REVIEW: Over It @ Grr Nights, Fringe

Words by: Emily Schofield-Cox

Through a mix of odd theatre experiences and a deep childhood instillation of stranger danger, I have a whole lot of trepidation about entering a small, dark, makeshift hut with strangers. Grr Nights’ Over It thoroughly debunked this fear.

I had confused my tickets and times in my head and consequently had no idea what I was heading into when I was shepherded through the very cute Blue Room Theatre in Northbridge to the end of the hallway and into the yurt that Grr Nights loves so much. When the show opened and a lady in a long red dress with a heavy Californian accent announced that she had a strong, lifelong obsession with the apocalypse, I thought that I had really fucked up.

But the show is as funny as it is genuinely touching. Loren Kronemyer, with the help of an age old picture projector and record player, intertwined the world’s experience with apocalypses with her own life story of paranoia, big blow ups and huge changes; her own apocalypse.

Her story revolves around the need she felt to live as her ancestors had — off the grid. Her talk of experiences that saw her attempt to fulfil this need within her life that ultimately compounded her paranoia elicited a mixed reaction within me: on one hand, I felt as if some part of me yearned for that same freedom of dominion, but another found it humbling; as much as we fear an apocalyptic fate deep within the fabric of our society, we still find more comfort walking down the beaten path (be it to certain doom or not) than straying off on our own.

I don’t want to tell you anymore than that because I really think that you should go and listen to Loren explain the history of apocalypses and her own close calls with them for yourself. As someone who went through the pre-teen stage of having constant sleepless nights as I worried about the world ending (and as someone who still occasionally relapses into this fear), this show was a warm, tight hug from someone who gets it.

She’ll give you baked goods that don’t taste good, advice on how to deal with your fear of impending doom, and the feeling that, in a room of strangers, you have found a friend. This show is a highlight for Grr Nights, and a wonderful, intimate stop during the hustle and bustle of the wilder side of Fringe. I definitely recommend checking it out, if only to listen to an electric harp played while you eat dry peanut butter flour.