The Last of Us season 2 is still a couple months away; same with season 6 of The Handmaid’s Tale. But never fear, dear dystopia junkies – the VORTEX has got you covered. Get your fix of a world gone awry with playwright Sarah Saltwick’s Rabbits. It’s full of your standard post-apocalyptic fare: gruff bearded dude with a blue button-up (and yes, he has a beautiful daughter encapsulating all of mankind’s hope in the future). Tough-as-nails woman with a grubby white tank top and a pristine knife. Oppressive society forcing women into servitude. All topped with encroaching, insurmountable monsters scratching just beyond any illusion of safety.
But like any good dystopia, it’s not just about the surface-level story. The meat of Rabbits lies in what these characters and situations mean to the viewer – the stew of hope and despair and desperate want, served piping hot under stressful circumstances.
The meat of Rabbits lies in what these characters and situations mean to the viewer – the stew of hope and despair and desperate want, served piping hot under stressful circumstances.
The three-person cast deliciously serves up the pressure cooker of Saltwick’s story. Each actor relishes in their character’s hunger. There’s Jackson (Ryan Bradley, in his stage debut), the aforementioned facial-haired hero, whose desire for safety leaves him grasping for control. He exerts that through overprotection of his daughter, Dove (Myranda Molina, another debut), who longs for experiences she’s only heard of in stories. Their peace is disrupted by Cass (Kathleen Fletcher), the outsider yearning for freedom and relief from a world of terror.
Together, the trio creates a maelstrom of disruption. The cast plays tension well, with director Chris Fontanes hyping up tight layers of oppression at every turn. Bradley and Fletcher generate particular sparks in scenes of conflicting values. Their taut push-and-pull dynamic enriches story beats that could be staid, infusing them with marvelous magnetism. Both share tenderness with Molina, whose wide-eyed naivete could be grating, but who somehow manages to present endearing innocence over annoying ignorance. She offers a delicate, open-hearted affection for the other two characters. In turn, their desire to nurture Dove feels believable, even as they argue over what’s best for her shiny bright future.
Saltwick’s script creates a robust, full-flavored world. The surmounting threats in Rabbits are believable, with settings and lore bursting with futuristic dread you can really sink your teeth into. Every now and then the momentum stutters as characters pause to wax poetic to the audience about their feelings and fears and memories. These slight breaks work well during action sequences, helping bring to life unseen menaces, but they occasionally detract during scenes with interpersonal dramas we’d rather see than hear about. And yet, the writing in those monologues is incredibly rich. Those are the moments with satisfying literary turns of phrase that make a word lover’s heart sing. They build colorful descriptive landscapes, or add an extra dash of aching emotions to beats that might not work so clearly without pauses to world-build.
These are enhanced with the eerie scenes built by a talented production team. Johann Solo’s sound design captures rain and ocean and trees, punctuated by effective silences or evocative guitar strums composed by local band Marine Kimono. Scenic designer Ann Marie Gordon constructed a set that keeps a delicate balance of wildness and wonderland, working in harmony with Patrick Anthony’s lighting to craft a gritty story cut with rays of redemption.
Rabbits’ dystopia muses on an essential question: How do people respond to calamity? In a world with no simple answers, what is the path of least pain, or of most reward? Watching this show after a week of daily disasters – each overshadowed by a new horror – offered a good chance to parse out how I want to cope with living in a hellscape. Do we flee from the monsters at the gates? Or do we look the beast straight in the eyes and fight?
Rabbits
The VORTEX
Through February 15
This article appears in February 7 • 2025.
