From the playwright
Life is bizarre. I don’t care if you’re an Atheist or an Apostle, existence is a bewildering phenomenon. Seems to me that most of old myths — all the stories we’ve been telling ourselves and each other — reflect our efforts to make sense of the world. Why do people Die, where does Suffering come from, how do we get rid of Monsters, what is Love (baby, don’t hurt me) and how do I get him/her/them to fall in It with me? Because, really, life is bizarre. At given moment on any part of Earth, someone is experiencing pure Joy and someone unfathomable Grief …
I think the great accomplishment of humanity is our ability to communicate, and the grand comedy of life is our chronic failure to do so. I love that things are funny and not funny at the same time, all the time. When I’m laughing and you don’t know why, odds are I’ve suddenly become aware of this reality again and my own inability to express why it’s funny.
A group of six 20-something-year-old friends who gather in a mountain cabin to enjoy a well-deserved vacation. It’s just they can’t seem to enjoy anything, really. What is supposed to be a fun and carefree evening evolves into a drunken circus of attempted infidelity, nonsense, and weird religion. This all takes place under the watchful gaze of a young girl who only shows herself to one person, while he steadily and hilariously loses his grip on reality in the company of his oblivious friends. The nature of shame, sexuality, loyalty, intoxication, privilege and faith are all explored in this achingly funny new play.
High-octane. Heartfelt. Delightfully bizarre.
Welcome to Not Even The Good Things.