Review: MISS LARAJ'S HOUSE OF DYSTOPIAN FUTURES at CATASTROPHIC THEATRE

Playwright, director, and actress Candice D’Meza swings for the fences up in the sky with MISS LARAJ’S HOUSE OF DYSTOPIAN FUTURES, but this is hardly a surprise to anyone who has been following her work here in Houston. Candice throws theater, film, sound, and spiritualism in a blender anytime she produces for the stage. This time around, she is dealing with the earth’s reaction to having to share a planet with us - humans. It’s part lecture, part comedy sketch show, part twisted vision, and a showcase for a cast that would make anyone against DEI’s head explode. This is easily the most elegant expression of non-binary gender fluid queerness put out in the theater I have ever seen, and it feels like a brave new world. Nature is not male-female, has no race or preferences, and Candice has zero boundaries. Yet, as serious as all this sounds, MISS LARAJ’S HOUSE OF DYSTOPIAN FUTURES is mostly comedic, full of eye candy, and is never too preachy or laborious. In short, it’s a smart, good time. 

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THE CATASTROPHIC THEATRE is known for producing dares and experiments, and Candice’s work here is both. It’s a little more messy than her previous show, A MAROON’S GUIDE TO TIME AND SPACE, yet it is also more accessible. And maybe the dinge aesthetic is what the production is aiming for since we are dealing with the human race’s troubled relationship with the earth and its elements. There are six characters onstage, and Candice beams in through video. The half-dozen actors portray the earth, plants, animals, fire, water, and minerals. There are thirteen monitor screens strewn about a grassy set that is reminiscent of A MIDSUMMER’S NIGHT DREAM if it went high-tech. Rope lighting above the stage kind of half works and half doesn’t, giving you the chaos of nature right above. Everyone is pretty much dressed as if they are playing an elemental version of Puck, save for one rather decidedly bawdy Divine-esque drag queen at the center of it all.  

Miss Laraj represents the earth, the entire planet, and the mother to us all. Abraham Zeus Zapata portrays the character as a non-binary drag queen who shifts between sweet and saccharine on a dime. They deliver what I consider one of their bravest performances, which is something given that in CLEANSED, we saw them lose their limbs, and rats on roller skates carried the lopped-off parts away. Their affectations are not totally male or female. They wear make-up and a wig but also sport flat shoes and often drop their voice into a baritone range whenever they feel like it. They also naturally appear as themself in a dream sequence and play a father figure ant mound (yes, ant mound) named ANTonio. They are likable, oddly riffing on Mister Rogers, and also a bit mysterious in their mercurial emotions throughout the show. It all exists in a space that is hard to pin down. Their mother earth is purposefully problematic, and we don’t fully know whether to trust what is happening with Miss Laraj at any moment. They make interesting choices every second they are onstage, and most pay off brilliantly. There is a questionable pitchy song or two, but something tells me that is purposeful. It’s a stunner of a performance that reveals how much soul Abraham has in there.   

 Dillon Dewitt gives his usual “strong as hell” onstage demeanor as Flora, a spirit of plants who is quite proud of all the fern sperm. His energy and strength of character always impress. Indigo Dewdrop Ghonima captures the spirit of water with her flowing movements and incredibly deft flute playing. She’s probably one of the few characters onstage that feels like female would be her sole gender. Brandon McCormick is having the most fun of this gang in his portrayal of Fauna, giving us pure animal. He is a physical presence that is hard to ignore. He brings the testosterone to this party. Magdalen Vaughn shifts from introverted librarian to Jersey gangster in her gender-fluid whiplash portrayal of minerals. Her vocal work here is astounding. Yet I have to give it up to the ballroom sensation, Jarred Tettey as Fye, who represents fire. He steals any scene he is in and quite spectacularly brings the spirit of flames with every entrance. His character is a non-binary whirling dervish who leaves red feathers all over the stage after their well-executed ball moves. The only one who dares to upstage most of them is the author and director herself, who is only seen through video. Candice D’Meza is not in much of the run time, but anytime she shows up on the wall, you know it will be lit. Her comic timing is genius, and her face emotes mountains of messages easily. 

I recognized Afsaneh Aayani’s uber-creative work in the MIDSUMMER set the second I walked in. Afsaneh has been working all over town, but I always get a sense she is most free and uses her signature artistic strokes the best with CATASTROPHIC. YungChris blends in some choreography that keeps the cohesion tight with the cast. James Templeton’s video design is immaculate, and Tim Thomson somehow figures out how to make it look cool on just a brick wall and some fabric. Juan Saracay’s whimsical costumes come out to play just as hard as the actors do. Candice D’Meza and T Lavois Theibaud partnered up to direct this ode to a planet in peril, and you can feel both of their identities swirling together to create this world. It’s free like Candice and fluid like T. They simultaneously insert a sense of “play” in the sweet and insidious play. It has a sense of poetic drama that few productions have. 

MISS LARAJ’S HOUSE OF DYSTOPIAN FUTURES isn’t always clear or straightforward, and anybody expecting a narrative will be sorely disappointed. You know this song, yet somehow, the message resonates but never seems quite clear. It’s a spiritual mystery; something tells me the creators wouldn’t have it any other way. They are here to provoke and give you a play that defiantly says it is time to buck the binary and realize that nature is not absolute this or that. Only technology relies on strict zeroes and ones, and it has no soul. All of this feels dangerously alive at this moment in time, and I am reeling that I am seeing this kind of ragged prophecy showcased in Texas. When the world feels like it is against any sense of transgender or racial diversity, here comes a group of artists to remind us that our DNA and our core reject that. Nature has already figured it out, and so has Candice D’Meza. The CATASTROPHIC THEATRE company is just waiting for you to catch up. But will we ever?  

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