Philly Fringe 2018: Savannah Reich’s ‘Pestilence: Wow!’

Chicago-based writer/director Savannah Reich made her Philly Fringe debut with this occasionally trenchant romp, staged with an ensemble of eight (Kyle Jackson, Gina Murdock, Monica Wiles, Sterling Melcher, Mr. Stine, Irina Varina, Brandon Drummond, and Shaina Kapeluck) at Panorama Philly.

Getting to the bottom of it

The year is 1348 and the place is Avignon, France. One-third of the town has died of the bubonic plague, and as Reich puts it, “the other two-thirds is extremely freaked out.” There’s only one thing to do: put on a show and get to the bottom of it.

What followed was difficult to decipher, but so are the causes of an epidemic.

It was reality TV in the Middle Ages as five survivors duked it out under a maniacally effulgent game-show host in a gold hat fit for a royal wedding.

Agnes, a humpbacked, pockmarked widow obsessed with goats, already looked contagious. Alphonse the serf found the plague pretty okay so far. Raoul, with a more aristocratic bent, took a pragmatic yet scornful approach. Georgette, a wispy artist, wanted a decent choreographic residency at a nearby castle. And Simone just wanted her ideas to be honored in the space while they checked in with each other about what to do.

Through reality-show tropes like interview snippets, unexpected alliances, schmaltzy screen tributes, and team challenges, the survivors tackled questions about the plague in a mix of dialogue, song, and exuberantly weird choreography and music.

The big questions

What is the plague? Should we definite it by science or interpretive dance? What is the worst thing about the plague? Is it that we can’t cure it? That bodies are stacked like lasagna? Whose fault is the plague? If we can all agree that the plague is a punishment from God, what is the punishment for?

“It’s always someone’s fault,” said Georgette, who was upset because a lot of patrons had died, in addition to peasants.

Emily Cross's costumes contained simple but effective detail for each member of the well-characterized ensemble, from the bangs jutting out of Alphonse’s cap to curly-toed shoes. Unfortunately, with the audience sitting in a few packed rows on either side of a narrow runway-style stage, some of the action and dialogue was lost (especially on the floor, unless you were in the front row). Words projected on a curtain formed a coda I couldn’t read from my seat.

But the overall scope of the production, mixing live original music and video projections with a sizeable cast for a Fringe show at the Fringiest of venues (which, frankly, looks ready to burn down any minute), was impressive. Reich’s script works best when it implies bigger questions about who’s responsible for mass tragedies and how we quantify them and cope. The next time we get into a Facebook argument about the death of our democracy, we can probably relate to Raoul’s lament: “The worst thing about the plague is this conversation.”