Dear Michelle Kwan ★★★★★

he most incredible aspect of Dear Michelle Kwan, the riotously funny dark comedy by Christie Spessard, is that it’s Spessard’s first play. Whoosh-Bam! What a writing debut. She’s not alone in making a grand entrance: director Ryan Pangracs is making his debut as well. Together these two dynamos have created what seems destined to be one of the breakout hits of this year’s Fringe Festival, a confident and knowing satire that has real things to say underneath its endless laughs and triple lutzes.

This sharp-witted show about four figure skaters and their demonic coach Eve is delightfully wicked, a veritable modern-day Drop Dead Gorgeous on ice. It begins with a reverential ceremony for renowned ice skater Michelle Kwan, the “goddess of figure skating”, before moving immediately into the first rehearsal for the skaters’ upcoming holiday spectacular.

Eve’s ruthlessness takes seconds to surface. Almost immediately upon her arrival — in a fur coat, a sartorial homage to the brutal Russian coaches she insists on emulating — she asks her charges to hold their arms up in a T position for five minutes so that they’ll “be strong for lifts”. As she brandishes a lighter underneath the skaters’ arms lest they be tempted to lower them before time is up, she seeks to inspire.

EVE: What happens if you eat too much and skate too little?

ALL: You’ll be too fat to jump!

Quick scenes and short monologues — all directed to Kwan — fly by like Yuzuru Hanyu speeding across the rink, and Spessard manages to make each of the four young women distinct and fully realized. The script’s succinctness is dazzling; there’s nary a minute of chunky exposition holding the momentum back. Spessard is also a cast member, and a generous one at that. All five parts are great, and the entire company of excellent actresses — Hannah Breshears, Isabella Fay, Jasmyn Donya Molaei, and Skyler Sajewski — is clearly having a blast.

The direction is nearly flawless as well. Pangracs only has two chairs for a set but keeps everything in such motion that the audience gets engrossed in the world that’s been imagined for them. And just when you don’t think the show can climb any higher, out comes a skater dressed as a turkey skating to “Turkey Lurkey Time” from Promises, Promises. It’s all gold-medal work, and like a skater sitting in the box waiting to get her scores after a performance, Dear Michelle Kwan deserves all kisses and no tears.

This production was reviewed in preview ahead of the Fringe at The Tank