There seemed to be not a full group of actors on hand, but those present did a commendable job of filling the time and space with scaring, entertaining, and talking us up. The cast definitely dialed up the theatricality and stage presence.
We enjoyed prolonged interactions with many of them, like the mall janitor who filled us in on the current sitch around town (mayor bad, GreeNo bad, camp bad, yeah, pretty much everything bad) and invited us to eat the rancid leftovers in the foul food court. A kitchen worker fussed over us with a feather duster, lent us a broom, and made us sweep up after our muddy shoes, then told us “Don’t come back now!” in a honeyed southern accent. In the carnival, a clown followed us from room to room, commenting on the surroundings and admitting to a bout of loneliness in a sing-songy voice. The witch welcomed us with hand caresses and gentle whispers, asked about our moisturizing routine, showed off a shelf of potions, and forcefully held court over a cauldron in what was the coolest scene in the whole attraction.
We also had shorter interactions that packed a punch. In welcoming us to his dark ride, Mister Sinister recited some rhymes in a delightfully plummy voice right out of the old-timey mustache-twirling villain’s handbook. A heavy-breathing rec counselor giggled crazily and um, breathed at us. A foreboding devil character just peered at us silently – and that was enough to loosen the ol’ sphincter. The fallen-on-hard-times former mayor warned us he knew where we parked (he had seen us in the lot before opening time) and devolved into subhuman grunting. The farmhand cried out “I can’t wait to carve up your pretty little faces!” and “Don’t threaten me with a good time!” – excellent dialogue construction with distinctive syntax and colloquial, idiomatic word choices.
All in all, this game and appealing troupe displayed personality aplenty to go along with superior performing chops.
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