Stage/Comedy

Who: DeAnne Smith
Where: The Garrison
When: Sat., Sept. 22
Vibe: A deeply personal conversation with someone holding a microphone
Highlight: Smith consulting an ex-girlfriend in the audience about their relationship
Rating: NNNN (out of 5)

ON DAY 3 of the Just for Laughs Toronto festival, I return to The Garrison to see DeAnne Smith. Like Mark Forward, who opened the festival here, Smith doesn’t have an opener. Rather than doing the full, uninterrupted hour, though, Smith takes a different approach: they come out on stage first as their own “opener” and then again as the show’s “headliner.” As “the opener,” Smith does more unpolished, work-in-progress material, saving the solid, sure-fire stuff for the “headliner.”

Throughout the set (as both “opener” and “headliner”), Smith shows real vulnerability on stage, sharing deeply personal stories while also dealing with a few technical missteps. They occasionally lose their place — realizing they did some jokes out of order, forgetting how they were meant to be set up and structured, needing to pause and consult with their notebook — and, in the process, share unfiltered commentary on their own set in real time with the audience.

Smith is further hamstrung by missing visual components, as The Garrison’s stage doesn’t have a projector and a screen. At first, it’s difficult to tell if this is just a bit, but Smith plays a short audio clip of an ex-girlfriend describing them, which — when it lands a bit awkwardly — they emphasize doesn’t work as well without seeing the video. The audio-visual struggles continue when Smith talks about their recent top surgery, at which point they explain that at this point in the show they usually present visual evidence of the “sick rack” they used to have. Instead, Smith tells the crowd to email them — giving out their actual email address — and promises to send photos to whoever reaches out, but only if Smith later remembers they made this offer.

It’s indicative of the surprisingly intimate relationship Smith builds with the audience over the hour. Smith shares deeply personal stories about their family, existential fears about looming societal collapse and past romantic relationships — about which Smith consults (again, in real time) with an ex-girlfriend, who happens to be sitting in the audience.

Smith has talked before about exploring why they get to be the one on stage talking into a microphone and everyone else must be silent and listen. Their approach is to invite the audience in, leaving nothing unacknowledged or unspoken between audience and performer, even when it’s not in service of a punchline, which results in a surprisingly raw and intimate performance — albeit one that can sometimes feel a bit jumbled.

Despite the technical mix-ups, Smith maintains a positive, upbeat energy throughout the set, even when exploring sometimes dark and gloomy subjects. It’s clear Smith has tapped into something real and isn’t only looking to make the audience laugh — which they nonetheless easily accomplish — but to build and share a more meaningful, human connection.

Still, that connection is mostly unidirectional as they’re the one on stage with a microphone.