Star Killing Machine pulls its own kill switch

Global annihilation through nuclear, chemical or biological means is terrifying. Who in their right mind wouldn’t fear it?

That’s what makes Star Killing Machine, a musical about the end of the world, such an interesting premise.

Now playing at the Backstage Theatre until Jan. 29, Edmonton playwright/director Clinton Carew’s musical is a time-stretching, tongue-in-cheek look at humanity’s fear of annihilation and the overwhelming likelihood that someone will push the button of destruction.

But while the presupposition is so intriguing, the actual three-act production is frustrating and disappointing because the whole is less than the sum of its parts.

And some of those parts genuinely create impact. With a next-to-nothing budget, set and light designer Kevin Green has built a two-storey research facility using hammer, glue and slick multi-media screen images.

Melodie Carew’s costumes are deceptively simple – lab coats and coveralls that radiate a cold, industrial vibe, and Scott Shepley’s trio of musicians provide an absorbing soundscape that shifts from pop/rock to razor edge weird.

The eight cast members, both veterans adding heft and young actors bursting with raw energy, appear to work 120 per cent, fusing their quirky characters into the picture.

The problem lies within Carew’s story and direction. It tries to cover too many bases and leaves the theatre patron with too little to chew on.

Star Killing Machine takes place in a sterile research facility just south of the Arctic Circle. Funded by unnamed big, big, big money, the facility’s scientists are tasked with inventing tools of mass destruction.

Up to the present date, the scientists dream up machines and stretch the tests out for as long as possible. After being declared unworkable, the projects are shelved and the scientists move on to the next fabrication. No one gets hurt. Everyone is happy.

As the play opens, Casey (Luc Tellier) returns to work after a two-month absence from suffering from a nervous breakdown where he sustains memory loss.

As memory fragments return, Casey realizes he’s built the ultimate doomsday machine and it’s a live wire ready for a hapless idiot to push the button.

As Star Killing Machine progresses, it becomes increasingly difficult to tell whether it’s a philosophical treatise that never gets off the ground or a second-rate comedic spoof that falls flat. It is neither fish nor fowl and at times comes across as a 1960s hallucinogenic trip on LSD.

It’s fun to watch a full cast slo-mo balletic dance rolling on office chairs. But what does it have to do with anything?

More importantly, too many characters zip on and off stage each with a storyline that is never fully explained. Throughout the musical, you spend way too much time and effort trying to figure out where Carew is going, only to realize the story has eluded you.

The concept behind Star Killing Machine’s Armageddon has the makings of a quick-witted, absorbing story, but it requires refocus and a serious overhaul.