“The Extractionist’’, a modern-day mystery play written by local Michaela Jeffery, was commissioned and performed at Vertigo Theatre in downtown Calgary. It attempts to raise difficult questions regarding the nature of personal choice and the extent to which individuals can be held responsible for their actions when under the influence of a charismatic leader or a tight-knit group. The struggle between individual freedom and the power of groups to control their members is a particularly relevant topic for Canadian audiences of 2023, grappling with where the line between individual freedoms and collective well-being presides. More than anything, though, the play explores the idea of disconnect — and the lengths people will go to in order to find connection, whether it be through a cult or through justice. “Extractionist” delves into how individuals can be disconnected from society, themselves, and their loved ones, and how this disconnection leads to desperation and the search for belonging. Regrettably, there is also another kind of disconnect throughout the play — the discrepancy between what Jeffery envisions and what she offers in her writing, the performance’s pacing, the setting itself, and the true intentions of the play’s hero protagonists all ultimately lead to a difficulty of suspension of disbelief and hold back the potential power of such a compelling narrative.

The play’s plot primarily attempts to explore the dangerous, unknown world of cults through the characters of the self-help guru leader, Richard Holland, of Luminia, and the sordid murderer Matt Langdon; however, these characters are one-dimensional caricatures rather than fully fleshed-out characters. Jeffery tries to invoke popular figures of hegemonic masculinity, such as Jordan Peterson or Andrew Tate, but fails to demonstrate an understanding of their ideology beyond the surface level. For example, during the brief interrogation where any sort of characterization takes place, Holland speaks about Luminia’s core tenets, training, seminars, and ongoing outpatient treatments, but these remain largely unexplored. Moreover, Holland’s reaction to Matt being accused of murder is hard to swallow, as he mentions having “mentored Matt closely” for “almost three years” and then simply, nonchalantly drops him. Since the audience is given so little in terms of rhetoric or ideology, Holland’s actions and beliefs end up feeling shallow and one-dimensional, lacking any complexity or motivation beyond a desire for power and control. It goes without saying there are diverse and fascinating beliefs for cults around the world, and techniques used such as lovebombing, isolation, and sleep deprivation could have been explored, allowing for deeper insight into the psyche and motivations of the antagonists.

Similarly, Matt is portrayed as a caricature of a misogynistic, hyperconservative individual. During his interrogation, Matt rants to Asha about how the “agenda-pushing leftist media tell you how to think,” and goes on a tirade regarding offense and, more interestingly, the newfound freedom a person would have if they simply chose to let go of their “self-imposed trauma”. While this could potentially be the start of a compelling argument on agency, specifically through a politicized lens, that is disappointingly as far as Matt or any other character goes with the idea. Instead, he vapidly lies about the woman he murdered, selling herself for “Sephora money”, with Holland briefly commenting on “Jezebel and Delilah. Betrayal. About sin and damnation”, all pointing to, once again, a subtext of shallow misogyny which could perhaps, perhaps be blamed on our Judeo-Christian, heteronormative, patriarchal society. It’s difficult to say.

While I was fortunate enough to witness the stage set and costume design, both of which were immersive and visually stunning, it is the playwright’s responsibility to create a cohesive and engaging world that draws the audience in, and the actual writing of the play, particularly in regards to the ambiguity of the play’s setting, is unsatisfying. The play’s cyberpunk aesthetic, with its neon lights and futuristic costuming, creates a visually engaging world. Sadly, it becomes apparent that Jeffery’s writing fails to utilize this world, feeling disconnected. The play’s modern-day feel and dialogue, such as the whiplashing line about how “[k]nowing about the existence of the Cloud isn’t cyber sleuthing”, is frankly jarring and out of place when juxtaposed with the immersive cyberpunk visuals. Jeffery appropriates the flashy visuals of a genre she does not seem to understand or sincerely appreciate. The play’s lack of world-building is especially frustrating — the audience is left with no clear understanding of the world in which the story is taking place: is this a dystopian future? An alternate present? Something else entirely? Being touted as a modern-day murder mystery isn’t satisfactory — this ambiguity detracts from the play’s overall potential impact. The lack of attention paid to the play’s setting is indicative of larger problems with the writing — the characters’ actions and motivations often feel inconsistent, lacking any clear explanation or grounding in the world they inhabit. This inconsistency further decouples the play’s overall impact, leaving the audience feeling unsatisfied and confused.

Asha is an interesting and multifaceted character, but her motivations, as presented, are not always clear or consistent. While the protagonist appears self-sacrificing and motivated by a desire to help those affected by cults, her actions throughout the play instead demonstrate a primary motivation of self-interest. This is exemplified by the way she treats her partner, Medina, whom she keeps at arm’s length and repeatedly ignores — choosing to “handcuff him to the radiator” in her apartment rather than allow him to be involved in her plans, despite his repeated pleas and his eagerness to help her. Asha’s selfishness is further evidenced when Medina informs her that the missing woman’s remains have been found, and her response is to immediately focus on Holland fleeing, and subsequently, she murders him herself instead of going through the proper channels of the criminal justice system — it is difficult to argue she is not only interested in taking on the case of the missing woman as a challenge and an opportunity for her to prove herself, rather than for genuine concern for the victim or her family. Asha’s capabilities and lack of remorse are disturbingly displayed when, confronted with Holland, she “gets her arm around his neck and, in a smooth, brutal movement, breaks it”, only for the two women to nod at each other afterwards. Given how she treats her partner, her crime of breaking and entering, and leading a situation to escalate toward violence, it is evident that Asha’s motivations are painted in grey and that, while she can be viewed as heroic in certain contexts and circumstances, she is ultimately driven by her own needs and desires, motivating her to do whatever it takes to get them.

Ending the play on this particular note, with “To Be Continued” instead of a satisfying, typical performance ending, was subversive and risky, but regrettably ended up feeling out-of-place in a theatre play. Such a cliffhanger is a device more commonly used in television shows or serialized novels, and it did not work well in the context of the play, leaving the audience with a sense of confusion or lack of satisfaction to the story just witnessed. One must question Jeffery’s motive for the ending — feeling like the work of an inferior playwright who either did not have a concrete ending in mind, or perhaps worse, had the hubris to think she was going to have a sequel play — largely unheard of. It is important to note that the phrase “To Be Continued” is not part of the written script but was an addition exclusive to the Vertigo Theatre performance, suggesting that it might have been the contribution of another creative mind involved in the production rather than the playwright’s original intention. However, the structure of the acts also warrants criticism. “Extractionist” has an imbalance — with the second act only commencing at a significantly late point in the script, precisely on the 59th page of a total of 82. The initial act does a commendable job setting up the intrigue, yet the disproportionate brevity of the following act unavoidably precipitates a sense of abruptness and hastiness. The audience, just as they find themselves getting drawn into the narrative and its characters, face an untimely disruption with the intermission, potentially leaving them under the false impression that they are at the narrative’s midpoint. Upon the play’s continuation, the narrative does not afford sufficient duration to delve fully into the ramifications of the plot’s developments or navigate them to a gratifying denouement. The consequence is a series of unresolved threads and an absence of closure concerning the characters and their respective journeys.

“Extractionist” is a dense, multifaceted play that brings forth provocative contemplations concerning individual accountability, autonomy, and the concept of self. Perhaps the most striking aspect is the playwright’s audacity in embracing risk and opting for decisions that may not align with conventional preferences. While there are instances where Jeffery’s craftsmanship appears compromised, particularly in her superficial engagement with certain elements and a noticeable neglect in cultivating her narrative universe, the play does not lack instances of sheer ingenuity. Despite its imperfections, Jeffery’s endeavor is a laudable exploration into the realm of cult dynamics, the repercussions of various forms of disconnect, and the ethical obligations resting on the shoulders of those wielding influence. Her ambition in addressing such intricate and challenging motifs deserves acknowledgment. The narrative, with its concentrated yet expansive scope, defies predictability and tedium, serving as a testament to Jeffery’s immense potential as a playwright.