Cold War Choir Practice – 05 March 2026

Layered gravitas and eerie harmonies weave together to form Cold War Choir Practice, a story of questioning what it means to be a friend, an ally, and an enemy. This tale of mixed up priorities exists in several planes—the literal story taking place at a roller rink, the exaggerated fantasy taking place in people’s imaginations that paints them capable of stopping a nuclear threat more or less singlehandedly, and the completely conceptual existence of a choir mocking people through song as the world is so much bigger than most people realize. The seamless flow of this story confuses these worlds in a way that delightfully pushes and pulls people to ask themselves why some of these moments come across as funny. At the end of the day, laughter is a healing force when everything might go up in flames at any minute—but does that make a world on the brink of annihilation funny?

The experience of watching the show felt like a delicate dance. One minute we were in a very tangible reality, the next a philosophical one. Some ideas lurked in the in between. For example, Meek (Alana Raquel Bowers) is a child with a Soviet Pen Pal. How much damage could a child talking to another child really do? Cold War Choir Practice shows the absurdity of thinking that children could be used to transmit government secrets, while also positing that secret societies preying on middle age women really wouldn’t be that much better—a woman would have to be deprived of her senses to cooperate with something that jeopardizes the safety of her loved ones. The show also explores themes about peace and in whose hands it lies. Does one child singing really have the power to stop a nuclear war? Does a whole government even have the power to stop a nuclear war? Does this power really rest in the hands of world leaders alone? At the end of the day, what does it really mean to see every human being as fully human and deserving of the right to live?

Design elements play a huge part in what makes Cold War Choir Practice hit home. Lighting (Masha Tsimring) guides the audience through each level of the story with ease and precision, and choices on who to highlight when are used for both comedic and practical purposes. This is heavily aided by costumes (Brenda Abbandandolo), which firmly plant the choir members in a world of their own, utterly distinct from those portrayed as the closest to real. Scenic designer Afsoon Pajoufar placed a mirror on the set in a clever position that made it look like characters who were entering and exiting the space were doing so divided into two people. There was a lot of clever shadow play adding to the eeriness of Ro Reddick’s original songs. Movement direction (Baye & Asa) made it clear when the Choir was portraying children, adults, metaphors, or ideas, and the total commitment of all of these actresses (Grace McLean, Suzzy Roche, Nina Ross) helped the adventure move forward in ways that were daringly fun.

The cheeky attitude and comedic timing of Cold War Choir Practice made a scathing criticism of a world on the brink of nuclear war highly entertaining without removing the serious questions about what we laugh at and why. The performances are a delight, as is the music, production design, and witty writing. Knud Adams’s clear direction keeps the audience focused exactly where they need to be. It is an utterly unique theatre experience that is both meaningful and fun, with just enough disconnect to remain in your mind as you exit the theatre.

I attended this performance on a press pass from Print Shop PR.