An unprecedented number of local Fringe veterans are returning to this year’s edition of the annual theatre event, which is cause to celebrate. But it’s not all good news: one of the reasons for this reverse exodus is that even the best actors, writers, and directors can’t always find places to play in a theatre scene that’s suffered from demographic shifts, government cutbacks, a sluggish economy, and sky-high real-estate prices.

“We’ve lost the Vancouver Playhouse, and there are really only a couple of main theatres here,” points out Angry Actors Co-op mainstay Suzanne Ristic, who’ll premiere her new script, Poor, at the Firehall Arts Centre. “And it’s hard for an older actress to get work.”

Both, she continues in a telephone interview from her Vancouver home, are good reasons to return to the low-budget, low-risk environs of September’s annual theatre circus. But the best reason, she adds, is that at the Fringe you’re your own boss. “It’s about trying to take control of my artistic destiny,” she explains, “while stepping in a new direction, as a writer.”

Ristic immediately qualifies her statement by noting that she is, in fact, beholden to one other member of the Angry Actors team: Jay Brazeau, who’s directing Lisa Bunting in the one-hander. “We’ve had a lot of strong disagreements, especially when it comes to cutting things,” she notes, laughing. The conflict can’t be too strenuous: she and Brazeau have worked together, on and off, since making their Fringe debut with a near-legendary production of John Patrick Shanley’s Danny and the Deep Blue Sea in 1987.

Also returning are the multitalented Beverley Elliott, who’ll debut a semi-autobiographical collection of songs and skits called …didn’t see that coming, and the acclaimed Susinn McFarlen, who’ll appear in Loretta Seto’s play Dirty Old Woman. But the most senior of the Fringe alumni, at least in terms of commitment, is actor, playwright, and self-described clown Jacques Lalonde, who’s had a show in every edition of the event since 1986.

Except for last year, that is. In 2013, Lalonde was still recovering from the effects of the health crisis that is the subject of his Havana Theatre offering, Stroke of Luck. That year, unable to act, he had to content himself with serving as a volunteer.

“For me, personally, it’s just what I do,” says the loquacious Lalonde, in a separate telephone interview. “It’s become a tradition; I do the Fringe every year.…And for me it’s mostly just the ability to do what I want.

“If someone offers you a project, and you’re being paid, it may not be your favourite script but you’re still going to do it,” he continues. “For the Fringe, you’re only doing what you want to do, so every time you do a Fringe play, it’s a labour of love.”

For both Ristic and Lalonde, it’s also a matter of belief. Both Poor and Stroke of Luck are message plays, although in this case it’s possible, more or less, to separate the personal from the political. Ristic’s script, for instance, is her response to homelessness and income inequality; it envisions a glossy West Van type’s voyeuristic descent into the bowels of the Downtown Eastside, and the cultural collisions that ensue.

“I’m writing this play just as much for myself as for anybody, because I’m one of the people who sits back and doesn’t really act on anything that’s going on,” she explains. “I just continue to let it happen and shake my head.”

As for its chance of changing anything, Ristic is dubious. “The problem is the one percent don’t really go anywhere,” she says. “They’re just isolated, and I highly doubt if anything I have to say is going to influence them. But it would be great to see people start taking back control of their own lives—of politics and what’s going on around us.”

Lalonde might have a better chance of effecting positive change with Stroke of Luck, especially among members of his own male, middle-aged demographic. “One of the big messages of the play is that a lot of men just refuse to believe that they’re less than invulnerable, and so they won’t go see doctors when they’re sick,” he points out, accurately enough. “We believe in a thing called magical healing, and magical healing is the theory that if we don’t go see the doctor we won’t get sick. I’m proof it doesn’t work.”

Part of his prescription, then, is that laughter—a readily available commodity at every Fringe—is the best medicine. “You really have to be a glass-half-full kind of guy,” he says, “ ’cause if you’re a glass-half-empty type, you’re going to be seeing the bottom of the glass a lot. So the good news, I like to say, is that I haven’t lost my sense of humour. The bad news is that it hasn’t gotten any better!”

Poor runs at the Firehall Arts Centre from Thursday (September 4) to September 14, as part of the Vancouver Fringe Festival. Stroke of Luck plays the Havana Theatre from Friday (September 5) to September 14.