Unsweet Perdition

What I liked

There was a theatre of the absurd influence that was clear and coupled with a sexual tension that was thicker than water on a Thursday that’s been filtered hundreds of times…

What I didn't like

N/a

My overall impression

Don’t see this play if you’re looking for an emotionless, derivative production where the characters have zero depth. UNSWEET PERDITION is the exact opposite—alive with tension, nuance, humor, and a fierce emotional core.

Each character is sharply defined and walks through this world with their own intentions, contradictions, and needs. There’s no filler here—every moment feels like it matters, every interaction a layered negotiation. And just when you think you’ve sized someone up, their monologue cuts through the noise—personal, raw, and often gut-wrenching. Each one may pull at your heartstrings in ways you didn’t expect.

Evan’s writing is so precise poetic and powerful, I’m inclined to believe every word of Dam jargon as gospel. The dialogue crackles with specificity, balancing poetic rhythm with raw urgency. You’re never ahead of the play—it unfolds with a kind of inevitability that still surprises.

The composition is the perfect accompaniment to the mood. Subtle undertones mimic the actors’ words with a kind of sonic intuition, enhancing the emotional weight without ever overpowering it. It’s an invisible character in the best sense—present, guiding, responding.

This is storytelling that respects its audience. It doesn’t spoon-feed. It invites you into the mess, the ache, the sharp corners of unsweet truths—and it lingers. Where truth cuts deep and every word leaves a scar.