What I liked
Across years of attending the Fringe, this may be the most visceral, arresting, and deliberately discomforting performance I’ve witnessed. It delivers the kind of emotional jolt that only uncompromising art can provoke. Soleil Kohl deserves serious recognition for crafting a piece that dares to confront, disturb, and move — often all at once.
What I didn't like
Nothing!
My overall impression
Dragonfish is a scream disguised as laughter — a fragmented memory play dragged up from the depths. The performer begins with the physicality of a clown, but soon peels back each layer to reveal raw grief and relentless loss.
The piece traces a journey toward the father, but it’s not a simple act of remembering. It becomes a struggle to reclaim a lost presence, to make peace with what vanished, and ultimately, to face the fractured self that remains. The performance pulses with a haunting emotional rhythm.
What stands out most is the use of physical storytelling and clown technique to convey emotions beyond words. The clown’s awkward, even laughable movements suddenly sharpen into something precise and painful. That transformation felt brutally honest.
The “dragonfish” referenced in the title is more than a creature — it becomes a symbol of the father lodged deep in the subconscious. Like a bioluminescent fish that lives in the darkest depths of the sea, the father’s memory is unreachable, mysterious, and haunting. The dragonfish embodies something that is terrifying and elusive, yet magnetic, a reflection of unresolved grief and longing.
Dragonfish may make you laugh. But when the laughter fades, you might find yourself quietly falling apart.
