An Incomplete List of All the Things I'm Going to Miss
When the World is No Longer: penguins and ice cream
13Jul 2023

by Drew Rowsome - Photos by Kris Yue and Grayson Compton

One of the things I'm going to miss when the world is no longer is musicals. Unfortunately it won't be the specific musical An Incomplete List of All the Things I'm Going to Miss When the World is No Longer. Billed as "a cutting-edge, queer pop fantasia that takes a bold and thought-provoking look at death, life after death, and life amid the ongoing downfall of the human race. This electrifying and emotional journey is set against the sci-fi, futuristic backdrop of a global announcement of the exact time Earth --as we know it-- will cease to exist," An Incomplete List is a valiant attempt with a hard-working and talented cast. The excitement begins with the news that the show is sold out (on a Monday!) and as we enter to find our seats, the cast—featuring an impressive array of races, genders and body types and all fetchingly attractive—is already bristling with energy, traversing the stage in a choreographed milling about. We can hear what sounds like train station or airport announcements in the background. These move into the foreground with "The world will undergo it final stages of termination in 16 days. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your time on planet earth."

The disembodied voice (Michelle Yu) then slips into vocoder mode and states "You are challenging the ordinary just by being alive." The Laurie Anderson allusion is possibly deliberate as writer, composer, lyricist and director Dante Green appears to be quite fond of epigrammatic and allusive statements that portend deep meaning. But before we get to those, Micah (Max Borowski) sashays to the front of the stage and, channelling the "Reach Out and Touch" segment of a Miss Ross concert, demands we introduce ourselves to our neighbours. The cast spills off the stage to make sure that this happens. Is the sci-fi, futuristic element a critique or a celebration of totalitarianism? Is it totalitarianism when they are frantically endeavouring to induce a good time and bonhomie? It turns out that the production is set in the future and the disembodied voice is now a Star Trek computer (it can make coffee appear)/Alexa hybrid with shades of Hal. It's name is Ellie. A few plotlines emerge as the characters struggle to deal with the earth's imminent demise.

 
Micah and his partner in crime Pruitt (Ryan MacDougall) want to party, in both senses of the word, right up to the end, with Pruitt also trying to proclaim his unrequited and unexpressed love for Micah. Their fellow party-enthusiast Karina (Elysia Cruz) is in love with John (Jameson Mosher) and what she wants on the last day is ice cream, a detail that should be poignant. John may be real or he may be dead or he may never have existed and has been created holographically by Ellie as a memory of his mother, Louise Camilleri (Rock of Ages) playing 'Trust.' His father Orlin (Nathan Farmer), who is just as confused as to the extent of John's existence, is a horn dog and is pursuing Melody (Veronique Beaudet). Chris Tsujiuchi (A Very Chris-tical Christmas Cabaret, Porchside Songs, The Rocky Horror Show, Unravelled, Parade, Box 4901, Onegin) is Peter, best friend or annoyance to all, wanders in and out and gifts a stuffed penguin to Trust and wisdom to Orlin. Through it all a large ensemble—Mara Turenne, Shaemus Swets, Evans Niog, Annika Tupper, Taj Crozier, Erine Palmaria, Tkaiai Green, Honey Pham, Lara Angela Roda and Sid Malcolm—drift in the background and surface to provide astoundingly sweet choral back-up harmonies.

Occasionally characters ponder what it will be like "after," but no-one seems overly concerned. Einstein, the Marquis de Sade and Frida Kahlo are quoted but for the end of the world, it is an intellectual exercise. However characters are inspired to break into mid-tempo, backed by a sparse electronic soundtrack, snippets of song that end just as the singer, and there are great singers in An Incomplete List, are building to a passionate fervour. Musical coitus interruptus. As soon as I let go of narrative and thematic crutches and realized that the dialogue was actually lyrics as well—Orlin's pick-up lines are a refrain, there is fascinating overlapping dialogue where duets become quartets involving other plotlines—An Incomplete List became less of a puzzle and more of an immersion. Sung through, music can express elusive emotions without having to worry about coherence, An Incomplete List might be spectacular, Green's melodic gift is much in evidence. Then Micah returns in a fetching orange ensemble, Ellie releases hallucinogens into the air, and a full-scale frenetic song and dance number begins. The party at the end of the world.

Micah exhorts the audience to join the cast on stage and about half the audience eagerly complies. They seems to have great fun struggling to imitate Alyssa Martin's choreography with its fusion of ballet, jazz hands and spasticity. This is the essence of the Fringe, where everyone is a potential star. From the line-up with its hard and soft sell flyering, to the lottery system that attempts access to anyone with a great idea, concept or talent, the Fringe is all about participation. And most of those on the stage were revelling in being onstage. The entire cast sang/chanted "There's a special kind of person who's alive between the lines," and some of the ensemble chided and mocked those of us who remained in our seats. I guess we were dead within the lines. As the number limped to a close and the ensemble hustled their temporary compatriots off the stage and back to their seats, I saw my chance. It wouldn't be the end of the world if I slipped into the crowd and slipped out. So I did. So if there was another big number in the five minutes remaining that provided a climax, tied up the plotlines and sent the audience singing and dancing into the streets, I missed it. But I will always ponder the penguin and the ice cream and wonder just what I would miss, what I would do, when the world is no longer.