Magdaléna Škerenčák
In Czech language, the word for “theatre” (divadlo) comes from the word “to look” (dívat se), so it feels contra-intuitive to watch a show happening almost entirely in the dark. Yet, there are so many common experiences in our lives that happen in the dark – we sleep, we dream, we fear. The Mothman Cometh guides us gently and lovingly through a set of new shared experiences – we dance, we sing, we laugh hysterically for an hour… It is highly intimate, yet communal. It is sassy, spooky and strange, yet we’re held safely throughout in the palm of the Mothman’s hand claw. We’re hugged by the Darkness.
The absence of other visual inputs outside of the glowing red eyes of the Mothman immediately creates intrigue and it is very easy to spot the expert-level proficiency in object manipulation of the performer Richie Schiraldi. Out of two red circles and a ringing voice in the darkness, a full character is born – both hilariously ominous and lovingly obnoxious at the same time. His likability is akin to everyone’s favourite No Face character from Spirited Away, he makes us feel a whole range of emotions and it’s stunning to watch how easily he moulds his audience. The darkness helps this process, it brings freedom, not embarrassment. It allows us to fully, loudly, wholeheartedly participate in this experience. The show borders on an immersive role-play game or a ritual where time disappears and we catch ourselves wishing it would never end.
Shows that rely heavily on audience participation can often be a fail or a success each night depending on what the audience brings. This show doesn’t carry that risk as Schiraldi is a brilliant and skilful improviser, never letting us feel any cringe or awkward silence if the scene is not going as he expected. We can sense he adores and honestly enjoys being on stage and it’s contagious. It’s a simple equation – we enjoy the show, because he enjoys every second of it too. The audience interaction varies greatly in intensity and length of each scene, which adds to the playful nature and rhythm of the show. The Mothman is also a walking jukebox of the greatest sing along hits including Bohemian Rhapsody, Pink Pony Club and other absolute bangers. It remains a mystery to me how it happened, but suddenly I realised everyone in the audience is singing loudly and perfectly out of tune together with the Mothman. This further proves the level of emotional safety of the interactions created by the combination of the physical darkness and Schiraldi’s mastery of handling the audience.
Among songs and laughter and suggestive humour however, there are moments of stillness and reflection. This is a perfect example of a show piercing straight to the soul of the audience and resonating there long after it’s over. It doesn’t stay on the surface of its form and doesn’t force a story onto us, it actively recruits us to feel, it metaphorically (and literally) steps off the stage to guide us through our anger, fear and loneliness and creates a rare form of intimacy between strangers. It goes all the way back to the very roots of theatre – the shared experience between human beings. The darkness allows us to be vulnerable, open and true to ourselves to the core. The pretence falls when we’re allowed to hide our fear and shame in the dark and to be illuminated by nothing but the Mothman’s omniscient eyes.
His darkness is sometimes soft, inviting and introspective, other times hysterical, loud and hilarious – nothing to be afraid of. Be the flame in the darkness, go befriend the Mothman. He’s an absolute joy to be around. One Mothman to every family!
RECOMMENDED DRINK: Frozen Mezcal Bloody Mary ice lolly – it’ll match his eyes and his vibe. It’ll be equally strange and delightful, also you won’t risk to spill it in the complete darkness.
Raynar Rogers
Salvador Kent
