The real F-word, which has only three letters not the usual four, gets aired a lot in the course of David Cheoros's GUT, an unusual solo show for two actors, one thin and the other f- ...well, you know, not thin.

The f- one is Cheoros, a former head of the Fringe and a man of some girth, who has always been "the fat kid," as he reveals in rather adorable photos from the Cheoros family album. The thin one, actor Vincent Forcier, is young, lithe, energetic, ridiculously fit, leaping from the stage aerobically like a Peter Pan hopeful. The director is Trevor Schmidt, who unflinchingly brought the Neil LaBute play Fat Pig to the stage two seasons ago.

In the course of a show exploring Cheoros's paunch, and its implications - cultural, domestic, professional, political, medical - we'll see ill-fated pushups and lopsided pas de deux. We'll find out that Cheoros comes by amplitude honestly. His father was Greek, his mother was German: ergo, their cooking was "fusion" (sausages and olive oil), and at the diner they ran in Mitchell, Ont., the daily special tended to be breaded.

Not only that, they made candy on the side, leading to one of the script's pointed coming-of-age insights. "Depressed 16-year-olds should not sleep over 600 pounds of milk chocolate."

Anyhow, decades of Corn Nuts, Glossettes, and one or two Smarties later, Cheoros has a weighty decision to make.

GUT corners Forcier, a perfectly nice, mannerly, non-judgmental guy - "but you're not fat fat" - into frying bacon onstage and using the politically incorrect term "Jell-O Boy." And it corners us into voting. Should Cheoros resist pressure from his wife to lose pounds, and buff up his self-image instead of fixating on his gut. Or should he change everything about the way he lives, and lose 30 pounds by next year's Fringe? He promises to abide by the collective decision. As the droll, mild-mannered character we meet onstage, Cheoros seems much too self-deprecating to assert himself with the former option. GUT is a very passive-aggressive show that way. You can tell by the poster question: "Does this show make me look fat?" At the preview I was kindly allowed to attend, Gut had a spontaneous, informally chatty, slightly unravelling feel to it. I was nervous all the way through hoping the plumpish person wouldn't get his feelings hurt.

EDMONTON SUN - Friday, August 14, 2009 Review by Mike Ross

Not sure what David Cheoros is up to here -- and don't say "about 250 pounds!"

There's nothing funny about obesity. Unless it's a fat man making fun of himself.

That's hilarious. Fat jokes are the bread and extra butter of the overweight comedian. Just think: Cheoros wouldn't have been able to write this funny Fringe show about being fat if he himself were not a tad on the heavy side.

He spends an hour allegedly trying to convince the audience that being fat is OK and then takes a poll by applause whether or not he should drop 30 pounds by the next Fringe. This is a very peculiar way to start a weight-loss program.

I assume that's what the local actor/director is doing because he doesn't make a very convincing case that fat is beautiful.

He says we should stop pretending that society's aversion to pie-wagons isn't more than just a health issue.

It's discrimination based on that one perceived character flaw.

Slow metabolism? Lame excuse. Moreover, eating healthy is time-consuming and expensive, which is probably why there are so many obese poor people in North America. These are good points, but then there are all the fat jokes to cancel them out. Cheoros invites us to laugh at him, not with him. Part of the therapy, maybe. A good part of the narrative is autobiographical.

Cheoros was a depressed teen. His parents ran a candy shop. Recipe for a chubby life. And scrumptious treats!

The annual making of the Christmas candy canes -- a process as delicate and complicated as glass blowing -- is lovingly described.

Visions of sugar plums and other delicious confections flash on the screen as Cheoros recalls these delicious memories.

On stage, to make him look fatter, is Vincent Forcier, a svelte guy who can breakdance, do flips and other things portly men generally cannot do.

Various bits of physical comedy ensue.

Yes, it is funny to see a fat guy do yoga. There's also some amusing help-I'm-a-character-caught-in-a-play banter as they "argue" about the merits of obesity.

"I'm just saying what you want me to say," Vincent retorts at one point, after cruelly badgering the poor, flabby playwright.

It all comes off as a work of public humiliation as lifestyle motivation, a self-imposed obesity intervention staged by an unwitting theatre audience.

If it works, this unique new weight-loss program might just catch on.

Quick, alert Oprah!