At a party in the woods under a blanket of snow in an anonymous place almost anything
and everything is possible. The six guests (and the maid), armed with an endless supply of
cocaine and enough money for an army to snort it with, waste no time in getting high and
staying there. Songs are sung, clothes removed, moves are made and buttons are pressed in
stunningly stylized moments played out by the cast as their chemically elevated selves. But if
life is like an elevator, this one soars high and falls hard.

Phillip McMahon’s text is poetic, devastating and at times hilarious as it meanders seamlessly
from the heights of the characters’ artificial elation to the basement blows of sobering
downers, acute paranoia, depression and one unexpected (and tightly choreographed) outburst
of violence. The cream leather suite makes for an appropriately minimal centre piece as the
three men and four women prance, dance, perch and pass out upon it. The stage at times
became strewn with entwined mic leads which caused a few wobbly-footed moments among
the drugged and high-heeled female characters.

Set to an intoxicating soundtrack, this piece is a beautiful, terrifying and altogether
mesmerising look at the self-destructive affects of limitless excess and the inevitable tragedy
of desensitization and disenchantment that can become of those who have it all, when ‘all’ is
suddenly no longer enough.

Star rating: ★★★★