When the cast is having fun and is wholly committed the whole atmosphere of a haunt is electric, and Scarizona is blessed with an abundance of fantastic, dedicated ghouls and creeps. Despite the nearly hundred-degree temperature in the desert wasteland they’d created, every single person I encountered was fully and enthusiastically in character, many of them performing a variety of physical stunts without any sign of fatigue or discomfort. I’m genuinely not sure how they pulled it off without heat stroke. On any given night, they tend to have anywhere between 25 and 45 actors, most of them experienced veterans coming from one of the local theatre groups. On the night Jackalope visited there were only 27, at the low end of the scale, but you’d have never felt like they were short-staffed.
Each character felt unique in their behaviors and dialogue. They all engaged with me in different ways, from quiet menace bursting into sudden aggression to manic, unhinged friendliness. I was bullied, berated, threatened, begged for help, and growled at in a plethora of different ways. I need to give a special shout-out to a friendly, taller clown that somehow seemed to be able to teleport, appearing behind me at various points throughout the haunt. It’s hard to genuinely surprise me anymore, but he managed it multiple times. Every time he’d materialize he’d greet me cheerfully as an old friend (that had long since lost his grip on reality). He made the night.
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