When an eldritch monster suddenly emerges from a dark lake, it isn’t the giant, hypnotic squid that you should be most afraid of, but the humans who have to come to terms with its existence.
Now on stage at convergence-continuum, the haunting, eerie and seasonally appropriate “Sleeping Giant” brings us lakeside as the emergence of a mysterious aquatic horror rattles humanity.
Written by Steve Yockey, “Sleeping Giant” was originally produced during the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2019. It features four actors, two men and two women, who portray a series of interconnected characters that we meet via short vignettes. It all begins when Ryan proposes to his girlfriend, Alex, with an overzealous fireworks show outside of his family’s lakeside cabin. In addition to causing a lovers’ quarrel, the explosives awaken a giant, squid-like monster in the nearby lake.
Through seven vignettes and 90 intermission-less minutes, playwright Yockey examines how different humans might cope with their new reality–and the result isn’t pretty. In fact, it’s quite foreboding, disturbing and depressing, all emotions that are astutely captured in director Cory Molner’s production of the piece.
Audiences are seated on two sides of the interior of an intimate cabin constructed by scenic designer Connor Krohn. The furniture sitting atop the hardwood floors is somewhat shabby-chic and perfectly comfortable adornment for a campy lakeside cabin, although it is at stark odds with the bougie, practically lacquered, stock image interiors projected on one side of the playing space. While the coffee table, couch, lamps and bookshelf remain stationary throughout the show, video projections by Robert Wachala help shift the locale from place to place between the vignettes, demarking the start of each with a creative reveal of the scene’s name.
The four players in the cast are credited as archetypes: the Naif (Yuval Tal), the Raconteur (Sullivan Ratcliff), the Convert (Samantha Cocco) and the Messenger (Mike Frye). Aided by some personality-revealing costumes from designer Scott Zolkowski, the cast embodies a slew of characters who react to the lake monster with different degrees of sanity, fear and foolishness.
For some, the monster is nothing more than an inconvenience to brunch plans; to others, it is a source of crushing, consuming anxiety (chillingly conveyed by Tal and Frye). Others might not even know of the creature’s existence, while some have already taken to greedily gulping down the innards of local fish for their age-reversing properties (portrayed by a persuasive, free-spirited Cocco). There are those who are sure that the emergence of the squid harkens back to scripture (as is expressed by an excitable Ratcliff), and those who find death more comforting than whatever awaits humanity in the coming days (conveyed by an eerily calm Tal). And, of course, there are the zealots who bow down and dance at the creature’s tentacles (embodied with mania by Tal and Frye), and who ultimately become the greatest threat to the non-believers (played by a rational Ratcliff and Cocco).
The show is billed as a dark comedy, and there are moments of irreverent humor, such as when one of Tal’s recurring characters speaks of the end times with the detached, unconcerned air of someone who has accepted utter defeat. Or when two of Frye and Ratcliff’s romantically involved characters discuss how one unintentionally cheated on the other with a tentacle-worshiping cult member. The script can dip its toe into some campy horror waters, but that being said, discomfort still reigns supreme.
It may not be an eldritch squid that leads to our demise–these days it’s shaped more like unregulated super technology, climate disasters and greedy fascists–but we all know what it’s like to ponder how we would behave in the wake of society’s collapse. It’s part of being human, and that “what if?” factor is part of what makes scary stories so intriguing. “Sleeping Giant” taps into that fear, but instead of showing us one hero’s journey, it explores the fates of those who might not have the tools or plot armor needed to tackle a monumental shift in reality (a.k.a. the majority of us).
In addition to the uneasy explorations of humanity within the script, the creepy air is aided in large part by the creative contributions of designers Wachala and Léo Fez. In addition to video that pulses and warps as the characters are overcome with despair, anxiety and psychosis, Wachala is also responsible for the dim lighting that fluctuates during foreboding moments. Fez’s sound design operates similarly, providing woodsy, cricket-chirping ambiance before swelling in tense moments with anxiety-inducing gusto.
We all fear what we can’t control, and in the case of “Sleeping Giant,” what can’t be controlled isn’t just a giant squid, but the widespread reactions of others. No stranger to the bizarre, it should come as no surprise that convergence-continuum brings the unsettling story of “Sleeping Giant” to life with an unnerving edge perfect for the Halloween season.
“Sleeping Giant” runs through Oct. 24, 2026, at convergence-continuum, 2438 Scranton Road, Cleveland. Visit convergence-continuum.org or call 216-687-0074 for tickets, $23-30.
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