One minute we see an innocuous selfie, and then bold text against a colorful background loudly declaring the politics of its taker. The story will bounce from a live conversation to a pre-recorded video, or from a direct address to a reenactment of a TikTok. From Circle Jerkįor the show’s new in-person production, the audience must divide their attention between the stage and a host of screens surrounding it. (Charles Ludlam’s The Mystery of Irma Vep is a core influence.) But that “muchness” is also the essence of what it’s trying to capture about contemporary society. In part this stems from its roots in the Theatre of the Ridiculous. Harris proudly quote it as a compliment.) Much of the play - the comical plot which it loses track of, the onslaught of witticism and references, the abundance of “woke” hypocrisies it calls out - is, in fact, A Lot. (Fake Friends and executive producer Jeremy O. Reviewing the initial virtual run, the New York Times described Circle Jerk as “a lot,” which may sound dismissive but isn’t inaccurate. It’s a potentially groundbreaking aesthetic, incorporating the visual language of the internet into both stagecraft and cinema. Their virtual productions have been experimental hybrids of film and theater, often rejecting realism in favor of camp. They operate within a transmedia space, expertly incorporating the mediums they explore and poke fun at, from TikTok and Facetune to GIFs to ASMR videos, for the sake of bold political statements. This is mirrored in the aesthetics of all their works - not just Circle Jerk, but also shows like This American Wife, an in-depth riff on the Real Housewives phenomenon. The Fake Friends theater group ties the insanity of their productions to the world itself having lost the plot. Describing the plot succinctly is a Herculean endeavor put short, these personalities are thrown into each other’s paths, resulting in a farcical journey of self-discovery and self-immolation amongst characters without an ounce of self-awareness. The show’s three actors (Breslin, Foley, and Rodríguez) embody multiple characters, including Michael and Patrick (stereotypes of brash gay men), Jurgen (a white supremacist meme creator), Lord Baby Bussy (a racist gay influencer), Honey/Hun (a gay incel with a penchant for Broadway), Alexia (a virtual assistant who’s an obvious reference to the Amazon tech), Ava Maria (a meme-creating artificial intelligence), and a literal troll who serves as a Greek chorus. The story takes place on Gayman Island, a private retreat for rich gays and a hunting ground for two “White Gay Internet Trolls” who want to “uncancel” themselves by canceling everyone else, figuratively and literally. It’s a piece of “extremely online” fiction about the way queer people navigate the world. Originally presented virtually amid the COVID-19 lockdown in 2020, as directed by Rory Pelsue, the show still operates in this liminal space in its newly debuted in-person staging. This is the central theme of Circle Jerk, a theatrical experience created by Michael Breslin and Patrick Foley, in collaboration with Ariel Silbert and Cat Rodríguez. You can call it an ouroboros loop, but it feels a lot more like a circle jerk, with people passing the same nonsense back and forth trying to find meaning in it. The more you use apps like Twitter, the more the lexicon of the internet becomes part of your real-life vocabulary, while all the inanity of reality is reported about and read on social media. There’s an absurdity to modern existence that’s difficult to articulate.