“As Ray, Mr. Breaux gives a performance of remarkable dexterity. It takes a very smart actor to play dumb as well as he does, mining Ray’s inarticulateness for humor that is never cruel. … He reveals a streak of deceptiveness that Mr. Breaux makes equally believable — while still maintaining a sense of forlorn desperation that keeps his character sympathetic.”

“It could not have been easy to find an actor to play Ray. Alex Breaux — who beautifully embodies not only Ray’s physicality but his pathos.”

“Breaux, spending the entire play clad only in the titular swimwear, certainly has the requisite sinewy physique, and is so scarily convincing in conveying his character’s dimness that it’s a relief to read in the program that he went to Harvard and Juilliard.”

“Breaux, onstage for the play’s entirety, deserves some sort of endurance medal for spending so much of the show so damp, clad only in the titular tiny swimsuit and horrendous back tattoo, stripped even of body hair. Rarely has an actor had to do so much, while wearing so little.”


“Breaux delivers a strikingly intense turns as the obsessed Nick.”

“Alex Breaux, registering like a lankier, even more tormented Paul Dano…”

“The trickiest part is played by Alex Breaux as Nick. He needs to both convincing as someone who believes the odd things he is seeing are real, as a down on his luck friend, and the kind of person prone to violent outbursts. Luckily, Breaux pulls it all off with ease.”


“CAMPFIRE ALPHA neatly and very effectively demonstrates how toxic masculinity and rage work, how passivity allows them to breed, and how complicity becomes a wonderfully convenient launching ground to commit acts for savage pleasure, blind to personal and social consequences. And by doing so, CAMPFIRE ALPHA has become a film of significance.”


…“Breaux does a very fine job of conveying that confused state by himself.”

…“Alex Breaux, for one, gives an unnervingly good performance.”

“A mute and mangled collage of different corpses, the careful precision of Breaux’s cyborg-like performance…”

Breaux brings a rare elegance to the monster, evoking (without copying) the haunted theatricality of Karloff and the rich inner world of De Niro. His early scenes with Call, alone in an apartment, struggling to assemble blocks and playing ping-pong with his new dad, are filled with complex character work, as disappointments and frustrations and vulnerabilities are revealed. Their relationship is, for half the film, more than enough to captivate.”


“The tattooed oaf Ajax (Alex Breaux) keeps in shape by lifting weights — Mr. Breaux’s Valley Boy inflections get some of the evening’s biggest laughs.”

“I especially enjoyed… Alex Breaux as an aptly “cloddish” Ajax.”