Is Hollywood Fringe finally becoming the theater festival that L.A. deserves?

When Lois Neville and Ellen Boudreau-Den Herder became co-executive directors of the Hollywood Fringe Festival in early 2020, their first job, Neville likes to joke, was to cancel it.

The trauma of the COVID-19 pandemic closures led to even greater challenges for the city’s theater community as sales to live shows continued to plummet, arts grants were canceled and audiences dwindled. Remarkably, when it came to the Fringe Festival, those problems added up to a major opportunity to rethink the sprawling event — criticized for its lack of cohesion — into the kind of theater festival L.A. deserves.

This year’s event has a record number of participants, and is set to break even after operating at a loss for the last two years. The motto “L.A. is a theater town” is emblazoned on posters and T-shirts all over the festival, which kicks off Thursday and runs through June 28, featuring thousands of artists in nearly 500 live performances, including clowning, solo shows, dramas and musicals.

The COVID pause allowed new leadership to address major issues including longstanding complaints about a lack of diversity and representation. They also moved from a volunteer-run organization with a yearly stipend for employees to a paid model because, said Den Herder, “You can’t keep staff if you’re not paying them.”

Aside from the cost and challenges of mounting even a simple show, the start of 2020 saw the passage of AB5, the California bill that required independent contractors to be treated as employees — which meant theaters couldn’t operate on a volunteer model. This caused many theaters to drastically cut their schedules and costs, or close altogether.

But AB5 also led to Hollywood Fringe becoming a refuge for artists, who can stage their shows independently while enjoying the institutional backing of a ticketing system, publicity and other benefits. As an added bonus, the money from ticket sales goes directly back to the shows.

That community aspect of Fringe is invaluable to artists.

“It’s about connecting with your community and making new artistic friends — which is so important since L.A. has lost a lot of its artistic connective tissue,” said Padraic Duffy, managing director of Sacred Fools Theater Company, whose Broadwater complex will host 108 productions this year — up from an average of 40 to70 in recent years.

Mark Vigeant will appear in three shows, including his comedic solo show “Out There,” before it travels to the Edinburgh Festival in Scotland. “Fringe is the only place I can put up my ridiculous, category-blending comedy and count on an enthusiastic audience to show up,” said Vigeant.

Participating in the festival paid off in other ways too. Vigeant said he met “the love of [his] life” at Fringe, and after his 2024 “The Best Man Show” won best comedy at the festival, it became a special on Dropout TV.

Fringe is also a win for the public, who have a wide variety of acts and times to choose from. “It’s like a tasting menu,” Den Herder noted. “There are so many styles and they’re done quickly and all times of the day.”

Vigeant noted the quality can vary. “There are no gatekeepers, which means the ceiling is sky-high and the floor is as low as it gets; I’ve seen genuinely mind-blowing shows at Fringe, as well as a whole lot of crap.”

But with short run times and tickets averaging less than $20, Neville said it’s a good place to take a risk. “You might not be able to afford to spend hundreds of dollars on an unknown, but here you can try everything and might find something you never knew you would love.”

Some big trends they’ve noticed this year include around 40 clown shows, big ensemble casts and what Neville referred to as “artivism,” tackling topical subjects and “using theater to change the world.”

One such show is “Radical Acts With Ramón,” featuring artist Ruby Marez’s Puerto Rican drag king alter ego. Ramón is a staple at Fringe, having won several awards for previous shows.

Ruby Marez as Ramón from “Radical Acts With Ramón.”

(David Haverty)

“It deals with the rise of tech authoritarianism and the surveillance state, which doesn’t sound like it could be made fun or into a game,” said Marez. “But Ramón always finds a way to ‘put the vitamins in the ice cream,’ so to speak. Expect games, clowning and catharsis that transform helplessness into empowerment and isolation into belonging.”

Marez exemplifies the rising representation at the festival, which has seen big changes behind-the-scenes largely thanks to Den Herder and Neville. Their first year in leadership positions was supposed to ease them into the transition, but the pandemic forced them to pivot.

“In some ways it was a blessing,” admits Den Herder. “We got to learn by stopping, taking an assessment, and listening to the community. And we really wanted to change the culture of Fringe.” While the fest is known for being a big celebration, Den Herder said the environment could be a “high-drinking culture that often became cliquey.”

The pair had already been working to make the festival more inclusive. “Even when I was coming up in Fringe, I was not always comfortable as a woman, and that was a problem,” Den Herder said. “We really needed to listen to women, non-binary individuals and people of color who felt excluded from the space.”

Her first project in 2016 as outreach coordinator was to help launch the festival’s scholarship program, which has since helped fund more than 128 works.

They also knew formal parameters were needed. “In the early days of Fringe, we had one rule: ‘Don’t be a jerk,’” said Neville. “As we grew, we needed to expand on that to ensure the boundaries and expectations were clear.”

In 2018, before they took on their current leadership roles, the pair helped put together a code of conduct. And, for the first time, began banning people from the festival for bad behavior.

The code of conduct made it clear that “sexual harassment and sexual assault are completely forbidden” and that one should “know your limit when it comes to alcohol and other substances.” In addition, aggressive behavior, verbal and physical intimidation and hate speech were banned.

Co-executive directors of Fringe Lois Neville, left, and Ellen Boudreau-Den Herder inside Fringe Central. The pair has worked to make the festival more cohesive and inclusive.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

This happened during the nationwide #MeToo reckoning, but they still encountered resistance. “It was a shock to some people,” Den Herder said. “Some would refer to it as ‘curation’ or say we were ‘excluding men’ or frame it as sinister. But we didn’t want to take away the party — we wanted to take away the idea it was a frat house with no rules.”

Neville continued, “We began pushing the idea that you are welcome to our festival, but it is a privilege, not a right. And everyone deserves a space that is safe and allows room to grow. And I really think that year off helped reinforce that we were coming back in a bigger and better way.”

This change was partly accomplished by the creation of the Access Artist Advisory Board, which was dedicated to making things more accessible — physically and emotionally, but also financially.

Still, nobody is part of Fringe to make money. The administration isn’t driving around in fancy cars — Neville doesn’t even own an automobile and Den Herder shares one with her husband.

“Fringe is not a career-maker, it’s a launching pad,” Neville said. “You cannot do it and think it’s a sustainable career financially.”

Neville noted that in addition to their annual report, a postmortem survey tracks “how happy people are,” and if they feel the cost was worth it. Last year the results came in at over 67% positive. This year they are hoping for even better. This can only happen, the Fringe leaders said, if Angelenos donate generously to arts funding — and reap the benefits by supporting subjects they’re interested in.

You’re not just funding artists, Den Herder pointed out, “You’re funding your world.”

Click here for Hollywood Fringe 2026 tickets, schedule and additional info.