Ah, Urban Death. After the world ended in various ways and Covid halted nearly all truly experimental theatre (see smaller and more daring), iconic outfit Zombie Joe’s Underground Theatre resurrects their signature show with inspiration from iconic Buffalo, New York band Cannibal Corpse to deliver one of the company’s most polished productions yet, URBAN DEATH: Cannibal Corpse. Part Grand Guignol, part Butoh, Part Theatre of Cruelty, Urban Death has blazed a scorched trail of fearless performance that explores the shocking, funny, and sometimes poignant moments of human existence in a live, episodic format. Cannibal Corpse has spent the past 32 years exploring the most unspeakable recesses of human existence. It really is a match made in hell by Satan and Cthulu on the altar of a virgin sacrifice. The result is a pitch black night at the theatre that would make even the most jaded massochist blush.

Returning to the intimate black box on Lankershim, URBAN DEATH: Cannibal Corpse plumbs the nebulous depths of depravity to mine cathrsis and ultimately, universal truth. Tickets SHOULD be pre-ordered and guests should arrive at least 30 mins before the performance to allow for optimal seating. We line up as the sun sets for the 8:30pm showing. We lean against the beige stucco walls under the bland lighted storefront sign that reads “Z.J.U.” for what we hope will be a memorable performance. The doors open and soft-spoken proprietor Zombie Joe welcomes us into the lobby to check in and or to buy tickets. The smell of insence is thick in the air and at the far end of the room is the entrance to the theatre. A thick sliding door upon which the name of the theatre is scrawled keeps us from entering the performance area.

Soon enough the lavender wall between the foyer and the black box slides ajar and there is a room full of chairs facing the performance space on the far left corner. Droning music plays as a Cannibal Corpse uber-fan stands, entranced at an invisible performance This piece is inspired by the song Manaiacal. Though, fans and non-fans of the band alike will connect with the performer and their undulating emotions, taking in an unseen performance. The house fills, and is settled, and the lights go out. The first scene is inspired by the song Dead Humann Collection. Another scene, inspired by the song Pit Of Zombies occurs that looks eerily similar to the classic Urban Death piece, Zombie Pile. The scene climaxes, and the lights go out. Another scene of depravity is performed, then the lights go out. This continues for just over an hour and frankly I didn’t want it to end.

URBAN DEATH: Cannibal Corpse is a glorious return to form for the theatre group. It is directed by Jana Wimer who brings a new level of staging and polish to the punk company. The lighting design is a step above in the right direction, adding to the vignettes rather than being a showcase. Kevin Van Cott adds to the show with his original compositions that have reached a new level of production and creativity. The accompanying score does a fine job of regarding Cannibal Corpse without imitating it and stepping on toes. I would also say that this is easily the most powerful cast that Zombie Joe and Jana Wimer have ever assembled for an Urban Death Performance. They give it every last ounce of energy and terror and it is a glorious thing to witness.

No, you don’t have to be a fan of Cannibal Corpse to appreciate and enjoy URBAN DEATH: Cannibal Corpse. It might actually make you a fan of the band in connecting with like-minded people from another medium that have a strikingly similar, nihilistic take on things. Well done to the cast of URBAN DEATH: Cannibal Corpse. Well done to Ms. Wimer and team. The images from this show stained my nightmares and that is the best souvenir of all.

 

URBAN DEATH: Cannibal Corpse runs Fridays at 8:30 and Saturdays 8:30 and 11:00 through July 2

About the Author

Norman Gidney is a nearly lifelong horror fan. Beginning his love for the scare at the age of 5 by watching John Carpenter's Halloween, he set out on a quest to share his passion for all things spooky with the rest of the world.