The set is minimal, the theatrical smoke is heavy, and the soundtrack is early 2000s. As the opening-night audience pours into the Frederic Wood Theatre, they have no idea they’re in for two-plus hours of dissection of art and our relationship to it, all through the lens of an imaginary episode of The Simpsons.
This was the atmosphere at opening night of Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play, performed and crewed by students and staff from the UBC theatre and film department. Anne Washburn’s Mr. Burns, is, on the surface, about the Simpsons and the apocalypse: the show opens on survivors of a near-future environmental collapse (likely due to nuclear disaster) trying to recall the details of “Cape Feare,” the second episode of the show’s fifth season. As the story progresses the convention of remembering that episode becomes less of a survival tactic and more of a financial tool (with theatre troupes performing episodes live, and paying audience members for the rights to lines they remember), eventually warping “Cape Feare” into something unrecognizable by the third, unbelievable act.
Throughout the show Washburn presents how nostalgia and art can become things people cling to in traumatic situations, and what can happen to the art we know under pressure. Without electricity, without society, the pop culture that characters remember becomes something they clung to – eventually serving as a livelihood, and later as something akin to a religion. The play also incorporates a wide timeline into its’ three-act structure, with act one occurring perhaps next week, act two seven years later and act three 75 years after that.
Mr. Burns can be considered an abstract piece of theatre. The show begins with very little exposition or description of the event that caused the evident societal collapse, the new social conventions presented in act two are never explained and act three needs to be seen to be believed. However this can be considered part of the show’s charm — with no exposition, Mr. Burns can apply to a variety of contexts, and thus works well as a part of UBC’s Climate Emergency Week 2025. Climate Emergency Week consists of workshops and activities aimed at connecting different communities involved in climate action, and with its’ themes of post-apocalypse and nuclear collapse, Mr. Burns fits right in.
Even without this context, audiences were able to absorb and understand Mr. Burns thanks to the incredible work of the cast and crew. The set began very functional and minimal, eventually growing in size and scale until the third act, when archways and a humongous boat rolled onto the stage. The scale of the production, and the variations within this scale, were incredible. The show’s lighting, particularly the lightning effects in the third act, was remarkably precise for an opening night performance.
Costuming was functional and varied, from the torn and tattered clothes of apocalypse survivors to the Simpsons-esque Commedia Dell’arte masks and incredible wig design in act three. These drastic changes allowed actors to jump from scene to scene with ease, and enabled audiences to follow them with minimal confusion.
The show’s cast of seven was tight, polished ensemble perfection. Throughout the first act there was a subtle sense that something was missing, quickly resolved in act two when two new performers entered the stage. Immediately we realized we had been missing these performers. While act one was great — there’s something to be said about the appeal of a conversational scene where all performers speak overtop one another — this ensemble shone the brightest together, bringing the best out of each other at every turn.
While all performers were strong and focused, several delivered incredible standout moments. Isabel Salazar as Maria delivered a long, conversational monologue — which may have fallen flat in less practiced hands — with precision and sincerity. Cassandra Billy’s act one performance was magnetizing despite her not saying a single word, and her growth through the remainder of the show was phenomenal. Finally, Kyle Deslippe’s varied and often musical performance went from the highest highs to the lowest lows, until his eventual villain turn as the titular Mr. Burns in the final act.
One of the more surprising things was how much music was featured throughout. Every act had singing, with almost the entirety of act three being sung. These sections, especially “Chart Hits” in act two, were performed with maximum effort and sincerity, making the nostalgia of hearing old chart-toppers all the more significant. The cast and crew approached choreography, harmonization and characterization with confidence, and the audience absolutely loved it. Indeed, the audience could be heard clapping, cheering, laughing and audibly responding to the events onstage.
However, some parts of the production could have used some slight adjustments. The theatrical smoke, while effective, was often too much — it would roll into the audience and occasionally provoke coughing. Softer, more emotional lines from some characters were hard to hear, especially if characters were standing sideways or with their backs to the audience. Finally, given the enormous set and costume changes required for the final act, intermission didn’t happen until about an hour-and-a-half into the two-hour show.
Mr. Burns wants the audience to think about their relationship to art, and to nostalgia. The show — and the cast and crew who put it together — presents a world where nostalgia for the art of a bygone era becomes as good as currency, as good as survival, as good as religion. If the world ended tomorrow, what would people cling to? What would they do to retain that normalcy? The performers and creative team do not give the audience the answer — that’s for them to decide.
Mr. Burns runs Wednesday to Saturday, 7:30-10 until from November 19-December 6. The Ubyssey filmed a behind-the-scenes documentary on the production of Mr. Burns which you can watch here.
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