Experimental, absurd, and downright surreal new works seem to be dominating playhouses lately, and why not? If art reflects the times in which it is conceived, then it’s no wonder that the larger-than-life senselessness we’ve collectively been adrift in for the past several years has provoked playwrights and directors to express themselves in weirder ways, eschewing formal dramatic structures and revivals of familiar shows for endeavors which feel more like cultural primal screams.
Pieces meant to confuse and challenge us – to shake us out of our complacency and remind us of the horribly high stakes of just being alive at this precarious point in history. It is in this vein that we are presented with Single Carrot Theatre’s Kiss Me, Mr. Musk: A Climate Change Parable, Directed by B Kleymeyer and playing at Theatre Project Baltimore: A bleakly funny crazy quilt of mixed media which labors to communicate the existential horror of a planet that’s drowning as it burns.
This show was largely co-created (or, according to the program, “Devised”) by its ensemble, and as a series of peculiar and abstract vignettes is bound to be, it’s definitely a mixed bag – the scenes are by turns funny, disturbing, awkward, poignant, and maddeningly obtuse. It uses inventively amorphous sets and a stunningly conceptual array of cameras, screens, and projections to create an unsettling sense of chaos and accountability. Our own lethargy and disengagement as audience members – and mute witnesses to the apocalypse – betrays us, and this show is not hesitant to point an accusatory finger at our collective lip service to conservation as we claim impotence and watch the world die all around us.
It’s impossible to present a thesis like this in such an expressionist manner and not be at least a little pretentious (and wow, it is), but the show can be forgiven for that due to its willingness to embrace the truly bizarre and knowingly campy in the style of early David Lynch. There are puppets, and those puppets’ humor is broad, chilling, and cleverly staged. There are musical numbers, and those are entertainingly strange; Daniel Baird, credited with Music and Lyrics, is to be commended. There are video segments which are haunting in their crude simplicity, and there are images which are oddly viscerally devastating. This show conveys dread from a dozen different angles, from the subtle to the gross. It explores The End Of All Things, how we’ve brought it on ourselves, and what our legacy on Earth might be. But those involved know they’re also being a bit ridiculous in the presentation of it, and they lean into it with the initial address to the audience, which is dryly funny in its disengagement.
Kiss Me, Mr. Musk is an earnest and engaging endeavor, and it’s worth checking out if you can. That said: Does it need to be an hour and a half without an intermission? Absolutely not. The “climactic scene” is a tedious procession that could easily be a tenth of the length while still getting the point across. This show has a tight 60-70 minutes living in it somewhere that would deliver more of a gut punch than this indulgence, but even so, at least it feels authentic. Who can say that about most theatre anymore?
Running Time: Approximately 90 minutes with no intermission
Kiss Me, Mr. Musk plays through September 11, 2022 with Single Carrot Theatre at Baltimore Theatre Project— 45 W. Preston Street in the Mt. Vernon district of Baltimore, MD. For tickets call the Theatre Project box office at 410-752-8558 or purchase them online.
To read the interview featuring Director B Kleymeyer and Mixed Media Designer Kolton Cotton, click here.
