Dacha’s Pomegranate Tree Opens Greek Myths to Immersive, Inclusive Narratives

I discovered The Pomegranate Tree by a fleeting chance. While discussing the potential of immersive theater in large scale productions, one of my cohorts told me I must see a Dacha show if I hadn’t already. I followed Dacha on Instagram and admittedly forgot about the suggestion shortly after—until a post of theirs crossed my feed. It was a collage which laid out the conceptual inspiration for their first show of the season. With one glimpse of the dream they’d conspired, I was hooked.

The image showed regal and elegantly modern costumes with Grecian influence, and a lighting and set design that promised whimsy. The title of the show itself hinted at a retelling of one of my favorite myths. I reached out to them immediately, and they invited me to their launch party, where I met the founders of the company, the creators of the show, and the performers who make Dacha Theatre what it is.

After meeting everyone and hearing them speak so passionately about the project at hand, I couldn’t wait to see the show. It seemed to be precisely what I’d moved to Seattle to find—theater with bold intentions and artistry at its heart.

There was, however, a sense of dread laced with my excitement. Too often, I have seen productions with astronomical budgets and a worldwide network of performers and designers squander a great idea with poor execution. What would happen with this company that didn’t have those advantages?

James Schilling as Hades and Riley Gene as Persephone / Brett Love

To my great satisfaction, the show was both brilliantly crafted and performed.

Upon entry, guests were invited to step into the world of the performance, each receiving an obol to pay the ferryman for entry into the underworld. It was a wonderful little detail that immediately encouraged guests to participate in the show.

After a quick speech, we ‘mortals’ were met by Charon (Logan West), who asked to see our coins, but did not take them. I wondered briefly, as we were serenaded down the River Styx and guided through a hallway that led to the performance space, if we would have the opportunity to utilize the coins later, perhaps as currency to activate pathways in the show, or to sacrifice our ‘ticket back’ to help another find their way.

What happened instead was a ritual. We were met by Hecate (Karis Ho) and inducted into the underworld. We turned our coins in, and with a voice fit for the gods, Hecate sang a spell that allowed our mortal selves to exist within the underworld. It was a clever way to introduce Hecate’s character and bore the roots of a love story between Hecate and Charon that played out throughout the night.

The ritual, while performed well, held a bit of awkwardness to it. The audience didn’t yet know how to interact with the performers, and the performers didn’t yet know how best to interact with the night’s audience. A challenge for any immersive show, to be sure. Each audience brings in a unique array of personalities, and it takes time to find the ones ready to be involved and push them out of whatever reservations they may have entered with. People are not used to actively participating in a performance space when they come to see a show and must be eased into the idea of it.

Luckily, the show found its rhythm quickly. Upon the ritual’s completion, we were set free into the performance space, and I didn’t have to wander far before another character drew me in. Cassandra (Orianna O’Neill) requested assistance with a letter she was writing to Apollo. I reluctantly sat down to oblige, and we were soon joined by Achilles (Amber Tanaka). Achilles desperately sought Patroclus and begged Cassandra for a prophecy to tell when they would meet again. To perform the prophecy, Cassandra needed five stars which had been hidden throughout the performance space. Thus, my second quest of the night began.

My colleague and I scoured the place for these stars, meeting characters and interacting with other audience members along the way, each of them curious about the task we’d been set upon. Once completed, we returned to Cassandra and beheld the prophecy, which set the main narrative into motion.

It was a predictable sort of prophecy, warning that something would be taken. The obvious object was the singular pomegranate hanging from the sacred tree, which would bind Persephone to the underworld. We set out to warn people, instructed to find Dionysus for a reason I am still uncertain of. Our hunt proved fruitful. We met a surplus of the characters and witnessed the beginnings of each of their character arcs. Orpheus (Walden Barnett Marcus) in search of Eurydice, Aphrodite (Angel Gao) on a quest for love, Artemis (Kendra Tamär Budd) struggling to mend things with her brother, and at last, Dionysus (Steph Couturier) seeking a roaring party. Despite knowing the pomegranate would soon disappear and checking on it frequently, the age-old art of misdirection made me miss the moment it vanished. I had been caught up in the dramatic reunion of Cassandra and Apollo (Kenzie Wells).

Some moments later, the characters noticed the thievery too, and the prophecy was realized. Tension soared to its highest point as all frantically searched for the culprit. But we weren’t given enough time to speculate nor truly worry about the absence of the pomegranate. Almost immediately, Demeter (Ksenia Boisvert) revealed herself as the thief, and the tension of the moment crashed. But the moment wasn’t a complete loss; it still set the course for Persephone’s character arc.

Ksenia Bosviert as Demeter / Brett Love

From there, we were pulled in a myriad of directions, chasing the stories of each character. They were familiar tales, but we were compelled look at them with a closer, more intimate eye. We faced Persephone’s struggles of belonging and their seeking of their own identity in the wreckage of the image of themselves imposed upon them by their mother. We mourned with Orpheus, who chased a doomed love and had to learn how to deal with the terrible grief of its loss. We aided in the strife of multiple divine struggles between family, friends, and lovers, and were met with the utter humanity of it all.

In so doing, the show sometimes relied a bit too heavily on the vulnerability of its audience. In a crowd of strangers, it’s hard to justly answer questions of grief and forgiveness. Though the attempt was admirable. It was in the pursuit of something all great theater must accomplish: Transformation. I firmly believe one should rarely leave a theater the same as they were before they entered. Something must shift. Something must be realized in the hearts and minds of the viewers, even if only on a surface level. Dacha accomplished this beautifully.

The production overall was well-rounded. It had a vastly talented cast. Teia O'Malley set the scene with elaborate design, and the space was utilized to its fullest. Lighting designed by Jordan Somers gave a gentle wash of fitting colors in each location, enhancing the scenic elements. Costumes designed by Briana Schwartz suited each character well, making them identifiable at first glance with subtle nods to their deityship while also giving them the regality promised in the conceptual design. The music was sung beautifully, and the drinking song crafted to engage the audience did wonders for the atmosphere of the performance. My only wish was that some of the songs and some of the plotlines had been tightened and given a greater purpose.

Despite the limitations put upon Dacha by space, time, and budget, they flourished. They proved that from limitation often comes the greatest innovation. I look forward to seeing what they do next.