REVIEW HIGHLIGHTS
Steve Yockey's Reykjavík is an intriguing and often unsettling play set in Iceland's capital that presents a haunting collage of somewhat connected stories that are often shocking and also comical at times. The play is steeped in supernatural tension and Icelandic folklore, filled with eerie encounters, simmering dread, and moments that feel lifted from a dream–or a nightmare. Yockey's hallmark blend of dark humor, fantastical elements, and emotional unease are on full display and, while it is disturbing at times and sometimes sexually graphic, with moments of violence, it is always fascinating. With an excellent cast and crisp direction, Stray Cat Theatre's production pulls the audience into the icy shadows of a city where myth and reality seem to merge and you never know what horror is waiting around the corner.
Told through a series of vignettes, Reykjavík does not follow a single linear narrative. Instead, it introduces a collection of characters whose paths cross in unexpected ways, with each scene offering a snapshot of strange encounters, broken relationships, and eerie interactions that seem influenced by supernatural forces. From tense conversations on dark, snow-covered streets and in dim basements or hotel rooms to mysterious meetings under the Northern Lights, the play moves fluidly across time and space, painting an impressionistic portrait of a city filled with magic and also an always-present foreboding sense of menace and doom.
Thematically, as in most of his plays, Yockey dives deep into human vulnerability, longing, secrecy, and the way supernatural fear often reflects internal turmoil. His writing is sharp, lyrical, and filled with rich imagery, with dialogue and monologues that are poetic and characters that are fleshed out, even though most only appear for a short time.
...a gripping patchwork of psychological and supernatural intrigue and characters you most likely won't soon forget.
The six-member ensemble cast deliver crisp and committed portrayals, each actor shifting seamlessly among multiple characters, from lonely travelers to dangerous strangers or troubled lovers. They handle the shifts with impressive ease, moving from quiet intimacy to explosive confrontation without missing a beat. Ty Klassen and Aaron Cammack portray memorable characters who linger in the mind long after the scenes fade. Cammack's monologue about his teen years is especially riveting and he also expertly plays one half of two different couples who are both visiting Iceland while uncovering truths about each other. Klassen's layered depictions of his characters all come with a sense of sadness. These include a sex worker, as well as a character that bookends the play, and, like Cammack, he is superb throughout.
In smaller roles, Andrew Gray offers a great balance to both Klassen and Cammack in scenes where he is paired with them, while Devon Mahon is wonderful in a few smaller roles, including one where he and Cammack depict a couple on the brink. Raijene Aýme and Elizabeth Broeder round out the cast. Both offer great support throughout, including a haunting turn by Broeder in the last segment.
Ron May's direction amplifies the dark and haunting undercurrents of the piece, leaning fully into its disturbing tone while allowing space for the quieter emotional moments to resonate. His cast brings clarity and depth to every moment and character they play, with depictions that feel grounded yet heightened, exactly in line with Yockey's unconventional world. There are many unsettling moments in Yockey's script, yet the actors embrace each one, leaning into its tension, humor, and moments of stark emotional truth with admirable fearlessness under May's crisp direction.
The simple set design by Dori Brown uses just a large back wall with three doors and a few pieces of furniture, plus a series of perfectly done projections by Jacob Nichols which prove highly effective in capturing both the icy landscape and the various locations. Joanna Emmott's lighting does a fantastic job depicting the chilly, winter outdoor scenes as well as the, at times, frightening interiors. The staging and the creative aspects work together to create a crisp winter world where shadows feel alive and danger seems to lurk in the silence.
While the play's stark sexual moments and persistent sense of foreboding may not appeal to everyone, Stray Cat's production of Reykjavík offers an experience that is chilling, mesmerizing, and deeply engaging. For fans of Yockey or for those who appreciate theatre that challenges, disturbs, and keeps you leaning forward in your seat, it is an intriguing work brought to life with admirable boldness.