The $ellout Festival: Sexadelic Cemetery

The Brick. Written and directed by Jeff Lewonczyk. With ensemble cast.

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FEAR FACTOR Hope Cartelli, left, startles two hippie chicks.

FEAR FACTOR Hope Cartelli, left, startles two hippie chicks. Photograph: Brian Diaz

Time Out Ratings

<strong>Rating: </strong>0/5

Time: 1969. Place: a graveyard. Characters: two hippie girls at a drug-fueled, murderous orgy; a porno production crew (one member of which gets strangled with a tape reel); and supernatural nasties who vaguely resemble Dracula and the Bride of Frankenstein. Sexadelic Cemetery is a hallucinatory dance-theater comedy set to ’60s tunes, full of cheesy Night of the Living Dead imagery and freewheeling sexual energy (sorry kids, no nudity).

On the set of a low-budget, vampire-themed sexploitation film, someone has spiked the lemonade with psychedelic goodies! Neck biting and stabbings ensue under a haze of red lighting until the cast finally drops dead. Though hardly any lines are spoken by the seven-member ensemble, a lengthy voiceover delivered by “the Nightmarer” (a self-described “Astrobeing”) informs us that we helpless mortals have entered the fourth dimension.

Writer-director (and TONY contributor) Jeff Lewonczyk’s script is purposely dopey, and the bits of philosophy offered by the narrator sound cribbed from Twilight Zone reruns (“Where does the vision end? Where does reality begin?”). Still, Lewonczyk’s staging functions successfully as a gothic ballet, enhancing the atmosphere of confusion and the grotesque. To end this hour-long monster mash on a light note, the actors bow as if they were still zombies and then shamble offstage. Talk about staying in character. — Matt Windman

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