A unique Canada Day standup comedy show where the sky’s the limit

The first time I performed on Canada Day was on Parliament Hill almost 30 years ago, on a massive stage, steps away from the Peace Tower. The audience was about 100,000 exuberant people, many of whom were draped in Canadian flags, long before that image would be co-opted in the same space decades later by outraged protesters with hot tubs, bouncy castles and suspect spelling. My short, bilingual set mostly served  as a buffer before an official countdown to the start of a live national TV special.

I walked off immediately after hearing “ONE!,” grateful that my 10 minutes had gone over relatively well, and relieved, since I’d just broken the cardinal rule bred into the bones of most standups: never — ever — take a gig that doesn’t come with four walls, a ceiling and a seated audience. That this outdoor performance didn’t devolve into something resembling an auctioneer rattling off bids from inside a giant, sound-proof aquarium, had less to do with comic skill and more to do with a generous audience basking in a celebratory day — and a short workweek. I was lucky, and I knew it. And I’d never again stray from the comic’s four-walls-and-a-ceiling edict again.

Until, that is, my Toronto-based agent called in early 2022, asking if I were available for a July 1 show on, yup, an outdoor stage: The Grove Theatre’s Comedy Night on Canada Day.

Now, here is where I could expound on my reasons for accepting this gig, by waxing philosophic about my growth as an artist since that July 1 in the mid-90s, and how I’d matured into an accomplished standup capable of adapting to any environment — in or outdoors — blah blah blah. But, really, my initial enthusiasm was fuelled not by the figurative miles I’d accumulated as a touring standup comedian, but by the literal few miles I’d need to travel to a venue inside my city on Canada Day. (Since moving to Kawartha Lakes almost 25 years ago, I’ve learned that many local residents say “:miles” instead of kilometres. More on that genuine appreciation on all things local later). “Edict, sccchhhmedict!” I told my agent as I accepted the offer and he, possibly, wondered if I were properly pronouncing “schmedict.”

But my decision to play The Grove wasn’t all driven by impulse and soaring gas prices. I’d seen one professional standup show at this brand new theatre in Fenelon last summer. (Yes, just Fenelon. Locals don’t have to add Falls, cuz we know what we’re referrin’ to).

At the time, I remember distinctly thinking, “Live standup comedy shouldn’t work, here.”  But, as I watched the show from the back of the room . . . er . . . space, I discovered it does. And very, very well.

Nicole Mitchell, the theatre’s affable general manager, openly admits she, too, was initially “nervous” about mounting standup shows at The Grove. “When you go into a comedy club,” she explains, “it’s often a basement.”

Mitchell is an astute observer of an oft-misunderstood art form; standup is, indeed, synonymous with “basement” — too many of which, I’ve witnessed first-hand, exude an aura that leave you wondering if the cops are going to storm in to bust up an illegal gaming room. 

Which is why The Grove, as a standup venue, is such a breath of fresh air — literally. “As open as the space is, it still is rather enclosed,” Mitchell says about the enchanting venue, which looks like it was lifted from the pages of Narnia, but is really nestled in the woods adjacent to the Fenelon arena. “The trees are filled in and you can’t really see through them . . . so you feel like you’re in a private, intimate space.”  Here, she pauses, then adds, “Even though you’re outdoors!”

So, the trees are, really, those all-essential walls comedians crave. And the ceiling? Well, when the sun went down, the moon and stars served to close in this theatre in a warm, inviting manner no basement ever could. It meant the standups, all of whom I’ve seen perform dozens of times, seemed to embrace the unique communal feel of the venue, instead of struggling to transform it into that aforementioned comedy club atmosphere with a more confrontational comedian vs. audience vibe.

Part of this community-inspired quality could be attributed to the physical nature of The Grove, specifically, the stage’s placement in relation to the audience. Typically, a comedy club stages —  and, by default, the standups performing on them — are a few feet above the audience, contributing to a more hierarchal relationship between comic and crowd. The Grove, conversely, with its raked seating, has the performer literally at eye level with most of the audience.  Says Mitchell about this configuration that I’m especially looking forward to on July 1, “The artists are really sucked into the first few rows.”

There was a time when I shunned standup gigs in my backyard, wary of possibly bumping into an audience member at the farmers’ market or Lindsay-Ops landfill the morning after a, uh, less than stellar show. But that angst eased after I learned to structure my act on these local shows with material borne of a genuine familiarity with Kawartha Lakes and its quirks — something Mitchell also suggested I take advantage of on July 1 for her show.

“Definitely helpful to know the area,” she points out. “Our audiences always love a personalized set.”  

And then there’s the pent-up need for audiences to laugh again.

“Because of COVID,” says Mitchell, “everyone has often been cooped up and miserable. And this kind of show is just such a wonderful release, where you can feel more safe — outdoors.”

Denis Grignon is a professional standup comedian who lives near Dunsford, and the producer of The Advocate Podcast: Stories from Kawartha Lakes. He performs July 1 at the Grove Theatre along with Rick Currie and Jim McNally, two comedians Grignon started out with in Ottawa many July firsts ago. Tickets to Comedy Night on Canada Day are $35 and $65, available by visiting grovetheatre.ca. The Grove Theatre is located in Fenelon Falls. Or, if you’re local, simply Fenelon.