Cool lights cast a haunting kaleidoscope of blue and violet, red ropes lay across the paneled floor of the bedroom scene like spilled guts, and garish mirrors amplify the hallucinogenic perception of a possessed object. Winds howl and windows feel like they could be shattered. As the lights dim, my survival instincts viscerally kick in from the cushioned seat of the second row—I fear I’ll be taken by a demon from hell.
I stumbled upon The AV Club on my Instagram feed while browsing the promotional poster for its upcoming show, Unravel. Immediately hooked by the poster’s visuals of a faceless doll falling apart at the seams, with its yarn forming the “L” in the show’s main title, I scrolled through The AV Club’s entire profile and was shocked by two things: first, that Unravel is the fourth show The AV Club is premiering this month, and second, that the earliest post dates back only to Sept. 9 of this year.
Perhaps the most striking aspect of this club’s productions is its emphasis on horror. I initially thought this focus was merely for the Halloween season, but I soon learned it is a core tenet of The AV Club’s creative personality. For Reva Stove—a director, playwright, actor, and producer of The AV Club—horror is a vessel for spotlighting diverse perspectives.
As she comments, “Horror looks so different culturally across time in decades. … [The hope] is that we're going to learn what horror means to a slew of different people from different backgrounds and their different lived experiences.”
Camille James, a playwright and actor with the AV Club, emphasizes that horror has its role in activism. “What fear does is it makes you question what you know, what you don't know, and questions breed conversation. Conversation breeds action.” She further adds that horror doesn’t receive enough respect for its ability to drive social change, positing that The AV Club serves as a breeding ground for powerful ideas.
While horror is often seen as a spectacle of the grotesque, it’s also a potent tool for binding a community. There’s a lot at stake from a thematic standpoint, yet the atmosphere of “The Birds Nest”—the club’s charmingly decorated stage nestled in the intimate living room of its quaint household venue—brings together a casual space aligned with the club’s mission: to build a community around horror.
Noah Mannix, a playwright and producer of The AV Club, highlights the club's focus on the aspect of community building that theatre inherently makes, which is bringing an audience in. According to Mannix, “The weekly new play format really helps with that, because people return each week ‘who just had to see the new AV Club Play.’” Episodic horror is a style of playwriting that hasn’t been seen before in Philadelphia, and Mannix is eager to see future renditions of it from The AV Club’s various creatives—each bringing a new voice and idea to experiment with each week.
Last Saturday’s theme was dolls. On a crisp night in West Philly, I attended Unravel, written by Imani Alyse, directed by Caitlin Alvarez, stage-managed by Leena Tran, and starring Journee Lutz, Gia Folino, and Evan Mayorga. The play explored the torment of two “dollies,” who were manifestations of the pain experienced by their “maker.” In a gripping 30–minute dialogue between just three actors, my eyes were glued to the intense splattering of emotions on the stage—the sharp, high–pitched frequencies swarming the doll’s ears, their desperate screeches clamoring for an unattainable cure, and the unraveling of their fabric elucidating the fickle nature of their existence.
On the edge of my seat, I prayed for the dollies’ safety who were at the mercy of the “angel on the roof,” depicted by a bright yellow spotlight cascading down the upper–level staircase neighboring the stage. As Unravel approached its climax, I felt a swift rush of adrenaline; the angel crept down the staircase like a ghostly Grim Reaper hungry to claim the souls of its next victims. The slow creaking of the floor panels exacerbated the room’s stone–cold silence, leaving my heart palpitating and eyes dilated out of fear for my own life. Suddenly, the lights turned on again, and the angel joined the two dollies on stage, taking a bow for a relieved yet engrossed audience. Applause permeated the room. I felt the warmth of the space return, only to be greeted by an even warmer production crew.
I discovered that Unravel was produced in the span of a week—its script written in three days and rehearsed in two. That’s right—the play hadn’t existed a week ago. The quality of the sound effects, coordinated lighting, and dynamic vocal performances suggested otherwise. Now it was a full production, set to cycle into the next play the following week. Playwright Imani Alyse described the rewarding chaos of writing an entire manuscript in just a couple of days. Our conversation eventually pivoted to dinosaur nuggets and vegetables. Even after one night, I already feel like a member of The AV Club’s growing community.
A combination of adventure, adrenaline, and the arts, The AV Club is a whimsical entertainment spot for a cool Friday or Saturday night, just a ten–minute drive or 30–minute walk from campus. If you want to be immersed, pleasantly horrified, and part of a vibrant community eager to welcome your curiosity for theatre, stay updated on their latest shows at @theavclubphilly for a manageable price of $5–$15 per show. This Halloween night, The AV Club is hosting a binge event where you can experience back–to–back plays from this month’s horror episodes. Yes, costumes are encouraged (though not strictly necessary), and yes, it will have its own concession stand. Plays start at 8 p.m., Oct. 31, at 438 S 48th St. There will be signs to guide you to its not–so–obvious and all–the–more–ominous backdoor entrance.
Though horror sells, it does more than just elicit a reaction from its audience. It catalyzes stories with biting social commentary—a confrontation of the darker evils that plague our past and present humanity while twisting the boundaries of the psyche and the supernatural. So, submerge yourself in horror, not just for the thrill that brings a sharp pit to your stomach, but to contemplate the statements horror aims to showcase, and to learn something new in the process.
