There’s something familiar to me about a raging deadly pandemic sweeping through a population, laying waste to its inhabitants and sparking political unrest, and through the residual trauma, I want nothing more than to just laugh and laugh at all of the fresh gravestones and ruined lives. This, at least, is the conceptual basis behind absurdist comedy, which aims to satirize unimaginable tragedy, and calls forth the age-old query of: “too soon?”
Written by Eugene Ionesco and directed by Conrad Alexandrowicz, The Killing Game features a cast of 16 identity-fluid citizens who die… again… and again… and again. In fact, it could easily be said that The Killing Game is an anthology of caricature fatalities, since the entire first half is nothing more than disconnected vignettes depicting the comically tragic deaths of literally everybody. Considering the first to die are a pair of babies, the script eagerly announces its nihilistic message as soon as it’s able to drool, giggle, and croak, in that order.
This format is not without its flaws. Since no character lasts longer than a couple of minutes at most, it is quite impossible to care about any of them in the same way that an emotional bond is formed during a serious drama with persistent characters. As a result, the fleeting glimpses into the brief lives and deaths of countless strangers is, at its worst, tedious and incredibly boring. When the intermission occurred, I held out futile hope that it was actually the end of the play, and that’s not a great sign.
The second act, however, was less about death and more about the paranoia, propaganda, lies, and damn lies of a population who share exactly zero rational thoughts between them. Several monologues, though far too overwrought, tackle salient concepts including fear and aggression, that we, as COVID-19 survivors, have been only recently traumatized by. It’s for that reason that I wonder if this production, in accordance with its absurdist roots, would not have been better suited to have been launched in 2021, when its audience would really want nothing more than to laugh through their tears.
Although I can say confidently that this format of theatre is not my cup of tea, I would be remiss to ignore the many outstanding aspects of the production. The set is an abstract series of twisted geometric shapes meant to represent buildings, and even features elements that raise and lower to replace other elements. The costumes number in the dozens and are all exceptionally designed and executed to illustrate the role and position of their many characters. The performance of each actor was lively and powerful, and it’s clear that a lot of fun was to be had with the source material and a cast of actors who are young and eager to create a performance that’s bold and energetic.
For those who appreciate coherent, cogent storytelling, The Killing Game will be your least favourite production of the year. However, for those who know they’re going to die eventually and are determined to laugh their way into the grave, The Killing Game is a light-hearted romp through tragedy, which, given our recent history, handily answers the aforementioned query with the following response: “nope.”
The Killing Game
Various times, until Saturday, February 22
Various prices, Phoenix Theatre, UVic
phoenixtheatres.ca