Up a short flight of stairs, above Boulevard Saint Laurent, is one of the city’s top venues. From the outside, the only signage is plain black, but inside hides a true cabaret theatre.
It was love at first sight, but before I saw it with my own eyes, I admit I was skeptical. When I was first invited to a comedy show at Espace Joie de Vivre, my friend's description gave me pause: it's in a basement. BYOB. The entrance is in the alley. I wondered aloud if we were going to someone's apartment, and my plus one wondered if we would be trapped in a stuffy room with cigarette smokers. Thankfully, we were both entirely wrong.
Despite opening only half a year ago, Lux has already proven itself to be a gathering place for underground Montreal creatives.
I was a fan of comedy before I became a comic, and that perspective primed me for a nostalgia I hadn’t anticipated. If you’re into comedy, you have probably listened to many podcasts with seasoned comics waxing poetic about the scenes in LA or NYC.
I don't want to evoke memories of those bleak times a few years ago when we couldn't gather and have fun, but that's where this story begins.
Held Wednesdays at the charming Notre-Dame-des-Quilles in the Mile End, the Polycule set out to provide a safe space where queer, trans and BIPOC performers would be welcomed to try out new material of any artform in a weekly open mic.
Raquel Maestre is soft-spoken and poised, on stage and off. Her presence on stage captivates your attention from the start, then you’re hit by her jokes that are filled with wit and misdirection, making you explode with laughter.
Taking my first plunge into the widely renowned Montreal comedy scene, I wasn’t quite sure what I would be walking into. Being a newcomer to the city, and a newcomer to comedy, my stomach was buzzing like a hive of ever-persistent Quebec wasps.
