A specific moment in Cold War Choir Practice functions as a testament to its artistic finesse, and doubles as a metaphor for one of this new play’s primary themes. 

Near the end of Ro Roddick’s Cold War satire, the clock starts running on a ticking time-bomb set inside an upstage alcove. The lights then shift towards a heart-to-heart between brothers at the lip of the stage, but the flashing ticker continues to flutter behind them, denoting the dwindling timer to BOOM.

Despite the promise of impending fireworks, our attention remains locked on the fraternal exchange, a precise tightrope of theatrical craft.

Simultaneously, the scene is a microcosm of Cold War Choir Practice’s overarching interest in the idea of domestic profundity underneath the ever-present specter of sociopolitical catastrophe. How do we stay focused on maintaining interpersonal relations, with the threat of (preventable? If we take action?) global violence liable to descend on our small little lives at any second…

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Another example of seamlessly careening from absurdist detonation to affecting poignancy:

Operation Mincemeat’s “Dear Bill.”