My overall impression
In Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Mola Ram reaches slowly into a sacrifice’s chest and pulls out his still beating heart. In the remarkable production of The Fire Room, writer Meghan Brown manages to do the same to the audience. Only she hold the heart up to the light, lets it feel the sunshine, and then kisses it warmly and pushes it back into your chest stronger and better. It’s poetic yet punk rock, lyric yet laugh-out-loud, and fearless, dynamic, and touching. Only a hour long, the fugitive kind builds an entire magical purgatory with its own set of rules and then spins a wistfully simply and yet richly complex narrative. I hesitate to call it a love story, because that so dismissive and simplistic, but it is that. A romance, told with spirit and sass, and outstandingly performed by the vibrant cast. I was still reeling at the end. Such a phenomenal production and an absolute must-see.
