My Sketch Comedy Vacation: Jet Lagged and Joke-Filled
TOsketchfest Producer Virginia Woodall, setting off on the train to Montreal
Last spring, while most people were dreaming about cottage getaways or patio season, I packed a carry-on, grabbed my notebook, and set off on what I like to call my sketch comedy vacation. I had the absolute joy of attending not one, but two sketch comedy festivals back-to-back: Montreal Sketchfest and Newfoundland and Labrador Sketchfest. I came back inspired, energized, and charged up by shared laughter.
Stop 1: Montreal Sketchfest – Late Nights, Big Laughs, and Bold Choices
Théâtre Sainte-Catherine, home of Montreal Sketchfest
Montreal Sketchfest celebrated its 18th glorious year last May, and I was lucky enough to be there for the final weekend, May 8 to 10. It was my second time attending, and if you’ve never experienced late-night sketch in a city that treats art like a party, you’re missing out.
Montreal knows how to throw a festival. The energy is physical, messy, and gloriously unhinged. More than one person warned me not to sit in the first couple rows unless I was ready for the splash zone. They weren’t kidding. These performers go big, and they hold nothing back if it serves the laugh. Props flew, liquids splattered, whipped cream was sprayed, and every moment felt like a new surprise.
Most of the festival took place at Théâtre Sainte-Catherine, a cozy venue with exposed brick walls and a narrow spiral staircase that leads to a tiny balcony where artists perch like mischievous gargoyles, watching the action below. I caught the Francophone showcase at the second venue just down the road, La Comédie. Bigger stage, bolder moves, and a totally different vibe. The hardest part about multiple venues? Choosing which show to see when everything happening at once looks incredible.
Friday’s live band karaoke after-party was the kind of night you never forget. The sketch comedians who formed the band rotated instruments between songs, with different artists taking the stage to belt all sorts of bangers like their lives depended on it. Saturday’s closing comedy marathon was a dream. Three shows in one night, culminating in the Best of the Fest show! Ten acts, five-minute sketches, awards and then the legendary dance party. It was the kind of late-night comedy vibes that Montreal is famous for. It’s wild, welcoming, and wonderful.
Experiencing Montreal’s programming up close also helped me compare how different cities structure their showcases, organize their late-night blocks, and shape their festival culture, a context that became even more valuable once I reached Newfoundland.
Stop 2: NL Sketchfest – The Roots Run Funny Here
LSPU Hall, the new headquarters for NL Sketchfest
Three days later, I landed in St. John’s for Newfoundland and Labrador Sketchfest, just in time for night two. I stayed for the rest of the run, and I already want to go back. I wasn’t alone on this stop – I was joined by TOsketchfest’s Executive Director, Paul Snepsts, and our Production Manager, Andrea Miller. The three of us were there not only as enthusiastic audience members, but also as researchers, hoping to learn with fresh eyes, from a growing regional festival.
Held from May 13 to 18, NL Sketchfest was only in its second year, and it already felt like it’s been here forever. This year they moved from a bingo hall to the LSPU Hall, a historic theatre that’s seen generations of Newfoundland comedy legends. It’s the kind of venue where you can feel the ghosts of sketches past in the best possible way.
We were able to make this trip thanks to the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, whose Travel grant helped us spend five days in St. John’s. Their investment allowed us to attend performances, meet artists in person, and deepen our understanding of East Coast sketch comedy. We’re incredibly grateful for their support.
St. John’s welcomed us like family. The kind of family that hands you a touton and a cup of tea and then launches into a sketch about it. The shows were sharp, colourful, and deeply rooted in place. Even when I didn’t know the exact reference, I still felt like I got it. The local lore is baked right into the comedy, and you’re invited to laugh along, no decoder ring required.
As a team, we realized quickly how much of this work you can only understand by being in the room. Regional sketch doesn’t always translate on video submissions. Context, cadence, and local reference points are woven right into the humour. Being in St. John’s confirmed something we had hoped to learn: that building relationships in person helps us better understand artists’ voices and create clearer, more welcoming pathways for Newfoundland and Labrador performers to feel confident submitting to TOsketchfest.
Compared to Montreal’s party energy, NL Sketchfest wrapped you in a big, wooly embrace. It was wholesome without being tame, political without being preachy, and every act brought something distinct. There’s a long and proud tradition of sketch in Newfoundland, and you can feel that legacy onstage and off.
Andrea, TOsketchfest’s Production Manager, spent much of the week paying close attention to the technical environment at the LSPU Hall. She noted how the custom set gave artists an additional area in which to work. The thoughtful stage crew kept the shows on track and provided backstage support that helped both the logistics of live performance and brought the artists’ vision to life. The technical approach in St. John’s gave us ideas about how we can better support artists on our stages in Toronto, particularly in ways that highlight the playful theatricality that sketch relies on.
Both festivals were inclusive, diverse, and overflowing with fresh ideas. As a producer, I came back with pages of notes, new connections, and a big old crush on the national sketch community.
Nkasi Ogbonnah’s Cross-Country Comedy Itinerary
Nkasi Ogbonnah at TOsketchfest25, photo by Ramya Jegatheesan
I wasn’t the only one zigzagging across the country last May. Toronto-based sketch comedian Nkasi Ogbonnah performed at both Montreal Sketchfest and Newfoundland and Labrador Sketch Fest, making her one of the only artists to appear at both festivals this year. While our paths crossed a lot on our travels, we connected back in Toronto for coffee, tea, and to talk about comedy. Her experience offers a vivid artist’s-eye view of what it’s like to take your show on the road and land it in front of brand new audiences.
When I asked her to describe the vibe of each festival, she nailed it. Montreal, she said, “has the energy of a college party with grownups […] Even though I hadn’t performed there in years, I knew exactly what the energy would be when I got there, and it was exactly that.” Newfoundland, on the other hand, felt “homey, like a comforter.” The community in St. John’s was warm and welcoming, and the energy in the room was one of support. “It felt like a big family all coming together.”
Her show is political and personal. She didn’t rewrite it to suit each city. She changed one Toronto reference to a Canada-wide one, but otherwise kept it intact. “If I change it just because I’m scared of what people might think, it’s not the same show anymore.” That decision led to one of her most meaningful moments of the tour. After a performance in St. John’s, a Black woman from the audience came up to her and said, “This was for me.” That moment stuck. “That’s the reason I do this,” Nkasi said. “If one person feels seen and heard and held by the show, that’s everything.”
Performing the same show in different places gave Nkasi a stronger sense of control, clarity, and confidence in her solo work. “Toronto Sketchfest was my first time doing a solo half-hour. It was terrifying. Montreal and Newfoundland were my second and third. I could feel myself settling into it. I wasn’t just getting through it anymore. I could play.”
Seeing other performers helped, too. In Montreal, she was blown away by a troupe called Grease Trap, “Their stuff made me feel like a kid touching grass for the first time. I didn’t know how much I missed seeing work like that. Comedy that’s clearly written for someone like me.” And in Newfoundland, she finally caught Colonial Circus after over a year of trying. “They were mind-blowing. Smart, hilarious, a little uncomfy in the best way. I was so excited, I think I scared them after the show.”
By the end of her cross-country tour, she wasn’t drained, she was activated. “It recharged my relationship with sketch. I didn’t know I needed that push, but I did. I came back ready to write, ready to push further, ready to make something new.”
So, What Did I Learn?
Every sketch comedy scene has its own personality. Montreal is your bold, wild best friend who dares you to stay out until 4am. St. John’s is your brilliant, funny cousin who remembers every inside joke, has impeccable timing, and makes you feel like part of something bigger.
Attending both back to back was a dream. I laughed until I cried (literally), clapped until my hands were sore, and left both cities feeling more connected than ever to the broader comedy world.
I learned how valuable it is to show up in person, especially when building relationships with artists outside major centres. Meeting performers face-to-face, on their home turf, helped me understand their work in ways a submission link never could. It confirmed how important it is for us to keep building national connections so artists from every region feel seen, supported, and welcome at TOsketchfest.
My sketch comedy vacation of eleven whirlwind days reminded me why we do this. The absurd hours, the last-minute tech rewrites, the eternal quest for the perfect blackout. Because sketch comedy is alive and thriving across this country. And lucky me, I got to reconnect with everything I love about sketch comedy: the joy, the community, the beautiful chaos of it all. I left feeling inspired, welcomed, and reminded why this art form feels like home. This is the energy and motivation I’m bringing with me into 2026.
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts.