
In February 2020, the Diamond Princess, a luxury cruise ship toting around nearly 3,700 passengers and crew, became the site of the largest COVID-19 outbreak outside of China. The ship remained docked in Japan with passengers quarantined in their rooms while the world scrambled to learn more about the virus. A lack of training and understanding led to almost 20% of the passengers being infected by the time they disembarked. Many spent a total of 39 days on the ship and around three weeks of that time was spent in quarantine.
Imagine being one of those individuals stranded on the ocean; the cabin fever you’d experience being trapped in your rented room, the fear of this unknown virus infecting and killing yourself or your family, the frustration of not knowing when you might be free again, the ample time for boredom, self-reflection and self-discovery as you ponder mortality.
A cruise ship riddled with COVID is a fertile setting for an interesting play; unfortunately, convergence-continuum’s world premiere of “Death Cruise 2020” is too similar to the fictional boat on which it takes place: it goes nowhere.
“Death Cruise 2020” takes place on the fictional Halcyon Daze cruise ship at the beginning of the 2020 pandemic. Passengers aboard the ship are either quarantined in their rooms or roaming the ship at their own risk. A member of the crew, Achebe, leads a grief group for passengers including Ghost, a Vietnam veteran; Juanita, a woman mourning a past relationship and questioning her religion; Ricky, an energetic, flirtatious man; Lorena, a woman trying to overcome past trauma; and Nick, the cruise director and a stand-up comic.
“Death Cruise 2020” was written by local playwright Christopher Johnston and is currently under the direction of Alison Garrigan. convergence-continuum is known for producing off-the-wall, eyebrow-raising theater, and while this show fits the bill, the source material is woefully unpolished. Like the Titanic, “Death Cruise 2020” was ill prepared to take on passengers.
The first issue that punches a hole in the hull of “Death Cruise 2020” is an utter lack of believability and tension. The COVID-19 virus is rampaging through your cruise ship, and the situation is so dire that you are quite literally trapped on the ocean. Want to go to a comedy show, anyone? Maybe a concert? How about a grief group where we sit shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow passengers and barely ever talk about the virus currently sending the world to its knees? It’s difficult to create tension and stakes when the pandemic that drives your characters together is given the reverence of a common cold.
The situation is unbelievable and unrealistic, which begs that the characters be well-developed and entertaining. Although each character is given a moment of the show to share their grief with the rest of the support group and the audience, the result is a regurgitation of trauma that checks a box but is largely ineffective at eliciting sympathy. The audience is also privy to glimpses into different characters’ psyche via vague dream sequences haunted by creepy masks and puppets. To Johnston’s credit, some of these sequences almost dip into deeper waters, such as when a lonely character begs fellow trapped passengers to not leave them even after lockdowns have subsided. Unfortunately, we’re not given the chance to delve into the deeper effects this situation has on the characters and are left wading in the shallows.
As with the plot and characters, the dialogue is also unpolished. The script attempts humor with sarcasm, wit, innuendos, puns and even a stand-up routine, but the comedy never lands despite the best efforts of the cast. Too often, the writing tries too hard to be clever, and with little success. Childhood trauma described as “my own personal abusement park,” “be there or be a nightmare” and “pandemically inactive penis” are only a few examples.
The cast of “Death Cruise 2020” feel eager to put on a good show and they can be commended for their energetic efforts. Most enjoyable are Tamicka Scruggs and Katrice Monee Headd, who breathe authenticity and life into their roles as Juanita and Achebe, respectively. Matthew Zitelli as cruise director Nick tries his damndest to earn laughs during his stand-up routine in Act II. John Lynch also tries his hardest with Ghost’s dialogue, but he often fumbles many of the veteran’s more witty, alliterative lines. Ben Blankenship plays his character Ricky with plenty of gusto, but many of his flirtatious lines come off as sleazy rather than childish and funny, making the character more unlikeable than was perhaps intended. Monica Zach as Lorena is quiet and understated, sometimes disparagingly so during what should be hyper-emotional moments.
Scenic designer Scott Zolkowski crafted a ship’s deck and a meeting room in which the characters interact. While the meeting space with its 90’s-inspired, swirled design on the floors is large enough for the grief support group to spread out a bit, the chairs are all placed in one long line. This directorial decision makes for frustrating sightlines for audience members sitting on the shorter end of convergence-continuum’s theater. In these seats, it was sometimes difficult to understand characters when they spoke from the ship’s deck. Especially difficult to understand was the Coast Guard helicopter that delivered scene-setting information at the beginning of the play (sound designer Leo Fez).
Puppets are employed throughout the show to depict crew members and fellow passengers as well as to populate the dream sequences with some especially freaky imagery, aided by trippy lighting from Robert Wachala. While the puppets are well-crafted by Lady Bats Puppets, when they are not being puppeteered, they are inexplicably hung on the walls to unnervingly watch the audience.
It often takes years of unseen writing, workshopping, readings and rewritings to prepare a script for audiences–and sometimes, even then, some scripts never see a fully staged production. “Death Cruise 2020” is one such script that should have remained at port.
“Death Cruise 2020” runs through June 28 at convergence-continuum, 2438 Scranton Road, Cleveland. Visit convergence-continuum.org or call 216-687-0074 for tickets, $18-$23.
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This article appears in Cleveland SCENE 06/05/25 Best of Cleveland.
