Lauren Gillis and Alaine Hutton are a performing/writing/directing/designing duo with a decade of shared training in physical performance and making people uncomfortable. They create questionably comedic theatre, film, and “digital not otherwise specified”, often revolving around the internet ruining our brains, distorting our sexualities, and how we can’t stop looking at it.

Their performance practice stems from training in Butoh-based Embodiment with Denise Fujiwara, as well as Fides Krucker’s Emotionally Integrated Voice approach to extended range vocals.

In April 2018 they premiered the original work Mr. Truth at Why Not Theatre’s RISER Project at The Theatre Centre, garnering two Dora nominations (Outstanding New Play, Outstanding Ensemble) and a Dora win (Outstanding Costume Design). Their passion for intricate dramaturgy that embraces ambiguity within a comedic container was well-received critically, “The perfect comedic thinkpiece for the #MeToo movement” (‘NNNN”, Jordan Bimm, NOW Magazine) as well as by the artistic community, “It’s refreshing to watch women tackle a taboo topic with grace and sensitivity without losing the grotesque humour that allows us to unpack ‘a woman's place in society’ ” (Annemieke Wade). Mr. Truth went on to tour Vancouver in 2019 at Upintheair Theatre’s rEvolver Festival. Safe and Sorry, the cautionary tale of a men’s dating coach who reads the comments, was workshopped as part of the SummerWorks Lab, August  2019. 

Currently, they have just completed their speculative fiction/ cringe comedy series Content Farm streaming on CBC Gem March 29. 

Next up, DAYGAMERS, an animated series about ethical pick-up artists who try to help internet boys, and a woman who makes a documentary about it and gets doxxed to hell, but everyone is earwigs. 

Lester Trips. Lester… Trips?

Yes, exactly.

Lester Trips (Theatre) takes its namesake from the glorious fall of a fictional robot named Lester- the most advanced bipedal humanoid robot on earth. To reveal this to an audience, he takes the stage and prepares to ascend. He takes a step. He takes a second step. He takes a third step, and he trips. He falls down the stairs. Technicians run on stage with screens to hide his failure (their failure). No one is sure what to think of this, but it might be funny. We had great hopes and glorious expectations for this moment, and Lester trips. For us, Lester is not only a bipedal humanoid robot but anything or anyone who says:

I hope and expect this to go well.

I present myself.

I trip.

It is this exhilarating and confusing experience as an audience member, as a performer, and most importantly as any conscious being walking the planet with hopes and inevitable falls, that fascinates us as artists and is encapsulated by our name.