It’s officially spooky season.

With the first October Friday the 13th since 2017, it’s only fitting that I and a giddy crowd funnel into the Dome at BATS Theatre.

We’ve all written down a fake title for a spooky film and placed it in a dingy looking bucket in the lobby. We discuss amongst ourselves what we’ve put each put in. It’s a genius bit of play that generates a ton of pre-show buzz, so much that a queue forms early to get into the damn show.

Upon walking in, we are greeted with an ominous screen. Some audience members are savvier and know what it’s for. Others wonder what sort of were-giraffe could possibly required a bedsheet that long. Regardless of what side you’re on, there’s an undeniable tension.

A spoof horror movie introduction is projected onto the back of the stage. It replaces the traditional ‘director’ standing in front of the audience, explaining the format of the show. It works perfectly. The audience is gasping and laughing along to the gags, pointing in recognition at the cast that re-enact scenes from the B-est of horror films. Then, the title is revealed:

‘The Singing Girl With No Mouth’

The audience cheers. It could have been anything up there, and the audience would have cheered, such is the buzz of the night. Now we have our premise, it’s time to let the scenes begin.

Imogen Behan-Willett plays a newly-qualified journalist and owns the stage with her youthful energy and emotional depth, from joyful enthusiasm to heartbreaking gasps. Franziska Maciej makes her long-form debut initially as Behan-Willett’s mostly absent partner, but develops over the course of the show into an entity that can hold her own in the space. Luke Rimmelzwaan gives incredible Darth Vader vibes; a choice that pays off immensely later down the track. Matías Avaca both makes and receives bold offers, while spinning them into magic every time. Bianca Casusol is the emotional heart of the first half of the show, and it’s gut-wrenching when her character is taken away so soon. Rounding out the cast is Luke Foale who finds the drama in every scene they’re in, harnessing it to turn mere scenes into real, meaty stories.

Of course, this is a horror, and we have to talk about the monster.

I’m not certain if this was a deliberate direction from Morrison, or an organic tease out on stage, but the decision to have the monster hidden off-screen is both terrifying and hilarious. Having the monster appear as an actor on-stage would be difficult, if not impossible, but by making sure we, the audience, never see it, it maintains its aura of mystery and horror. That leaves one, tiny, problem: how do you represent the threat to the audience when it does manifest?

Enter the screen.

With a clever use of backlighting, flexible staging and that giant screen on the stage, the performers create a tapestry of shadows that show scenes that would be too gory to air on television, but would look a little bit silly live on stage. The shadows allow the the performers to go hard on the death scenes and manipulate props, objects, even their own bodies to convey the uncanny fear that the characters are all facing. One by one, cast members take their turns behind the screen and the audience loves it every time.

It’s this sort of production value that pushes the medium forward. When innovation presents itself like this, you cannot turn away. The audience loves it. They crave to see more. I can envision entire shows being done through shadow puppetry. It’s outstanding work.

It Came From Beyond the Script is a glorious love letter to horror. What starts off as a parody of a B-Horror ends up being a wholesome reflection on the horrors of the past and how we can overcome them with a bit of music and the power of will. I truly hope it makes a return in some form or another.

A straight-to-VHS sequel, perhaps.

Disclosure: As a somewhat active member of the Wellington improv community, I am quite familiar with some of the performers in this show.
Having said that, I am not a liar, and there is zero bias in my reviews, shut up.