The toga, chief among all robe-based attire, is comedy gold. Animal House knew it. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum knew it. And the Bad Dog Theatre knows it too.

Their latest mainstage show, Rome'd, makes heavy use of the classical garb as it spoofs HBO's Rome. While the original TV show is heavy on the intrigue and gore, Rome'd is all about the funny.

In the wake of Barack Obama's historic Presidential win, there has been a lot of talk about a new "post-racial" or "post-ethnic" world. While this type of buzz-speak is always rather vague, I took it to mean that it's time to start looking at the actual individuals behind catch-all categories like race and immigration.

It is interesting that this same week saw the premier of Tarragon Theatre's Bashir Lazhar. Although it cuts across topics of immigration, violence, childhood and teaching, it is ultimately a portrait of one, complicated man who both embodies and transcends the grand ideas. It is an audacious play, covering vast amounts of territory for a one-person, 80 minute show.

Of all the various television templates created by man to variously entertain and sell advertising, few are more intolerable than the medical drama. With the exception of House, these shows are the broadcast equivalent of smashing yourself repeatedly in the face with a hammer, because it feels so good when you stop.

So imagine my delight when I heard the Bad Dog Theatre- Toronto's source for low-budget, gonzo comedy- was doing an improvised send-up of this hated genre. And Hot Doctors in Love doesn't just roast medical drama. The cast of this entertaining show immolates it, leaving nothing but comedic gold in their wake.

When it first premiered at Theatre Passe Muraille 28 years ago, Judith Thompson's The Crackwalker was a kind of lighning rod for Canadian drama. Not only did it mark the arrival of a major new theatrical voice, but it signalled a new maturity among Canadian playwrights. Grit and brutal honesty had arrived.

Staged and Confused's production of The Crackwalker, also at Theatre Passe Muraille, is a worthy tribute to the significance of that first production. But it fails to generate any relevance of its own or achieve the resonance of its forebearer. Legacy, as it turns out, can be a tricky burden to bear.

Up until this Tuesday, I knew exactly three things about Norway. 1) Vikings come from there. 2) My friend Magnus lives there. Sadly, he is not a Viking. 3) It has fjords. And presumably Fords, although that's far less interesting from a tourism perspective.

But thanks to Theatre Smash's superb production of Norway.Today, I know a fourth thing about the Scandinavian nation: it is home to a 2000 feet-high cliff called the Preikestolen. Not only is it a scenic wonder, it's also an ideal place for the histrionically-inclined to off themselves. And, as it turns out, the backdrop for a very interesting piece of theatre.

Waiting for Godot is the theatrical equivalent of a mine field. Full of starving grizzly bears. Surrounded by a shark-infested moat. On fire.

It is a play where nothing actually happens. Two guys show up and wait for another guy to arrive. But behind this facade of inactivity lies a vast chasm of existential ambiguity. Sixty years after it was written, nobody is really sure what it's actually about. In fact, the play resists explanation so strongly, any attempt to pin down Beckett's intent seems doomed to failure.

So when I read that Remain in Light Theatre's production of Godot featured a World War II setting and the music of Joy Division, I thought: Uh oh. This might be trouble. And it was. But only a little. Almost in spite of itself, Remain in Light has managed to mount an impressive production of Beckett's classic.