A lone actor stands center stage in the Vegas Theatre Company and stares into the audience without explicitly looking at any one of them. Equipped with the vacant expression and breathing cadences of a zombie, his head slowly drifts in a slight clockwise motion for about 15 minutes as a few straggling guests file into the venue.
The moment serves as a chilling preface to Urban Death Vegas, a gruesome, no-holds-barred stage show from the creators of ABANDON that’s comprised of a series of horror-themed vignettes ranging in tone from peak macabre body horror to irreverent black comedy. Simply put, nothing is too far or off the table.
Set to run every weekend night through November 1, the hour-long production may hit like a chain-link fence to a zombie’s face for those who are unprepared to witness several fully nude and sometimes violent or sexual scenes centered around exploring mankind’s worst inclinations. Within the first few entries, it becomes clear that this is the last place one should consider enjoying an evening out with their children or grandparents.
Every increment ends with a fade to pitch black darkness, which ultimately serves as an apt setup for chilling jump scares, unhinged antics and subversive stage configurations.
At one point, the complete cast of eight dances naked under a strobe light, their limbs writhing and contorting themselves around one another to some fat beats like undead performers who lacked enough energy to get a gig in the Thriller music video. In another, a different actor checks their purse and offers a frustrated expression before pulling a tampon from under their dress to use as a makeshift tube of lipstick.
Now and then, the mood is lightened slightly with comedic interjections from a washed-up, lonesome Elvis who’s just trying to keep the fun going against all odds. Often, the humor and horror intermingle, with the scariest such example being a lone traffic cone that takes center stage by itself when the lights return. Oh, the humanity.
The no-frills technical prowess of the production team also shines throughout as they frequently make use of the intersection between light and darkness to influence the viewers’ perspective. Picture a barely distinguishable, dimly lit alien-like creature crawling toward you on all fours, spewing weird intelligible murmurs before disappearing without a trace. Moments later, your vision returns to reveal another character in dollish regalia who’s suspended in mid-air over the stage.
The cast of Tyler Borresch, Randy Hample, Sammy Jo, Karla Lagunas, Austin Parrales, Giulia Piolanti, Jess Sabine and Bailee Bob Sveen are polished and cohesive in their ability to convey a slew of emotions and characters in bite-sized, largely unconnected snippets. Impressively, they’re able to deliver on these tonal shifts while also swapping out outfits in what seems like record time.
In that sense, the format is akin to a clip show like Robot Chicken, but with taboo segments that can incorporate sinister subjects like live birth and cannibalism (you can probably put two and two together). It’s definitely not for the faint of heart, but the bravest and boldest thrill-seekers in Vegas may walk away wishing more forms of entertainment could cross so excessively far past the line of standard decorum.
There’s so much more to see, including skilled “elderly” contortionists, incest-laden shock horror, human buttcheck buffets, Bloody Mary summoning rituals, and even references to real-world fears like the potential atrocities of rogue I.C.E. agents.
Some of the vignettes may stick the landing more than others, depending on the viewer, but the cast and crew’s collective passions is undeniably evident in both their performances and attention to the smaller details.
The contents of each show may also vary from night to night, meaning this recap could very well be just a single take on its initial iteration. The only way to know for sure is to be brave enough to see it for yourself—if you can stomach it.
URBAN DEATH Thru November 1, Friday - Sunday, 7:30 p.m., $30-$45, Vegas Theatre Company, theatre.vegas.
.png)
 
            
            
            
                
                
                    







 English (US)  ·
                        English (US)  ·