaffold-like, graffitied structure scampers Ronnie Burkett (Little Dickens, Forget Me Not, The Daisy Theatre) bringing a neighbourhood of characters to life as they tell their stories before they are gentrified out of existence. Letting us know they were, they are, here. And politely, or not so politely, requesting that we ask how they are instead of what they are. It is a melancholy, heartbreakingly hilarious story that is happening seemingly everywhere, with Wonderful Joe's tale redolent of the legendary mythos of Church Street and other once bustling gay districts.

Joe Pickle is an elderly gay man who lives in top floor walk-up with his also elderly dog, 'Mister.' The super shows up to give Joe his eviction notice, one month until the building is torn down for condos. Joe takes it magnanimously, appearing more concerned that the super will be out of a job, and decides to set out on a final grand adventure. Which he does, exiting the building using a classic Marx Brothers sight gag. Everyone on the street knows Joe and everyone has a story to tell. All of the stories, from the salacious to the petulant and operatic, are spellbinding, with a cast of characters ranging from a romantically inclined butcher, to an aging drag queen, to the butch beer swilling Tooth Fairy. All of them have opinions on how the world is changing, all of them are struggling to adapt without losing their uniqueness and magic. Wonderful Joe is a hymn, bolstered by John Alcorn's atmospheric score filled with haunting vocals, to that which is unique in being human. Particularly an LGBTQ+ human, which, considering the sheer number of letters, is universal.

Burkett has dazzled us with his puppetry skills, deconstructed his puppet artistry, and casually flaunted his genius for our amusement and edification. With Wonderful Joe, he glides into the background and foregrounds the characters, seeming to encourage and coax rather than manipulate—despite one meta joke—from the dark. The puppets are so real, so imbued with tiny mannerisms and movements, that they carry off monologues that would tax a less wooden Shakespearean player. By not drawing attention to himself, by concealing his mischievous nature, Burkett demonstrates his irrefutable genius. It is not just the physicality of the characters, it is their vocal tics and differences. There is never any confusion about which puppet is speaking, and if one tears one's eyes away for a moment to peer in to the shadows above, Burkett can be seen lovingly morphing from character to character with facial expressions that seem to transmit through the strings or up into the felt. It is spooky in the most delicious and awe-inspiring manner. 

Joe's grand adventure becomes an amble through the neighbourhood and a journey through Burkett's current concerns and observations. Some of the scenes meander, some are comedic, one even schematic, but when Joe's own story is teased out, too extraordinarily unique and common to reveal here, it is a masterpiece of the gay experience. Literature compressed and then proffered by tiny clay hands. Burkett is musing on the roles of chance, destiny and sexuality, of how friendships, however random or slight, become meaningful and powerful. A final chance encounter with a potential new friend, Joe's self-introduction is in itself a masterclass in puppetry, spins itself into celestial transcendence and a a final image that leaves the audience shaken to the core with its horrible beauty. It is a lot to risk for a showman, and puppetry can be treated like a gimmick, to put his heart so far forward and so nakedly. Burkett risks it and succeeds like only a showman genius with a big heart and nimble fingers can. May his neighbourhood, on and off stage, thrive forever.