Night of the Potato

It was my play. I wrote it. I'd watched it, every performance so far.

Super Spud.

Seems innocent enough, so why the 13+ rating? Graphic violence, it said. Around scene five even I felt when the audience suddenly realized that things were not going to turn out well. That drop in the stomach. The silence. Dread. A ruined potato town, followed by an eye gouging scene, followed by an endgame reverence that probably hit most people a bit two close to home, and topped off with the bad guy eating yam fries when we'd just watched potatoes we'd thought could pull through die one by one.

The reactions were priceless.

I'd wanted to ask people what they expected going in, just so I could watch their expectations crumble like an overcooked fry. Call me sadistic, but those reactions brought a grin to my face like nothing else. One friend turned to me when the lights came up and told me it was a great play. Another friend cornered me outside the theatre doors, stared with his mouth open as I stood grinning and finally asked, "What the hell was that?" Satisfaction.

The plot of Super Spud was similar to that of any other super hero film. Super hero is a regular guy, not the smartest, not even the most motivated. Super villain has some sort of backstory, does something that sets the action in motion. Super hero is motivated by awesome side kick. Minions of supervillain are funny. There's lots of fights, zombies, etc. The story ends with the super villain (or in this case an aspiring entreprenuer with a dream to take over the world with a multinational corporation) winning.

Still to this day, when I get into a conversation about Super Spud and people express their distress about how it ended, how it turned so horrific, how they can't believe it it brings a smile to my face. My dad says it was one of his favourite plays in the festival. What can I say? I accomplished what I set out to do: give people a play that had them leaving the theatre going "What the hell was THAT????"