TITANIC SINKS AGAIN
Mallie McCown‘s madcap reimagining of Titanic, James Cameron’s $220 million epic, is ambitious beyond words, which is the source for most of the problems that plague this production. Issues aside, however, Oh, Fuck! An Iceberg remains staggeringly clever and more fun than a barrel of monkeys in a lifeboat.
I am in theatrical bliss when confusion and chaos reign on stage, but the secret to the success of that is a cool, calculated, and concealed control. The clutter that is spread over the stage at Actors Space holds great promise: the cartoon captain’s wheel; the scores of characters’ hats; the strategically placed cards on selected seats clarifying the duties of those facing the exhilarating demands of audience participation; and the upstage wall to wall rendering of the ill-fated vessel itself.
The concept is original. A 12-year-old girl is so entranced by the classic tale of a ménage à trois between two star-crossed lovers and a bloody big iceberg that she decides it is an actor’s life for her, and dreams of one day recreating the cinematic masterpiece as a one-woman show. What follows is a rambunctious redo of everybody’s favorite frozen tear-jerker.
Dylan George warms up the audience with magic and panache, then later serves as the delightfully demented iceberg, as McCown spins around the stage playing the film’s full cast with the occasional help of audience members filling in as dolphins. This is interrupted by readings selected from the diary kept by the twelve-year-old as she grows to adulthood and tries to keep her dreams alive while dealing with the sinking fortunes of her family life.
Part of the problem here is that not everyone is as familiar with the three-and-a-half-hour-long film as McCown. The iconic moments – the young lovers at the top of the world scene, the sweaty palm pressed against the glass pane of the 1912 Renault Type CB Coupé de Ville, doomed passengers tumbling into the frigid waters – yes, those are all good for laughs, but there is a lot that could be cut as it only serves to dilute the fun and to tire out McCown. This also applies to the diary entries, especially towards the show’s end where the ”author’s message” pulls the rug out from under from the audience’s laughter.
Ultimately, Oh, Fuck! An Iceberg! is at its best when it fully leans into the anarchic joy of theatrical play. McCown’s vision is wildly inventive, but some trimming could transform this buoyant romp into something truly unsinkable. As it stands, the show is a bit overstuffed, yet it remains an irresistible love letter to both the spectacle of Titanic and the scrappy magic of live performance. Even when it threatens to capsize under its own ambition, the fun keeps afloat.
Oh, Fuck! An Iceberg
CMC Productions
part of the Hollywood Fringe Festival
Actors Company (Other Space Theatre), 916 N. Formosa Ave
ends on June 29, 2025
for tickets and dates, visit Oh, Fuck!
