A musical based on an iconic supernatural comedy from 1984 is the kind of show we’ve come to expect during the Cincinnati Fringe. But there’s nothing expectable about Don’t Cross the Streams, which begins with that notion and then processes and reprocesses the idea to a point of ridiculous hilarity.   

I’m not inclined to give you more detail than the program notes about what is “in” the show. Yes, indeed, there is mesmerizing mindreading, crazy karaoke, ventriloquist figures, a soulful song (oh my god, it is really, really soulful) and he does make out with a puppet. You also learn the secret trick as to how you too can get a one-man show in the Cincinnati Fringe.   

The box Audrey is trapped in is a theater box office, and she is the voice on the phone. Audrey’s calling is indeed the theater, but her goal is the stage itself, not selling tickets to the audience. This funny exercise in frustration was written by Casey Pilkenton, who also plays Audrey and recorded all the various voices of those who call.  

Jeanne MamLuft is a brainy director and accomplished choreographer (and filmmaker), and it shows. Latitude, at the Hanke 1 performance space on Main Street, gives MamLuft & Co. Dance the latitude, or room for maneuver, if you will, to present modern dance in a fresh way.  

Chicago-based artist and speaker Rebecca Kling, a transgender woman, delivers some factual and personal answers as she earnestly covers a range of trans- and sex-related topics in her one-woman Fringe show, The Storms Beneath Her Skin.   

In an age when social media promotes the notion of conversation over professionally prepared content, this type of show is definitely in step with the times, but it fails to recognize that a strong guiding hand and ready wit are needed to pull off this kind of daring endeavor.   

Watching Howard Petrick perform his self-written, autobiographical, one-man show, Breaking Rank! was a bit of a time-machine trip for me. Petrick is just a few years older than I, and his cultural frame of reference — growing up in the 1960s and resisting American aggression in Southeast Asia — was very much the same as mine.  

The kids are all right. They know everything about the birds and bees, to say nothing of blow-up dolls, and they’ve been watching the grownups. Very carefully.  

From the opening moment of Grim & Fischer, presented by Wonderheads, a two-person troupe from Portland, Ore., you know this is going to be something special. A lone figure slinks on stage to the strains of Mozart’s Requiem, carrying a black letter. His movements are precise, with the intense comical elegance you get from the best of the old Warner Brothers animations.   

Steven Strafford is one hell of a performer. But his young adult life as a promiscuous, gay, crystal meth addict was one hell of a mess. He courageously and humorously lays it all out in Methtacular, a monologue of 80 entertaining and unpredictable minutes.