Toronto Star Critic’s Pick, Toronto Fringe Patrons’ Pick Winner and Winnipeg Fringe Jenny Award Winner

Review: Torontro Star CRITIC’S PICK

Long live Adam Bailey, Fringe veteran and master storyteller. With just a single chair and minimal lighting cues, he holds our attention with a tale about the three times he supposedly “died.” These mock deaths cover a long period of his life, from a childhood car trip with his mother and her then boyfriend during a winter storm to the time decades later when he was on his way to teach a special needs drama class and collapsed on the subway. Trying to describe his stories is impossible, because Bailey finds the right tone and the most telling details to sustain our interest and make us see how the past informs the present. His most affecting insights come near the end, when he examines how he was affected by the deaths, in the same year, of his cat and his mother. Funny, profound and three-hankie moving: this Fringe show has it all. — Glenn Sumi

Review: The Grind

Robyn Grant-Moran

Turning stories about death into a laugh-out-loud celebration of life

Adam Bailey isn’t dead yet, but he’s had his brushes with the reaper. Three times, to be exact.

In this solo show, Bailey shares these stories the grief of losing his mom and others. He does it with a heartfelt reverence for his loved ones and enough rizz (do the kids still say “rizz”?) to fill the stage with nothing more than himself and a chair.

How do we face the uncomfortable reality of being middle-aged and seeing loved ones starting to die faster than any of us would like?

Bailey embraces this sobering season of life with humour and insight. The result is a charming and laugh-out-loud funny celebration of life, love and mortality. Bring tissues! 

Alberta Youth Theatre Collective – Review

Adam Bailey – A “Gay Stuart McLean” By Augustus Williams

We’ve all thought of what it must be like to die. Now, imagine actually experiencing it. Three times. Adam Bailey leads us through the story of the three death experiences he’s had in this funny, gut-wrenching, and deeply personal story of his life. For a play about death, Bailey knew how and when to place his comedic hits for the absolute most payoff. As he says at the beginning of the show, it’s like stand up comedy with less jokes. “Not no jokes – just fewer.” A specific type of gallows-esque humour that Bailey pulls off perfectly, the macabre puns never left the audience feeling uncomfortable – I would even say it made us feel even more at ease. Don’t misunderstand me though – this show is not a comedy. Bailey bravely explores some dark moments of his life (and death), such as his mother’s homophobic boyfriend, his far-too-close call with COVID, and his grandfather’s jarringly sudden passing. To take punches like that that you’ve lived through and put them on stage for anyone to see is a daunting challenge, but Bailey manages it in a way that still feels intimate and personal. Adam Bailey: My Three Deaths points out the absurd and often hilarious nature of death, while still reminding us how important it is to cherish the people we love while there’s still time.

Istvan Dugalin Theatre Reviewer

Adam Bailey is a solid Fringe choice any year, including this one. He’s carved a reputable niche for himself and he’s so good at what he does. I enjoy the process of warming to each new show. Because, here’s the thing, whenever he starts, every damn time, I always think: Here we go, what’s it gonna be this time? A little on guard at the top, but he always wins me over. It’s his superpower. And Adam Bailey: My Three Deaths is an especially resonant example.

In response to a year of deaths—not his own, obviously, yet!—he meditates on three episodes from his life in which his own death was an imminent—or, at least, uncomfortably adjacent—phenomenon. Despite how intensely the format here suggests stand-up comedy, he assures us that there will be fewer jokes. “Not no jokes, just fewer.” And this is accurate.

His precarious birth, a bizarre coincidence following a snowbound accident, and a freak viral (not the fun kind) episode that landed him prostate on a TTC subway floor. Each of these scenarios are inherently compelling as events, but it is the details and quirks of Bailey’s delivery that affords them a heightened drama. The interstitial anecdotes (on the same subject) between the titular deaths are also vivid and engrossing.

Some points key of interest: Belleville, his mother’s courtship to his biological father, one of her homophobic biker boyfriends (“name redacted”) and her mischievous gallows humour (and his own). His whole bit about her “famous last words” is a delightfully dark and ridiculous running gag—a facetious, and playfully cruel gift to her son and his husband (as only a dying loved one can get away with) that just keeps giving.

Bailey’s manic, naturally likeable and propulsive energy—always on the cusp of getting ahead of himself—drives his shows, so there isn’t a lot of theatrical artifice here. He’s dextrous enough with just his chair and understated shifts in light from segment to segment. He allows himself, though, some striking visuals during the final episode in which he gives some theatrical perspective-skewing and impressionistic little vignettes to evoke the experience of a rather frightening medical emergency.

A closing anecdote about his cat, and the specific way his furry friend helped him to process his grief, hit me right in the feels.

Jenny Theatre Revue: The Buzz

Adam Bailey’s new show centers on three times in his life where he died (or was at least presumed dead). Those stories are just part of his personal journey in looking at death and grief after having to face three deaths of family members within a year. He really brings the audience along, sharing all these stories from different parts of his life as well as some very keen observations about how society deals with the end of life. While sad at times, there is enough humour (including some delving into the appropriateness of humour around death) to make a very engaging and well crafted performance. Bravo!

Murray Hunter

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