The Evangelists — Review

Raincheck kicked off with an electrifying guitar and the energy in the room began to buzz with anticipation for People You Know’s latest play, The Evangelists. “Did you get my friend in!?” an audience member shouted across the crowded room. “No, sorry, she’s still in line—I don’t think she’ll make it,” Lupos was packed, with fans spilling out the doors. The excitement was infectious as I recalled the buzz of a 2014 One Direction meet-and-greet. Playwright Cara Scott captures this nostalgic atmosphere beautifully. Though there’s no explicit allusion to any one band, Scott explained that The Evangelists were inspired by groups like Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, the 1975, and One Direction.

The play opens in 2012, an hour before The Evangelists are to take the stage. They’re in their 10th year, celebrating their world tour with Salem, a superfan turned guitarist, but not everyone seems equally thrilled about this addition. Director Calla Mitchell cleverly uses drums to intensify the tension from the start— lead singer Evangeline’s silent agitation is echoed by the steady thud of the drums, while cymbals crash to build tension. These auditory elements subtly convey the characters’ internal struggles throughout the production.

The plot explores the toxic nature of the music industry, for its mishandling of queerness and undermining of female artists. In conversation, Scott noted that “the music industry often covers up queerness,” particularly in mainstream acts. Though I recall this being marketed as an ‘indie-punk’ band it rather reflects the dynamics of 2000s pop-rock bands where heterosexuality was the norm and anything beyond, scandalous and taboo. Parallels to One Direction emerge, whose fans fueled rumours of romantic entanglements among bandmates through fan fiction and gossip magazines. Scott remarked that she “wanted to find the humour in it” while also pointing out the “ethicality” of it all. She achieves this, as The Evangelists examine the tension between public personas and private lives.

This is especially evident in Linus, who at first seems to be yet another queer, comedic-relief character. However, in a charged exchange with Salem, who confronts him with probing questions about rumoured romances with his former bandmate Ronan, Linus reveals an unexpected depth. Initially, a cacophony of laughter springs from the audience, but as the questions persist, the laughter fades into an uneasy silence. One moment, we were laughing; the next, we felt a pang of shame for what we had been laughing at. Jonathan Stock’s portrayal of Linus embodied this duality artfully— his smile faded, his comedic persona crumbled, and the audience was left to confront its own flaws and prejudices.  

A standout moment occurs in a heart-warming exchange between Salem and Evangeline, where Salem recalls seeing her idols up close for the first time. Fame, the play suggests, often distorts stars that up close, are as flawed as anyone. Mitchell expressed that she focused first on the “emotional directing of their voices before physically directing,” this resulted in a very honest and organic dialogue between the characters. Martha Thomson as Evangeline and Elena Koestel Santamaria as Salem bring a unique dynamic to these roles, their interactions like two mirrors reflecting, it was like watching a past and a future self in conversation. Their performance reflects the industry’s tendency to pit female artists against one another; while Salem is introduced as the young, doe-eyed newcomer positioned to replace the hardened Evangeline, their connection ultimately offers a hopeful vision of shared experience. Danny Spiezio delivers a convincing and frankly irksome performance as Cassius. Though at times his performance felt exaggerated and one-dimensional, this may well be intentional; Scott mentioned she drew inspiration from real-life figures like Matty Healy and Brendon Urie, whose divisive personas invite a similar reaction. I would have perhaps liked to see Cassius experience more consequence and anagnorisis, but overall, Spiezio’s performance felt like a skilful satire.

Though the ‘fame isn’t all it seems’ trope can feel overdone, The Evangelists exposes the industry and delves deeper into the humanity behind fame. It’s refreshing to see female and queer characters presented as complex and multifaceted, not merely one-dimensional fixtures in a story about male fame. Ultimately, The Evangelists was a raw, humorous yet thought-provoking look behind the curtain and a reminder that even the largest of personalities are, at heart, just people. 

Photos by Emma Dalton, Hanna Sabu & Felix Saint-Bris