‘Moving Creatures’ @ Ochre House Theater
Photos by Trent Stephenson
—Martha Heimberg
A coven of witchy figures dance in dusky light on a circular platform at the center of Ochre House Theater’s tight stage, babbling mysterious curses in Scottish accents. They move to the haunting music rising from a trio of wildly costumed musicians just offstage, whose marching song (about Piccadilly?) reverberates through the intimate house. What madness goeth here—and isn’t the MacBeth’s place around here somewhere?
With a shift of costumes and rising light, the scene changes—revealing a tall, snarling old man in red velvet robes (Matthew Posey), surrounded by swirling women in glittering costumes. An officious doctor wears a derby hat, and sports an enormous stethoscope twisted around his body. Is everybody here woke—or are we in a comically disturbing dream?
Whatever’s happening, we’re off and laughing with the crazy characters and the outlandish outfits of Moving Creatures, a political satire written and directed by Ochre House artistic director Matthew Posey, who also plays the looming, nasty Baron Leopold McDoogal, a bloated old fart whose greed and exploitation has destroyed the wealth and beauty of his once-happy country—while he eats flowers and leers after ever curvy tootsie.
Leopold doesn’t give a fig or a farthing if the people are starving, and the (relative) upper classes are bitching about the stench of dead children rotting in the streets. “So? Children die all the time,” says the Baron in his heavy Scottish accent. He blames the food crisis on migrant workers, who (he says) have stolen jobs from the locals, and spend their off-hours raping women. The Baron simply shoves his own cast-off ladies over makeshift balconies, but that’s different—he rules.
Dr. Bjork Tokkle, a sniveling German-accented quack played by Michael Stimac, quivers with joy as he stirs up an evil rumor—and assures Baron Leopold that his “discharges” mean he’s still breathing. As the doctor warns the Baron that people are marching in the streets, shouting band members leap onto the stage, but Leopold isn’t fazed. Meh, he shrugs: “Let them have their little protests, and go back to their normal lives.”
If this sounds insanely familiar, that’s because it’s tough to exaggerate—or avoid—an administration that delivers bizarre new directives every day. Still, the point is made and the sheer nuttiness of the onstage events form a satiric commentary pointing straight at today’s Washington politics.
The “moving creatures” of the play don’t just go round in ruminative circles; they regularly burst into original songs written by Polly Maynard—some about their past lives before the baron offed them, back when they were real women and not just his walking nightmares. Songwriter Maynard plays Abagail Hattie Horskoff, the baron’s favorite doxie; seeking revenge, she joins with Quinn Coffman as Murdering Maive, Kate Fisher as Stabby Abby, and Lauren Massey as Perilous Pearl. They sing polkas and marches and ballads, and literally stitch themselves back together in one ridiculously hilarious scene of female bonding. Massey sings “Knit One, Pearl Two” as they work fingers to the bone and plan a Blood Moon Festival.
Is there a hero in this zany, dark-comic sendup? Enter (in a balloon basket) a Latin lover and explorer named Bautista Bronya, played with dashing romantic zeal by Omar Padilla, an actor who can roll an eye and get a chuckle. Here, he even has a moustache to twirl—and you need to see this daring immigrant face the baron’s iron blade armed only with a swordfish.
The Ochre House team, which prides itself on its disregard for everyday logic, never lets an audience down when it comes to audacious visual puns, cleverly imagined sets (this one designed by Posey with input from Justin Locklear and Izk Davies), and the sheer energy of a skilled, energetic cast of actors and first-rate musicians. Never mind the clown wigs, this band is hot. Led by keyboardist Matthew McNabb, who also composed parts of the score, the trio includes Janet Dodd on percussion and Kate Fisher on guitar—everyone putting some admirable oomph into the songs and protests.
Ryan Matthieu Smith designed the richly textured, garish costumes, Kevin Grammer the lights, and Davies also crafted the light boxes enhancing the back of the set.
So down with evil barons and their hellish schemes! Laughter still is the best medicine, even when the supply of hope runs thin—and the laughter feels like a Hail Mary pass. Keep moving, you creatures…it ain’t over yet!
WHEN: May 9-24, 2025
WHERE: 825 Exposition Avenue, Dallas (Fair Park)
WEB: ochrehousetheater.org
