At a time when a small, very homogenous group of people are seizing power here in the United States and trying to make sure everyone is falling perfectly in line with their orders and world view, a time where mass deportations are the goal of the current administration leaving thousands at risk of being stuck stranded somewhere without a proper home, a time where massive wildfires around Los Angeles have left tens of thousands of people without their homes and with practically nothing left to return to, and all of this is only reflecting what is happening in our own national borders let alone in other countries – in short, at a time when the political climate is in turmoil and so many people even close to home have found themselves unexpectedly displaced or at risk of it, it’s important for us in the U.S. to have art that challenges us. And often artists make a great show of having a message in their work. (beyond) Doomsday Scrolling is the most genuinely, completely political theater I have ever seen. And quite possibly one of the most important pieces too.

A director’s note in the program and posted in large reproduction on the door to the theater states that the piece is “our resistance” and most shows would find that big words to fill or a touch pretentious. Doomsday can only be seen as an act of protest. It’s a protest crying out against all forces keeping people, especially disadvantaged groups and women and children, in subjugation. In proper Brechtian fashion, it starkly demands witness – In this case, witness for all those refugees and displaced persons around the globe whose lives were turned upside down by war or natural disaster.

The director’s note (a collaborative devised piece created by the ensemble on stage, iterations of which have been around following the invasion of Ukraine by Russia in 2022, it was directed by Kathryn Mederos Syssoyeva) makes sure to prepare audiences for what they’re about to experience. It’s not a story with a narrative; even if it was, the international ensemble on stage is speaking in just under a dozen different languages so nobody is really expected to understand every word being said. That’s exactly the point.

It’s showing a group of women huddled in a refugee camp, some makeshift shelter where they all come together trying to make camp and share food and do the best they can with what they have. They come from all over the world – they don’t have a language in common. How they communicate with one another is in gestures, in expression, in action. That’s how they want to make themselves understood to the audience as well. It’s a powerful and effective choice – We don’t know the backstories of most of these women, we cling to the dialogue we understand for context (for most of the audience, that being the chunks of English), but we’re forced to connect with these women on a deeper and more basic, or at least more emotional, level. You don’t need to hear every word to see sadness, anger, or small moments of triumph.

One of the strengths of the show is it comes from a team coming from countries all around the world with their own histories or family histories relevant to the material. The performers are from Ukraine, Poland, Italy, Moldova, China, Cuba, Iceland, Turkey, and the U.S. It drives home the point that refugees come from all over. That disaster can happen to anyone. And by highlighting headlines from the past century from across the globe (some as recent as the past week), it shows the scope historically and geographically of these issues.

Stylistically, Brechtian is the best way to describe Doomsday. Not only does it reference Brecht’s plays significantly, the blatantly theatrical staging (actors holding lights to illuminate their castmates, pieces of fabric hung from strung up pieces of rope to create stage curtains, musical numbers) take from his playbook. Syssoyeva’s staging is dynamic. In places, it gets chaotic enough the audience has no place to focus, until pulled in again by some dominating presence or moment. The balance between ensemble members is a beautiful shared flow about who’s front and center.

The set by Lesya Verba (also a performer in the show) is a cluttered but cohesive tangle of blankets and banners that feels timeless and unspecific except you know right away this is a place quickly made into a shelter out of necessity. Jake Smith’s lighting design is beautifully fitting, often dimly lit aided by practical lights on stage or starkly theatrical. And Liam Grandsard’s sound design provides an incredible soundscape to everything. All of the design elements feel perfectly in sync with one another.

At the heart of it all is the energy and passion of the ensemble of performers. Verba, Alina Mihailevschi, Claudia Godi, Diana Zhdanova, Jeremy Goren, Kikki Lau, Merve Atabek, Simona DeFeo, Tia Cassmira, Wilhelmina Olivia-Garcia, Weronika Wozniak, and Ylfa Edelstein make up the cast. It’s impossible to single any of them out over the other because they all support one another so brilliantly and play off each other so well in a piece designed to work for a group. Suffice it to say, they are all enthralling to watch.

(beyond) Doomsday Scrolling is a unique piece of theater. Not everyone is going to like it because of that, and there’s no shame in wanting theater that is narrative and supplies a neat 3 act structure. That’s not what Doomsday is though, and that’s what makes it so compelling. It asks not for perfect understanding, but for you to simply watch. To try and have an open mind. That’s all – watch and consider what you’ve seen. These people have faced great hardships but even if you can’t understand their language, they don’t have to be invisible.