“Chaos, comedy, and camp – welcome to the apocalypse“
Maggie Dickinson’s Stanislavski Can’t Save Me From the Apocalypse, produced by Cate Johannessen, is a wildly inventive and darkly comic triumph. From the very first scene, the play throws you into disarray: five camp counsellors, the only adults left, must suddenly care for over forty campers after the world collapses, with a restricted amount of food, electricity and only their wits to survive. What makes the storytelling so engaging is its reverse chronological structure. Opening a month into the apocalypse, the play works backwards revealing step by step how these women arrived at this absurdly precarious situation. It’s clever, fast-paced and full of surprises; the backwards approach turns every line, action and every joke into a puzzle for the audience to piece together, making the experience immersive and unexpectedly thrilling.
The plot itself is delightfully chaotic. Life takes a shocking turn when the five counsellors become responsible for the children after the final day of camp. Their artistic dreams collide with the brutal demands of survival, forcing women who once built imaginary worlds on stage to confront a starkly real one offstage. The tone blends dark comedy, surrealism and survival drama – there’s a playful campy energy, so that even the shocking opening scene where a finger is bitten off in a fight over a key lands as gloriously over-the-top.
As the play moves back in time, the counsellors’ scruffy, survival-worn outfits gradually give way to polished personality-revealing attire: Dani still has her contact lenses, Elizabeth’s scarf remains pristine, and every choice subtly reflects the character’s personality and prior self-image. The costumes play a key part in enriching the narrative and visual storytelling layer.
The cast is nothing short of phenomenal. Cate Johannessen’s Elizabeth is the comic powerhouse of the group. Loud, over-the-top, exuberant and endlessly funny, Elizabeth could easily become grating, yet Johannessen keeps her endlessly engaging. Her purple frilly scarf becomes a visual signature of her theatrical, messy, and utterly captivating personality. She screams, she sings, she performs exaggerated voices, and through it all, her timing and energy are impeccable. Lydia Hopgood’s Claire is a masterclass in charm. Sweet, desperate-to-please, and romantic, Claire could easily come across as naive, yet Hopgood imbues her with warmth, wit, and a subtle vulnerability. Her dramatic flair and tender presence perfectly balance the chaos around her. Frankie Minnock’s Mary is the unshakable anchor of the group, and Minnock embodies her with authority. Wise and commanding, Mary keeps both counsellors and campers in line, but Minnock also layers the character with small, human touches with moments of patience, humour and exasperation that make her feel entirely real. Her calm authority, amplified through the megaphone in between time jumps, never wavers, guiding the audience through the unfolding apocalypse. Christie Griffin’s Dani is irresistibly chaotic, and Griffin revels in every messy, over-the-top detail. Forever concerned with superficiality and her own dramatic flair even as society crumbles, Griffin makes her endlessly entertaining and charming. She brings perfect comic timing, emotional depth and an infectious energy that lights up every scene she’s in. Molly Wolff’s Erika is simply extraordinary. Practical, grounded and the group’s natural hunter, Erika could easily be overshadowed by the more flamboyant personalities around her but Wolff makes her unforgettable. Her performance is layered and compelling, and her stunning singing section adds another brilliant dimension to her character. She combines strength, vulnerability and talent in equal measure, giving Erika a presence that anchors and elevates the ensemble.
Dickinson’s writing is witty and fearless making the play clever, unexpected and wholly original. American cultural references from Glee to Nancy Drew pepper the dialogue, adding charm without ever feeling alienating to the British audience, while constant nods to theatre, performance, and the girls’ own acting ambitions reinforce the thematic core.
At its heart, Stanislavski Can’t Save Me From the Apocalypse is a celebration of women and theatre. These characters are unapologetic drama queens and their evident love for their craft radiates throughout the production. References to Twilight, Glee, and countless theatrical in-jokes make it clear that these are girls of their generation.
In every sense, this is a remarkable production. Inventive, hilarious, intelligent, and captivating, Stanislavski Can’t Save Me From the Apocalypse is utterly delightful. Maggie Dickinson’s writing, Johannessen’s production, and this extraordinary all-female ensemble combine to create theatre that entertains and never lets up.
Stanislavski Can’t Save Me From the Apocalypse runs until Saturday 9th May at Barons Court Theatre, London. Tickets are available here.